#WHAT THE FUCK. where is the fucking humanity.

[gurugirl]

The Trio

A/N: just a little something quick I wrote up based on this request! Plot light, smut heavy.

🏳️‍🌈 Happy pride month babes! 🏳️‍🌈

Summary: Three strangers meet at a club and things get sexy. Featuring a MMF threesome.

Word Count: 3k

Warning: smut, oral sex, anal sex, strangers fucking (safe and consented), double penetration

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Harry went for a night out with no expectations for anything in particular. It was always in the back of his mind to find a hookup but it wasn’t a priority. If it happened, it happened.

The club entry was only $5 and the DJ spinning that night had exceptional taste, he thought. The space was dark, only illuminated by flashing colorful lights over the crowd of half-naked, sweaty bodies gyrating together.

Harry took a shot of tequila and then found a spot for himself to dance with the crowd of people. Letting the stress of the week wash away as he moved to the beat he felt himself loosen up bit by bit.

It wasn’t long before an attractive guy began to dance with him closely. Their chemistry was good, Harry could tell.

“I’m Roy,” he leaned in close and spoke into Harry’s ear, hand on his shoulder.

“Harry,” he smiled, continuing to move with his eyes on the handsome man in front of him.

.                 .

Y/n spotted the pair on the dancefloor from her place at the bar. She was working up a bit of liquid courage to get herself out there to dance when she saw them.

They were extremely attractive, both with wide grins, looking the other up and down. She wondered if they knew one another or if they were strangers who’d just met. She wouldn’t mind having them let her join. If they were into girls that is.

But she wasn’t at the club to feel insecure about herself or question anything. She was there to get laid. Girl, guy, anything in between… it didn’t matter. Y/n was a single woman who liked everyone and everything. But she did want to try something new and two hot men could be a bit of fun.

Working her way through the human sea of erotic dancing she got in close enough to the handsome duo. They were both about equal in height and quite fit. One had tattoos up the length of his arm but both were brunettes.

The one with tattoos locked eyes with her as she swayed her hips and his raspberry mouth turned up in a grin aimed at her.

And then they were all dancing together. She didn’t know how it had happened but the other had found his way behind her and the beat seemed to move them all together. Her short dress was riding up her thighs as she moved with the music but she didn’t care. That was the point; to show off what she had and if they might be interested then even better.

Clearly, they were both interested. When the one with tattoos placed his hand on her hip and he was just inches from her she could see his green eyes and smell his cologne. The man behind her pulled at her waist and spoke against her earlobe, “This okay?”

She nodded and turned to look at the man over her shoulder, “Don’t stop,” she smiled at him.

So they didn’t. Their bodies moved together and the brunette with tattoos and the one without took turns dancing behind her, touching the exposed skin on her arms and thighs and touching one another, where she enjoyed watching the men as they began to kiss before they tugged at her to join and the trio smeared lips and tongues and slippery skin together as they continued writhing to the beat.

Y/n already had her pulse up from the attention but when she felt warm lips on her neck she was a goner. That was her on switch. All the way on. And he didn’t just give her a soft peck, he began to suck and felt him nip at her sensitive skin as she moaned.

The tattooed one ducked down to her other side and began licking her flesh before she felt his lips pucker and dot wet kisses on the opposite side of her neck. With her eyes closed she gasped at the feeling of being between them until a strong tattooed arm wrapped around her waist and she felt his mouth at her ear, “You taste good.”

Her mind was swirling and her panties were getting damp as he pressed his lips against hers before the other began to pull at them both until they were away from the swaying, steamy ocean of beings.

“I’m Harry,” the one with green eyes spoke and the other licked his lips and dragged his gaze down her body, “I’m Roy.”

“Y/n,” she spoke loudly so they could hear her softer voice over the music and that seemed like all anyone needed to agree to move their little trio elsewhere.

Roy’s apartment was nice with a good view of the city and a big open kitchen with high ceilings.

He poured shots for everyone before Harry’s big hand found the back of Roy’s neck and he dragged him in for a sloppy kiss. It only turned Y/n on even more. Their mouths and tongues wound together as Roy moaned and drew his arms over Harry’s shoulders.

Y/n could see by the way the front of their pants were bulking that they were ready to go.

Roy parted from the kiss with a soft gasp and he looked at Y/n, “Let’s go into my bedroom and get naked.”

The men watched as Y/n’s body was bared to them, soft hips and round tits, plush tummy and ass. She was gorgeous. Harry had removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants but when her breasts bounced from her bra he stopped everything to palm at her and lick her nipples into his mouth.

Roy stepped in behind and she felt his hands on her bum, spreading her ass as he tucked his crotch against her, “What do you like?” His finger smoothed over her anus and she knew what he meant.

“Everything. I like everything.”

Harry stood tall over her before he pushed his pants down his legs and his cock was swollen and thick the moment she looked down at him. He hadn’t been wearing underwear.

She felt Roy slide his tongue down her neck and then he moaned, “Fuck that’s a pretty cock, Harry,” as he reached around her frame to grip Harry’s fat dick.

It was true. Harry’s dick was nice and big and his body was a work of art. Inky tattoos scattered over his chest and arms and on his thigh, firm pecs, and broad shoulders.

When Roy let go of her he pulled Harry in by his hips and she watched the men frot against one another before Harry wrapped his big hand around Roy’s length and began pulling at his shaft.

Y/n sat down on the bed and watched for a moment as they stroked each other, lips slotted together. They rutted in together and then Harry parted from the kiss, hooded eyes and wet, pink lips as he knelt down in front of Roy and licked his wide tongue upward.

“Fuck…” Roy growled as he watched Harry wet his cock.

Y/n hadn’t had the chance to watch two men going at it in person before. But it was hotter than she expected. She leaned back onto one palm as she let her fingers stroke over her pussy. Harry took Roy like a pro, deep-throating him in one go and gagging slightly as he bobbed and drool dripped down his chin and neck.

Roy had his hands on the back of Harry’s head as he sucked him loudly. Smacking his lips around his cock and looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“Good boy… just like that…” Roy’s voice was hitched.

Y/n couldn’t resist but to climb down to where Harry was and take him in her hand, she stroked his thick cock up and down causing him to pop off Roy and look down at her, “You gonna suck me off, pretty?”

With a nod, she spat over his tip and smeared the saliva down his shaft before kneeling and wrapping her lips around his warm tip.

Both men were moaning and whining as they got their cocks sucked. She could taste Harry’s precome as she swallowed around him and coughed. But then she felt fingers on her ass before they slid around to find her pussy. She moaned when his fingers dragged through her wet crease and then he found her entrance, pressing inward to finger her.

She was already dripping and Harry’s long fingers inside of her easily pumped in and out and back into his knuckles.

“Mmm… let’s get in the bed. Get some condoms out…” Roy offered as he pulled at Harry’s hair, lifting him off. She sat up, spit pooling in her mouth as she swallowed it down.

Y/n and Harry climbed into bed as Roy brought out a box of condoms. Harry dragged her into his lap and pressed his mouth against hers softly before she felt Roy’s hands on her ass again and then felt his mouth, wetting her crevice before spitting over her anus.

“She’s got two really pretty holes here, Harry.”

Harry moaned into her mouth and parted from the kiss, his eyes on hers, “I bet she does. You like having all your holes filled up, Y/n?”

She nodded, “I think so. Never had it before but I know I’d like it. I love anal.”

Roy pulled at her middle, dragging her from Harry’s lap into his own, her back pressed into his chest as he groped her tits and Harry leaned down to attach his mouth to her wet pussy.

She felt Roy’s fingers circling around her anus, dipping his middle finger into her ass as Harry slid his tongue over her clit and slurped it into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before Roy had two lubed fingers deep in her bum while Harry had two of his fingers in her pussy as he sucked on her button. Harry had more slide since he was on the pussy side but the full feeling Y/n loved, having something inside of her ass, had her moaning gutturally into the room, head dropped back against Roy’s shoulder.

She could hear Roy panting in her ear as he worked her ass open, the lube bottle lying next to them on the bed had been put to good use. She was glad for it too because with everything slick and warm her body was buzzing in pleasure.

Her orgasm was unexpected. But it zipped through her body coming out in spurting gushes into Harry’s mouth as he fucked her with his fingers, stroking something inside that had her squirting and she’d never been with a man willing to drink it all up like him.

Her body was positioned on the bed gently as she came down and watched the men wrap their cocks in condoms before they began to make out again, both lay facing one another as Y/n recovered from her orgasm.

When she felt the bed rocking she turned to see Roy behind Harry, mounting him from and Harry had his face in the comforter as he moaned pathetically, hands gripping the blanket tight.

Roy slid in and out, his sight on the space where he was connected to Harry’s ass.

It was fucking sexy. Y/n watched the men fuck and she felt the need for more, getting turned on by the sounds they made together.

Roy grunted and pulled out as Harry whined at the loss of the cock that had just been stuffed in his ass.

“You want in?” Roy asked Y/n, his hand cupping her face gently.

She nodded, “Sure.” It was exactly what she wanted.

Harry donned a condom of his own as they had Y/n get in the front on her hands and knees before his girthy crown nudged into her aching hole, splitting her open as he thrust in.

Harry began to fuck into her, an easy pace that spread her open as she gently fingered at her clit and then she felt him still his hips as Roy pushed back into his ass, a desperate whimper falling from Harry’s mouth as he squeezed Y/n’s hips tight.

Roy groaned, “Fuck that’s a nice tight ass, Harry. Bet that feels good huh? Getting bottomed and topped at the same time, yeah? Like having a pussy on your cock and getting your ass filled up?”

Harry let out a choked moan and it almost sounded like he was in tears as he gasped, “Yes. Fuck yes…”

Harry fucked into Y/n in shallow thrusts, he didn’t need long strokes to reach deep, he was already so lengthy and thick she felt every inch of him as he rutted into her, but the hottest part was the sounds falling from Harry’s lungs. He was in heaven. Getting his cock worked and his ass fucked at the same time was going to go down as the best thing ever.

The men grunted and panted as Y/n moaned and her sloppy pussy was gushy with every plunge of Harry’s cock. When her thighs started to quiver Roy pulled back and grabbed Harry’s hips to slide him from her.

“You want two cocks in one, baby,” Roy asked her as he tore his condom off and reached for a fresh one.

She had been so close to her second orgasm and now all she wanted was her release. She nodded, “Yes. Sounds so good. Please.”

Harry got onto his back and pulled Y/n with him to straddle his lap, as Roy came up behind her, hands on her hips.

She stared down into Harry’s moony eyes as she lowered back down on his heavy cock and gasped, “Fuck you’re so big. God…”

Harry lifted his hips up with a smirk as she panted, her palms pressed into his chest when she felt Roy drizzle lube all over her anus and spread it inside. She began to ride Harry gently as Roy fingered her ass. But then she felt him shift and his fingers were gone before his cock was pressing into her backside, the initial stinging ache of him filling her up had her halting her hips and gritting her teeth.

Harry lifted his hand to her face and cooed at her, “You okay? Is it too much?”

Shaking her head no she dropped her mouth open, “Oh… it’s… shit… fuck me…”

Incoherent strings of words fell from her mouth as she pushed back against Roy and moaned. She loved anal. She’d done it plenty, but the feeling of having both holes stuffed at once was something on a different level.

And once they got moving her brain was melted and she began to drool warm puddles of saliva over Harry’s chest as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Both men panted and moaned as they fucked into their respective wet holes. Gushy and soft and warm, the sound of skin smacking together, stunted moans and garbled gasps, a gentle creak in the bed.

It wasn’t like anything she’d experienced before but now she was hooked. Getting fucked by two men was going to be a necessary indulgence from now on. She loved the feeling of being nothing but a wet, warm hole.

Roy’s fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her flush against himself, balls glued against Harry’s cock as Harry thrust upward. Harry moaned and she felt his hands on her face, pulling her down so he could kiss her as he fucked into her from below.

Her guts and her insides were mush as they used her holes to find their release. Everything was so full and so wet as Harry lapped into her mouth and sipped at her tongue.

“Oh fuck, she likes this Harry. Got her clenching around me tight…” Roy cooed.

Both her cunt and her anus were clamping down on the separate cocks moving in and out as she quivered and moaned into Harry’s mouth. She writhed her hips, dragging her clit into Harry’s pelvis sending sparks through her spine and her limbs.

“Oh my god…” she moaned loudly, lifting her mouth from Harry’s as she inhaled. Both men were grinding into her deeply, her clit being worked and nudged at every thrust of Harry’s hips.

When the men felt her tense up as she started to come they both began to rail into her little holes a bit faster, chasing their own orgasms. Y/n arched her back as her ears rang and she felt Harry inside of her pussy throbbing before she felt Roy’s cock pulsing.

The trio moaned together as they each came. The men pumped into their condoms, Roy threw his head back when he could no longer keep his eyes open and pinned on the space his cock was taking up inside the pretty girl.

Chests heaved and slippery genitals slowed inside of her as she collapsed onto Harry’s chest and Roy leaned over her back to kiss her shoulder blades. Hearts beat in unison as they came down and caught their breaths.

She felt a hand on her ass squeezing, “You okay?”

She nodded into Harry’s muscled pec, “Mmhmmm…”

Harry’s laugh vibrated into her cheek and she felt Roy slowly pull himself from her.

She was rolled to her back like a rag doll as the men cleaned themselves and helped her wipe up. She could hear their deep voices whispering, a bright laugh filled the space before she felt a warm hand on her hip and another on her tummy, “Do you need to call anyone before you fall asleep?”

Blinking her eyes open she shook her head, “No. Is it okay?”

Roy rubbed her belly, “You can sleep if you need to. We’re just gonna crash here together if you’re alright with it.”

She turned to see Harry on his side next to her, hand on her hip with his eyes closed, a faint smile on his mouth.

Placing her palm over Harry’s hand and her other over Roy’s she closed her eyes and nodded before she drifted off to sleep, the exhausted men following right behind.

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[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 1

Pairing: Two nagas x human reader

Summary: it’s mating season for the nagas and you’re more than eager to satisfy your mates.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, naga smut, nagas have double 🍆🍆, double pen, tails penetration, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The jungle was alive with the energy until the sounds of your naga mates turned it eerily quiet. Their frantic calls for mating rang out, the insects and birds turning silent. You heard them from where you were resting safely in your nest and soon you followed the sound of hissing and rustling leaves. Your mates had arrived. They had left to hunt and bring you food but the rut must have hit them at full force forcing them to return to you.

They entered the hut, closing the wooden door and hiding the soft glow of the moon. Thorne and Ragnor. Your nagas were handsome, their serpentine forms gliding closer to you. Their upper bodies were muscular, their shoulders broad, their stomachs bulging with muscles. They had striking amber eyes that glowed with predatory hunger. Their lower halves were long, powerful tails that coiled around you and made you feel protected.

Drawn by an irresistible desire to satisfy your mates, you urged them to come to you. You sat back on the bed and they circled you, their strong hands removing your loincloth—the only clothing you wore. Their tails wrapped around you, opening your legs wide to expose your slick pussy.

Your first naga mate, Thorne his eyes a deep gold, his scales green, started licking your breasts. Your other mate, Ragnor his eyes as light as the sun, his body red, bent down to claim your lips. They awakened your body with intimate touches and kisses, growling and hissing softly.

“Our mate,” Thorne said, forked tongue lapping around a hard nipple. “So eager to please.”

Ragnor hummed and let the tip of his tail brush lightly over your clit. “We will mate you, sweet mate,” he murmured. “It is time to plant our seed inside your little cunny. But first, we shall prepare you. Make you shake and cry in ecstasy.”

“Yes… hmnn please, yes,” you moaned in between kisses while a long tongue nudged in your throat.

Another tail came to prod the tiny rosebud of your ass hole. You heard the soft slurp of oil, felt human hands cupping your mound and fingering your ass. You gasped when both tails slowly entered you, surging deep in your pussy and ass. The tails— twice bigger than a human cock— stretched you, prepared you for their inhuman dicks.

The naga feeding from your mouth reached down to play with your clit while your other mate suckled your tits and whispered how good you were, how pretty your tiny holes looked around their tails. You panted as their tails pistoned back and forth in fluid movements. You climaxed on the spot, crying out while they looked at you entranced and praised you proudly.

“Good mate,” Ragnor drawled. “Now you give us this sweet little mouth. Add then we’ll fuck you. All night.”

With their tails still buried inside you, your mates helped you kneel before them so you could pleasure them. You grasped Ragnor's hips, your tongue flicking out to tease the slit that protected his dicks. With persistent licks, both shafts sprung up. You licked one cock while pumping the other. They were naturally slick with sweet lubricant. You heard a loud growl, and felt your mate grab a fistful of your hair as he undulated his torso and forced both cocks into your mouth.

Your other mate, Thorne, kneeled behind you, his strong hands cupping your breasts and running circles around your sensitive nipples. They kept up with the praise, telling you how good you felt around their tails, how pretty you’d look carrying their seed and what a good mother you’d be.

They switched places, and you started suckling Thorne’s cocks that had already emerged from his protective slit. You licked the fat tips that leaked with pre-cum and ran your tongue over the textured base. Impatient, he nudged deep inside your throat, both cocks stretching your mouth full. You worked hard, slurping their dicks while their tails claimed your holes, your body jerking back and forth, tits bouncing.

Pleasure became too much to handle. You came, gurgling around the twin cocks in your mouth, tails slipping in and out of your holes, your juices trickling down your thighs. The cocks finally left your mouth, a trail saliva trickling down your chin. Your mates licked it off, taking turns kissing your mouth.

Rearranging their positions, Thorne settled down and pulled you on top of him, your breasts squeezed against his chiseled chest. Your other mate slithered behind you, spreading your asscheeks apart to watch their tails lodged deep inside of you.

Nodding to each other, the nagas pulled their tails out of you, their appendages slick with oil and your juices. Then it was time to take four cocks. Slowly, two dicks thrust upwards, filling your pussy to the hilt. From behind, Ragnor's double shafts slipped past your now gaping asshole, reaching deep in your guts. Slotted together, the nagas gave you a few moments to adjust to the impossible stretch and depth.

“Alright, little one?” the mate behind you asked, kissing your nape.

“Mmnnn—yes, move, pl—ease!"

You whined when they finally began to fuck you. Two huge cocks owned your pussy, while two more claimed your ass. Your holes were stretched around the thick shafts, more wetness dripping down your thighs and all over their scaly bodies. Your belly was swollen, rounded with the evidence of your mating.

Thorn's hands grasped your waist as he helped you move and ride their dicks. A forked tongue licked across your neck as Ragnor fingered your clit, stroking and teasing in time with their thrusts. The two nagas worked in perfect harmony, their bodies slithering and leaving you breathless. They never left you unfilled. The pleasure was intense, building and building with each thrust.

When you finally came, the explosion of their cum rocked your world. All four cocks pulsed and shot spurt after spurt of their seed, their feral hissings echoing through the jungle. Hot cum filled you up, your belly expanding further until you couldn’t hold back no longer. Your muscles seized and you clung to them, nails digging into their scaly bodies as you surrendered to ecstasy.

Crying out and sobbing in pleasure, you collapsed on your mate’s chest. He rubbed your cheeks and kissed your dry lips softly.

Once again, your mates changed positions.

Their cocks left you, your cunt and ass leaking buckets of naga cum. You winced but sighed softly when they guided you to lie down on your back, their long tails wrapping lovingly around your arms and legs. You turned your head and took two cocks into your mouth, while your other mate sat between your legs, thrusting into your pussy until he was balls-deep. Trapped between their strong bodies, you suckled and whimpered their names as they thrust inside you, spitroasting you in perfect symphony.

You tried to speak around a mouthful of dicks, tell them that your ass was left empty. But they quickly took care of it, both their tails squeezing inside and filling you deeply. You keened loudly while the nagas cupped your tits and rolled your swollen clit. You shattered and cried out, your orgasm intense and blinding. They followed right after, your stomach bulging with cum and the force of the cocks penetrating you.

“Such a good little mate for us,” Thorne said, his hands rubbing your belly protectively, feeling the gentle movements of the shafts and tails inside you.

“You have sated us, taken everything we had to give—our tails, our cocks and loads of our seed,” Ragnor praised. “You have honored us, mate.

"I love you," you whispered, your eyes closing.

“We love you more, little one,” they both said, whispering kisses on your skin.

Spent and satisfied, the nagas held you close and lulled you to sleep while keeping you full of their cum. It wouldn’t be wise to clean you yet. Their seed had to stay a while in order to take.

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[jarofstyles]

What about bf!harry gets hard in public and hes basically using you as a human shield and pulling you into his lap while subtly grinding into you🫣

This is a very fratrry thing to do once they get together tbh

Check out our Patreon!

Warnings- exhibitionism, don’t do stuff like this in public plz, filthy talk

——-

“You don’t know what this fuckin’ dress does to me.” With lips mouthing at her neck, she had to take a deep breath as his handsy palms ran over her stomach and tugged her closer to him. The conversations continued around them but as usual, he only had eyes for her. The obsession becoming unglued as his breath left chills on her skin.

“I think I have some idea. It’s against my ass.” She muttered lowly, taking a sip of some sort of lemon drop concoction which- ugh. Whoever was bartending at this party really shouldn’t give up their day job. “You’re like a feral dog sometimes. Just running around grinding your dick into me.” Her voice was kept down but it was hard not to push back into the slow rocking. The guise was he was moving with the music, but those jeans did nothing to shield her from the feeling of the thick length against her ass.

“So try n’tame me then.” He would really like that. The man had been nearly begging her to go to his room but she’d promised her friends she wouldn’t disappear too quickly. Harry was demanding of her time since they’d gotten together, clingy and slightly annoying but she liked to make him work for it a little bit. For a man who had been slutting it around with whoever he wanted- his words, not hers though it did seem like something she’d said- it felt really nice to know she he liked her that much.

“You’d like it too much.” She sighed, tightening her grip on the red solo cup as teeth nipped over her throat. He was borderline obnoxious with the PDA, but Harry really had no sense of shame when it came to that. Her fingers made the cup crinkle, a betrayal from a longtime friend as it exposed just how much it actually got to her. “Can you behave? For one night?”

“Mmmm… nope.” He sighed against her skin. “M’gonna be annoying and hope you stop caring what other people want so you can come upstairs like you really want to do.” Thankfully he kept his voice down as his hand rubbed over her tummy, exhaling a sigh. “I can’t wait until I get you alone and I get t’bury myself in that tight little cunt. Nice n’snug for me, and I’ll make sure you can feel it in this cute belly.”

Harry knew he had a hold on her that she didn’t let a lot of people see, feeling her neck heat up against his lips as she said his voice in a low warning that she mean absolutely none of. “Harry. Stop it. People are around.”

“And that does nothing but get you to soak those panties. Is it the nasty little thong today? The one you left for me t’wrap around my dick when you went home for the weekend?” He hummed. “Got them nice and sticky. T’be honest, if you’d let me I’d take you over into the corner, nudge your dress up and fuck you just like this.” He kept his hands where they were but his cock rubbed over her ass, giving him some friction. She could feel it throb against her, the lump in her throat thick as he continued to talk. His filthy mouth never did know where or when to quit.

“If you’d let me I’d have you walkin’ upstairs with my load down your thighs. Or your cum all over my fingers. I’d give you anything you’d let me have, honestly. And if you think I can’t tell you’re clenching those incredible thighs together, that I don’t know you’re slick between them and probably makin’ a fucking sloppy messy on your skin, you should think again. I know how much you love when I touch you. Like to growl at me like a little kitten but your body can’t hide from me.”

Y/N couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. Clenching her jaw she fought the flush working its way over her chest, heat flooding her body as he finally moved a hand from her stomach to turn her face so he could catch her lips.

The lack of shyness from the man had him kissing her deep, unashamed of the wolf whistles and groans from his friends as he kissed her like he owned her mouth. She was reminded of it as his tongue brushed against hers and his thick fingers held her chin in place so he could kiss her how he wanted. He did- god, he really fucking did.

“Get a room!”

Harry broke the kiss with a wicked grin. “Don’t mind if we do.”

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[agarthanguide]

Hi there, hope you’re doing good!! I had a question about FCG’s design, both old and new. I was rewatching Treasure Planet the other night, and looking at B.E.N. I couldn’t help but be reminded of our beloved Letters. Was there any influence from that media specifically, or was it a fun coincidence??

Def a fun coincidence. I may have seen Treasure Planet, but I sure don't remember it.

Lots of people have asked if FCG is based on this robot or that robot, but the truth is- I know nothing about robots. I'm not a robot person, and I like animation but not to the point where I follow animated series, so almost every reference point that was brought up for FCG was new, to me. This is a bit like what my inspo looked like-

(I do know Claptrap, and Gizmoduck was specifically mentioned by Sam. I watched several episodes of Duck Tales while working on early FCG, for some reason.)

But Sam did most of the construction. Because the first page of my pitch looked like this-

I was so worried that I was gonna fuck up on my first robot ever that I made the decision to start with everything and force Sam to sculpt the final.

I like the idea that there's something familiar about FCG's weird head, his jutting hips, his gently curved forearms. People reacted with such warmth to FCG, and I think that's mostly Sam, but I hope my contribution at least didn't dissuade anyone from feeling close to the completed character. So the comparisons to other pop culture robots are such a compliment, to me. Maybe it's just our collective pareidolia, but I think it's admirable that we as humans are so ready to accept a robot face as inherently deserving and Known, to us.

#my art #critical role #asks

[lovelywingsart]

'It's not like I'm walkin' alone into the valley of the shadow of death Stand beside one another, cause it ain't over yet I'd be willing to bet that if we don't back down You and I'll be the ones that are holding the crown in the end

When it's over, we can say well done But not yet cause it's only begun So pick up and follow me, we're the only ones To fight this thing until we've won

We drive on and don't look back It doesn't mean we can't learn from our past And all the things that we might've done wrong We could've been doing this all along

Everybody with your fist raised high Let me hear your battle cry tonight Stand beside or step aside We're on the frontline'

'Frontline' - Pillar

---

POV You're Miranda about to get your shit absolutely fucking wrecked by a human and 4 pissed off mutants

---

A massive and very important scene in the Survival AU, where the unthinkable come together to defeat a common enemy-

The Lords and Ethan band together to fight Mother Miranda, ultimately winning their freedom and new life.

A story that could- and should- have been, giving the families a chance to survive.

//Finally, about 50 fucking hours later, this is DONE. IT'S COMPLETE.//

HAVE SOME EXTRE VIEWS OF DETAIL BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

50 fucking hours.

I started crying once I finished it, because I realized that THIS is what I will be showing Neil and Maggie.

THIS is what I've spent so much time on.

THIS is probable the thing I will ever be the most proud of.

Literally any and all shares are so appreciated, I desperately do not want this to flop and will share it so many times if I have to.

#re8 Metalworks #Metalworks Survival AU #oc #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 #resident evil village oc #resident evil oc #re8 oc #heisenbergs factory oc #re8 factory oc #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #salvatore moreau #ethan winters #re8 heisenberg #re8 dimitrescu #re8 moreau #re8 ethan winters #mutated heisenberg #mutated dimitrescu #mutated moreau #lord heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #lord moreau #lovelywingsocs #lovelywingsart

[timkontheunsure]

Blitz's solo career?

Ok so is there an actual reason that Blitz thinks all Goetias are 'all the fuckin' same", and that "royal demons don't give a shit about guys like us"?

Fizz doesn't have this opinion, even after working with Mammon...

I assumed it was just growing up in a racist system, and having a lifetime of it rule class not caring being reinforced. But what if it's that plus, something that Fizz didn't go through. Something after the Circus but before Loo Loo Land?

Something that affected him enough to be in his bad trip years after. Someone that offered him a career if he slept with them?

We know he has trauma of being on stage, and ends up in a panic attack when he's forced onto one. Nearly saying when he's last performance was. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! I-I... I can't do this. No, not again. I-I haven't performed since--"

When the crowd laugh he lights up.

And at the end of the episode, when they've got back Via all safe, the book and Loona's mostly forgives him; Blitz is still upset at his 'acting career' going up in flames.

Everyone else is happy to watch the fireworks and he's still grumpy, about a bit part on a very bad human sitcom. There's no career here. So what making him feel bad?

Blitz doesn't trust Mammon from when they're teenagers, but it's not quite "you royal fucks think you can do this EVERY TIME, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as IMPORTANT!"

This looks like a trauma trigger about a royal discarding him for both sex and a job. It is directed at Stolas, but also every Goetia. Like it's not all about what happening here.

Why does he look angry at Stolas laughing at his jokes? He loves Stolas doing that, so who pretended to laugh at them?

Blitz says all royal are the same, after a very long list of things showing he notices when Stolas cares for him as a person. And Fizz tries sarcasm saying...

Which gets the biggest eyeroll of 'even Blitz can't be that thick'. So why does Blitz think that make it more fake?

Then Fizz says "They can't all be the same if some have taste, and some wanna fuck you." By inference any royal that wants to sleep with Blitz is one of bad ones.

And this is the point where he wants to stop talking about his sexlife, and change the subject after being it up in the first place...

They do a lot of foreshadowing in this show to what if this really isn't about Stolas, but past experiences being put onto him.

A royal that he liked, thought liked him back, and screwed over his job when he got tired of him.

If so Blitz might have a bit more to work through than denial, and getting Stolas to unlearn racist behaviours and microaggressions.

Still thinking they'll get there but might be being set up for season 3.

#helluva boss theories #stolitz #helluva boss #Yer I never get this stuff right but theories are fun 😊

[thewertsearch]

AG: I used to really like him and always wanted to help him get stronger, so that he might stand a fucking chance to actually make it on our world.

It's honestly tragic. You probably did like him initially - but, as a consequence of your worldview, your genuine attempts to make him stronger were warped into abuse. He was never going to internalize your lessons, because the manner in which you were delivering then were far too cruel to be effective.

AG: 8ut he was just soooooooo weak and indecisive. He wouldn't change!

Due to her cruelty, Vriska completely failed to impart the lessons that she was trying to - and, of course, she blames Tavros, for refusing to be bullied into changing.

The more he 'failed' her tests, the angrier she got. The angrier she got, the more deliberate her abuse became.

Until the cruelty was the point.

AG: And when he tried to change, it was too little and too l8. Always l8. L8ey L8ey L88888888. AG: Too l8 to kiss me. AG: Too l8 to kill me. AG: He couldn't do it when I really needed him to. So when I saw he was actually serious a8out trying to kill me now of all times… AG: I just got SO AAAAAAAANGRY.

Anyone with a brain could tell you Tavros isn't a killer. He's a gentle troll, and cold-blooded murder would traumatize him.

So Vriska trapped him in a situation where not murdering her would also traumatize him, and got angry when he chose the wrong trauma. This scenario was unwinnable by design, just like their last FLARP game.

Don’t kid yourself, Vriska. You were screwing Tavros around until the end.

AG: I know our races are completely different. And I really h8 the idea of you thinking worse of me 8ecause of this. AG: 8ut I don't have anyone else to talk to a8out it!

Holy hell, Vriska’s really going through it.

The worst part is, John is the only confidant she has. She's incredibly lucky he's as easygoing as he is.

EB: i bet karkat would listen. EB: or what about terezi? she's pretty nice, isn't she? […] AG: For one thing, they would pro8a8ly just 8e pissed off at me for killing Tavros. AG: And more importantly, there's no waaaaaaaay I could tell them how I really feel a8out it.

I think I'm starting to understand why Vriska's begun to change.

So far, Vriska's life has been very simple. She killed because she had to, and she's convinced herself that it's the only correct way to live. A brutal life makes you strong, after all, and a peaceful life is a burden.

Alternian culture validates this worldview, as every troll is expected to take part in the Empire's conquests. Her nation wouldn't want her to stop killing - it'd just want her to switch targets. According to the world around her, Vriska's way of life is correct. She's never been meaningfully challenged on her beliefs.

Until today.

Today, Vriska has been confronted by a species who don't want to kill. A species seemingly populated by wimps like Tavros, who all watch ridiculous movies and believe in lame nonsense like friendship.

A species of weaklings, who weren't blessed with an upbringing as violent as hers.

And a species that succeeds anyway.

I think humanity, and John in particular, have called into question some of the most fundamental truths of Vriska's existence.

And something inside her has just said ‘w8 a second........’

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3467 #s126

[pseudowho]

okay here’s me getting all cocky and confident because you answered my ask once (ily for that seriously i think i screamed and fainted and sobbed and climbed up the walls a little) and once again asking you for….. for crumbs………. so my horny self was sitting and thinking…………… nanami sees you reading absolute filth and porn and you end up in biig trouble.. (i.e him doing that exact thing to you 😭) or perhaps you going up to nanami after reading absolute filth and being all needy with him bcs that straight porn made you a liittle…….. yk… 🌚🌚🌚

anyways i literally love you and ur my favorite writer ever and im gonna stop now before i burst

SMUT [smuht] (noun)

In which Nanami Kento catches you reading dirty literature...and punishes you with a performative reading.

Warnings: The anon who keeps targeting me like this needs a warning label...but otherwise: roleplay, erotic literature (*laughs and laughs in Tumblr*) being read to you while you're systematically destroyed, performative Bad!Nanami, Kento fucks you wearing a mask and leather gloves, Pleasure Dom!Kento who gets lost in the sauce, reader way out of her depth, bondage, the usual spicy goodness, couple of cheeky movie references

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The one she knew only as the Man in the Mask swept over to her, delighting in her capture, having evaded him for so long.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, his breath sweeping over the swell of her breasts, and sending shivers down her spine. "Finally...the little mouse who has wreaked havoc on my dreams for too many lonely nights. How does it feel? To be trapped here with me like this?"

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she gasped, his grazing touch to her belly leaving embers in its wake. The Man in the Mask saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and felt something snap inside him as he loomed over her with a whisper; "I know. I feel it too."

With little warning, he lowered his barely covered mouth to her neck, hungry against her, and--

The door opened, and you leapt out of your skin, dropping your phone to the floor. You sat bolt upright in bed, your other hand coming up guiltily from beneath the covers as Kento leaned into the bedroom to greet you. You interrupted him.

"You're home early," you said, offering an unconvincing smile. Kento looked at you, flatly. He let the statement hang for a moment. His shrewd eyes flicked, taking in the glossy subtleties he saw from you only in foreplay.

"...well I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll just go back then shall I--"

You hesitated, words caught in your throat. Your eyes flickered to your phone. So did Kento's. His eyes narrowed.

"...what are you read--"

"Nothing! It's nothing." You lied, unconvincing. You both hesitated for a moment more, before Kento darted. You cursed at him for being faster than you, and Kento's fingers closed around your phone, sitting beside you on the bed in one swift movement. You smothered a pillow over your face, screaming silently, wanting the duvet to grow great maws and swallow you whole.

Kento read silently for a moment, scrolling, before reading aloud; "...she didn't want to fight anymore, as his fingers slid between her puffy lips...goodness me...his cock strained against the fabric of his clothes, begging for attention...I bet it did..."

You had begun to crawl away down the bed, just a maggot, unworthy of the sun and all its glories.

You felt a hand clasp around your ankle, and you squeaked as Kento dragged you back up the bed, without even taking his eyes off your phone.

"I don't think so, where are you going--"

"--oh god Kento just give me something for the cringe and let me die--"

"--no no no I'm blessed to be a part of my wife's interests--"

"--I am less than human, we need a divorce, I can't look you in the eye ever again--"

Kento scoffed, dark and derisive. "As if I'd let you divorce me. As if you'd even want to...now, where did I put that..."

Kento stood, still holding your phone as he rummaged in his dresser. You laid flat to the bed, trying to wiggle away again, still embarrassingly wet, your mortification laced with undeniable arousal.

"Stay exactly where you are, or I'll damn well make you."

You stopped. You looked up at Kento, unusually meek, as he approached you. He stood by the bed, looming and powerful, a god made flesh. He unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, not bothering to remove his harness. He undid his belt with a clink-clink. He let his tie hang loose...and pulled a black balaclava down to beneath his collar. He finished off with a pair of soft, black leather gloves.

Something imploded inside you; a dial-up noise in your mind. Kento prowled over to you, looming over you and chasing you up the bed, caging you beneath him, and reading through the smut on your phone screen.

"Be honest," Kento read aloud, his honey-brown eyes swirling with something altogether darker and more dangerous, "if you'd wanted to escape me...you could have."

You panted, breathless, your pupils blown into inky black as you lay splayed beneath Kento. You couldn't help but be captivated, lost in his insidious pull. You felt your heartbeat between your legs.

"Did you stay because you dream of me, too?" Kento intoned. You bit the poisoned apple, trembling as you nodded up at him. "Did you stay...because you wondered if hatred was as erotic a passion as love?"

"--Kento, I-- let me go, I--"

"That's the spirit." Laughed Kento, his voice booming through you, the vibrations crackling across every nerve, and you whimpered. Kento grasped your hands together with his own, gloved and powerful, pinning them above your head with the whole weight of his body. He pulled his tie loose with the hand holding your phone.

"I can't let you leave...not now. Fuck...you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Kento growled. Being the villain seemed so effortless to him. Your safe word had never been further from your mind, your attempts to leave so paltry and insincere. The way Kento looked down at you, waiting to see if you would make him stop, sent shivers down your spine. Kento released his tie, eyes skimming across your phone for confirmation.

"I'd apologise, for trapping you here like this..." Kento intoned, tying your bound wrists to the head of the bed as you squirmed, crying out in anguish, "...but I'll show you...how you've craved my touch, just as I have craved yours." You strained against the bonds, in just the silky chemise you wore for bed, and it didn't take much for your breasts to fall free of the fine little straps.

In truth, Kento had never been harder in his life. Seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted embarrassed squirms brushing your bare mound against his aching, thick cock...and your nipples, hard as diamonds and covered by a thin veneer of lace. His breaths were heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading.

"Just one taste, and we can return to how it was before." Kento groaned, his mouth suckling at your neck, licking, tasting, biting. You cringed against the assault on your senses, afraid to lose yourself to such diabolical pleasure. Kento pinned your bucking hips down with his own, the tip of his cock trapped beneath his waistband against his belly. "Just once...and we can rest easy at night, knowing how it feels for me to spend myself inside you."

You keened, mewling as Kento rested the phone on the pillow beside your head, and took your nipple into his mouth, ragging it around beneath his tongue with a fractured growl. Your head spun with the weight of him, totally captured, so wildly out of control. The suckling pleasure he gave to your nipples, connected in a fine thread to your clit, making it pulse with vicarious bliss.

"I can't...can't take it anymore...Ken--" You moaned, squeaking as his teeth closed in barely hinged warning around your breast.

"Unless it's to tell me to fuck you, I won't have you mewl like a kitten at me any longer." Kento rumbled against your breast, wet with his spit and the marks he left behind as he took what he was owed. "I hope you can take it. I'm...no small man. If you are ruined, after, I know you will bear the scars with grace, just as you have bore your hatred of me."

You were already so steeped in the hot rush of being pleasured, you did not notice how Kento's eyes glowered, lathering down your body and darting occasionally back to your phone. He continued his pilgrimage down your body. Kento growled in frustration at the chemise blocking him, and he rucked it up, spitting curses as you squeaked, wriggling against him.

"At least fight like you mean it." Kento laughed, and you blushed, eyes squeezed shut, mortified by how obviously faked your resistance was. Kento kissed his way down your belly, settling at your mound. He hovered, silent, giving your desperate clit nought but the breath from his lips.

"Do you want my fingers...or my mouth?" You whimpered again, babbling nonsense, such a rough and ruined heroine. Kento laughed again, dark and delicious, raising his mask just enough to free his mouth. "No words? No matter. You shall have both."

With little warning, Kento sunk his tongue between your folds, ragging his mouth and nose from side to side again to bury himself in the heat of you. You cried out as he growled into your heat, hitting a high note as he sunk two thick, gloves fingers into your fluttering pussy, slamming inside all the way to his knuckles.

Kento swore against your pussy, grunting and moaning as he lapped at your clit and entrance with animalistic rage. Quite canonically to his role, his cock wept against his belly, pre-cum leaking down onto his waistband until the fabric was cloying and sticky, the friction against his tip sending him spiralling. He couldn't help but fuck against the bed as you melted beneath him, writhing against his tongue.

Panting, letting his gloved fingers fuck into you and imagining it was his cock instead, Kento chuckled against your clit, at just how easily he had snapped. He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment, wickedly obsessed by the stark contrast of your creamy white arousal on the black leather.

He could smell you on the balaclava, the fabric over his nose soaking with your essence. Kento felt lightheaded with the blooming, heady scent of you. His cock twitched, aching and neglected, and so close to spilling thick spurts of seed all over its owner.

You risked looking down for just a moment. The eyes of a villain pierced through you, as Kento licked his gloves clean, not breaking eye contact once. You whimpered. He laughed, and curled his fingers back into you, continuing his relentless attack on your poor, aching cunt. Your moans reached a fever pitch, and Kento felt the creep of his own orgasm through his belly as he rutted against the bed with total abandon.

"Sing for me." He groaned, lifting your hips off the bed as he knelt, sucking your clit into his mouth in a devastating final move. You tipped violently over the edge, bucking against his tongue and crying his name, a stream of nonsensical babbles. Kento was quite sure you came harder than the girl in the story.

By the time you came back to earth, being licked in slow, languid movements through your peak, you saw Kento kneeling between your legs, stroking his cock in long, jerking pumps.

"You've reduced me to this." Kento forced, his teeth gritted and his mask back in place over his mouth. "To this...this boy, fucking his own fist just from the taste of you." Kento cursed, his gloved fist wet with pre-cum, cracking his neck from side to side and growling through his lurid tale. You lay, fucked out, bound, a fascinated by how Kento's whiskey-rich voice could fill you with fumes, warm and drunk one minute, but cold and piercing the next. You swung, manoeuvred across his harsh dichotomy.

Kento loomed over you, trapping you beneath him again, blocking the light from your eyes, a bad moon rising. "You did this to me." He hissed, accusatory in his possession of you. "You started this sordid fight. But I'll finish it. No more fisting my cock at night just to the thought of you. No more dreaming about bending you to my will."

You felt Kento's tip press through your entrance, thick and insistent enough that you squirmed up the bed, crying out as he yanked you back, his hands closing around your waist. Kento plaited his fingers in your tied hands, the ghost of affection, and readying himself to slam into your quivering heat. He was falling apart, he could barely contain himself, overcome by the raw power of making you pliable, shaping you to his desires--

Kento whispered in your ear, his voice shaking, gravelly; "And when you submit...know that it was entirely your fault."

You felt your delicate petals forced aside, crying out to be filled to the brim by Kento in one slick thrust. Kento could barely suppress a roar beneath his mask, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His enormous hands cuffed your waist, making it squidge down against your hips every time he dragged your hips, moving your pussy around him like a cock sleeve.

Kento's strength made manhandling you look easy. You lay ruined beneath him, your head lolling against the inside of your own bound arm. The image of him unbuttoned, masked, gloved and still almost fully dressed above you, grunting and groaning as he used your pussy for his own pleasure, burned onto your retinas.

Kento barely moved his own hips, his eyes fixed feverishly on where he dragged your swollen pussy around the length of his cock, twitching and burning inside you. He couldn't contain himself. The hook behind his navel, all scorched steel and selfishness, beseeched him to drag his pleasure from you.

"Fucking-- ruin you-- never be satisfied...by another man again-- keep running from me, and I'll hunt you down...and take you like this every-- fucking-- time--"

As Kento's pleasure roared over him, he punctuated his thrusts against your belly with the written word in action. Making nothing more than jolted, pitiful moans as he fucked repeatedly against your sensitive cervix and soft-spot, you clambered for purchase, sobbing your pleasure as his gloved fingers rolled your clit between them.

Kento came with a string of curses, his thighs cramping beneath him with the force of it. Feeling his seed begin to pump and spurt into you, he dragged you aggressively to another orgasm with his leathered fingers. He had to feel you clench around him, sucking his seed deep inside you. He had just enough forethought to recall his final, toxic line as he gasped, groaning and bucking with the force of his ejaculation.

You could barely hear him through the fog of pleasure, faint in the distance; "If you have the nerve...to crawl back to me...full and swollen-- know we can be enemies in matrimony, as well as battle."

The room was hushed and dark, the gloom broken only by your mingled, heavy breaths, and the earthy smell of sex. You reached up pulling Kento's balaclava up and pressing a breathless little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"...but...we still have to get a divorce. I just-- couldn't live with you knowing what I read--"

Kento laughed, his shoulders aching from the weight of the villain, slipping away with his gloves and mask.

#jjk #kento nanami #pseudowho #jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento smut #nanami my love #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x y/n #nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #Jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #Jujutsu kaisen x reader #Jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jjk x reader #Jjk x reader smut

[coddda]

Light Yagami is so insane specifically for the way that he manages to contradict himself in every way possible. Like I think about it All the time.

He doesn't make mistakes. He makes the same mistakes every single time in every single universe, just in different ways.

He sticks strongly to his own beliefs. He betrays himself and his own ideals by doing exactly what Light Yagami would do, no matter what version of Death Note it is. He betrays himself by seeking out a "better" means of justice, he betrays himself by trying to protect others, by just living and being bored and trying to avoid ever doing wrong. His very existence is a betrayal to himself.

He is proud to be his father's son, he wants to live up to his image more than anything else, he takes after him so much and people can tell. He uses his father for his own gain until the bitter end, sometimes it kills him. He loves his mother and his sister so much. He doesn't see them for the majority of the story, sometimes at a certain point it's like they're forgotten altogether. He won't think of them when he inevitably dies.

He asks himself what Light Yagami would say or do. He is Light Yagami. He asks himself what Kira would say or do. He is Kira.

He thinks everything he does through carefully and methodically, sometimes to unnecessary degrees. He is So fucking impulsive, sometimes his plans are outright clumsy.

He has a successful social life and can make just about anyone like him in just a few minutes. There is hardly a single genuine personal connection he has to another person in the series that he does not outright abandon or squander. He has everyone on his side, even if they think they're against him. In the end he realizes there is nobody left, that he is alone and all that is left is himself and his enemies.

He'll have a literal breakdown and collect himself completely within the next half a minute as if nothing happened. He compartmentalizes emotions like it's second-nature. He is losing his shit in his own head. He never stops thinking.

He acts almost disturbingly normal and polite. He acts and thinks like he does not know how to be normal, under everything he is bitter. He is the most put-together guy ever. He is an actual mess.

If you ask him if there's ever been a point where he's actually told the truth, he'll find the most roundabout way to tell you that he is "just like everyone else" in that regard. If you ask him if he has any understanding of the human heart, if he has ever experienced hunger, if he actually has interest in academics, if he knows how to love, he would tell you that he is just like anyone else. Yeah, that was all a reference, sorry. Do you think Light Yagami has ever sought friendship?

He sees himself a God. He is so, so terrified of death. He wants his life to mean something. He manages to only destroy everything and anyone his life has ever touched.

His name is spelled "moon". It's pronounced "Light". He's everything because he's at the top of the country, he's nothing because he's satisfied by none of it. He's everything because he now has everything he's ever wanted (he came across it by mistake), he's nothing because no matter what he fails and life goes on, every single time. He wants the world to know of his existence. By the time he dies most people won't even know who Light Yagami or Kira really was, what the full picture really looked like.

Every single time Light Yagami, without exception, will eventually betray himself and make the same mistake and faces the consequences and eventually die, then cease to exist. He makes mistakes, he does things that are wrong. He will almost never realize that he was wrong. He will lie to his enemies, allies, friend, family, accomplice. Does that mean he only tells the truth to himself? Well. That would have to come with the assumption that he's ever told the truth even once, from the moment he was born.

#death note #dn #light yagami #yagami light #death note analysis #sorry this is a mess i thought of this while brushing my teeth and just kinda ran with it #he is everything (/neg) he has been stuck in my head for so damn long get him out please #my ass really thought i was gonna finish my episode 25/26 thought draft but uh nuh-uh. light yagami Brain Blast. enjoy? #i genuinely feel sorry for anyone who has to read this tirade i'm like half awayke okay this is my apology for my yapping #coda analyzes stuff #light's very nature is his own downfall and this is the only way it ever will be #if he cannot make his grand mistake of his own making then he will simply be left unsatisfied and he will always want to be more #but of course we know how it turns out when he does realize that he can be more #he destroys everything around him and then himself and it's all his own action and choice. it's his own nature. this is simply How he is #this is light yagami

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Customer Service

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4460 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, oral sex, no deep throat, just normal skill-level bj, face-fucking, not rough, coming in mouth, facial, dirty talk, hand job

Notes: Originally inspired by this post and also for the Day 5 prompt 'dirty' for Dreamling Week 2024 organized by @mr-sadman

Summary: Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

On AO3

It's hot, in the garage.

Hob's got the windows open, fans at strategic points to stir the air, but it's still warm enough he's stripped off beneath his coveralls and left them open to the waist, only his underwear beneath. It's just him in today, replacing the clutch on the rich guy's Porsche; technically he could be working naked if it weren't for the possibility of customers dropping in. And it's warm enough he's tempted.

The Porsche is secured up on the ramps and he's on his back on the creeper half underneath it, singing along with the retro rock he's got playing on the shop speakers as he works, when suddenly there's the sound of a throat being loudly and deliberately cleared and a nudge to his foot.

"Bloody—" Hob starts, fumbling the wrench without dropping it and grabbing the side of the car to scoot himself out. "What—?"

It's the rich guy, Mr. Ateleíotes, and Hob is abruptly conscious of the figure he cuts, sprawled on his back with a wrench in one hand, legs splayed and his coveralls open, no shirt, sweat and grease smears all over him and his clothes.

And his greasy fingers planted on the pristine smoky-grey paint job of this guy's car.

Oops.

"Don't worry, I'll give her a good cleaning 'fore I give her back to you—"

But the guy's not even looking at where Hob has dirtied his Porsche. His eyes are fixed on Hob, or rather, they're sweeping over his body, lingering on his exposed chest, the grease smears on his torso and the sweat-damp trail of hair disappearing into the open vee of his unzipped coveralls. It's a tangible gaze, and Hob can feel his body responding as the guy sweeps it back up to his face.

He's as pretty as Hob remembers, prettier with that hungry look in his eyes; porcelain-pale skin, artfully-messy black hair, casual tailored black suit with the jacket open and Hob swallows, feels his body flushing under the attention.

"I am sure you will." That voice is as pretty as Hob remembers too, deep and melodious and captivating. He speaks, and Hob wants to drop everything and listen. "I was in the vicinity, and thought to stop in, to see how the repairs are progressing? No one was at the desk."

"Uhm." Get it together, Hob. He sets the wrench aside, sits up, which puts him eye-level to the guy's crotch and oh, hello, he's not the only one with a growing 'problem'. "Yeah, 's just—just me today. Repair's coming along as expected; should be ready for you tomorrow." He stands as he speaks, grunting with the effort. "Clutch replacement will be done before I leave tonight and then I'll do the full tune-up in the morning, so. Like I said—by tomorrow afternoon." His eyes drop to the guy's lips and he jerks them back up, licking his own lips briefly. He shifts his stance, cocking one hip, acutely aware of his open coveralls and how the zip doesn't come together until a good three fingers beneath his navel; he drags the back of his arm across his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead and leaving a smudge of grease behind, not blind to the way that blue eyes darken as they follow the movement. "Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Ateleíotes?"

He only half-meant it to sound like a come-on; it's a perfectly plausible customer service question, but he's also seen half a dozen pornos that start just like this and Mr. Ateleíotes certainly seems interested. Hob's a professional and not about to proposition a customer outright, but if possibilities are on offer, he's not one to let them pass him by.

"There is, indeed, Mr. Gadling," Mr. Ateleíotes purrs—and Hob's dick jumps as the guy reaches to touch him, one pale fingertip tracing through his chest hair, through the grease smear just below. "The mechanic repairing my car, he is absolutely. Mouthwatering." He casts a molten glance up through his eyelashes. "And I would very much like. To suck. His cock." He rubs his thumb against his finger, spreading the grease between the two, and smiles at Hob, simmering and invitational. "Might your shop accommodate such a request?"

Fucking hell— Hob takes a sharp breath; the heat of the shop and the concentration of blood away from his brain are doing him no favors and he fears for half a delirious second he might pass out, but he rallies quickly. "Absolutely," he grins, dick throbbing. "We are a full service garage, after all. Did you want to see about that now, or make an appointment?" He winks.

"Immediately, please," Mr. Atelíotes replies, and there's a spark in his eye, a glint of delight at Hob's carrying of the customer-service bit, and Hob is giddy with it all.

"Right then, let me just clean up real quick—" He's pulled a greasy rag from his back pocket, which won't actually do much but take off half a layer while he heads to the shop sink, but a slim pale hand on his arm stops him.

"No. As you are now, please." The guy steps closer, hungry and intent; Hob's pulse trips into double time.

"I'm kind of filthy though?"

The guy's blue, blue eyes glitter darkly. "I am aware, yes." And then those slender hands are curled in the open edges of Hob's grimy coveralls and the sinful pink of his mouth is pressed up against Hob's.

The sound Hob makes is a little embarrassing, but then there's a supple tongue slipping in next to his own and Mr. Atelíotes gives his own little moan and that's alright then, the guy's a damn good kisser and Hob finds it's really easy to stop caring about dignity in the moment. He surges into the kiss, hands coming up and hovering, painfully aware of the dirt and grease that clings to him and the probable price tag of that tailored suit.

"Touch me," Mr. Atelíotes says, flush against his mouth before kissing again, and it is very much not a suggestion.

Hob pulls away just enough to answer. "Sorry, my hands—don't want to mess up your clothes, love—"

Mr. Atelíotes grabs both of his hands by the wrist and, much to Hob's shock, plants them firmly on the pristine white of his shirt under the suit jacket, guides Hob's grease-stained fingers to clench in the fabric. "Touch me," he repeats, low and heated, winding his hands back beneath Hob's sweaty hair. "Dirty me, dirty my clothes, my skin; I wish to be. Marked by you, stained, with your ardor—"

Hob whimpers, just a little, clenches tight around the fistfuls of now-sullied fabric and pulls him back into a kiss.

Mr. Atelíotes makes a sound of approval, maneuvers him around the front of the car and presses forward, backing Hob against the bonnet. His hips push insistently into Hob's and the feel of his hard-on in those tailored trousers is so fucking gratifying; Hob grinds against him in return, still kissing fiercely, and fumbles at the placket of the ruined shirt.

"Can I unbutton you, love?"

"You needn't ask permission," the guy pants, both hands around the back of Hob's head, his mouth dragging wetly along Hob's jaw. "The shirt will not be salvaged." His teeth latch onto Hob's earlobe, joined next by his tongue, and then warm lips ghost over the shell of Hob's ear, a low murmur following after. "Tear it from me, if you like."

Hob would like, very much, and so he does. He realizes that he has perhaps made a mistake as he hears the buttons pinging and bouncing in every direction; he will never find them all and in the back of his mind he imagines Matty returning from his trip home to the states, asking why he keeps finding these pearly buttons all over the shop, staring Hob down with his beady little all-knowing eyes while Hob burns with the mortification of being Known.

But that is a problem for future Hob; present Hob is occupied with reverently smoothing his unclean hands over the snowy-white skin exposed beneath the torn-open shirt of the gorgeous man who wants to suck his cock. The shirt took a lot of the surface grease but there's still enough on Hob's hands to leave grey-black smudges across the guy's smooth chest that seem to turn him on as much as anything else Hob is doing, which. Okay. Not even close to the strangest sex thing he's ever encountered, and he can definitely work with it.

"God, you look good, sweetheart—" He smooths his hands around bony ribs, smudging dirt and grease and grinning warmly as the guy's eyelids droop almost imperceptibly. "Bit of grime suits you, I think—"

He's cut off as Mr. Atelíotes kisses him again, hot and wet and demanding. Hob's very sure that he's been slotted into this rich guy's fantasy of slumming it with the working class, and that's more than okay too. He'll gladly play it up; not like he's never entertained that sort of idea himself.

He sucks in a breath when the kiss breaks at last. "How am I so lucky that a posh pretty thing like you wants to get your knees dirty for me, hmm?"

"It was not my intention when I arrived," the guy says, panting, forehead resting against Hob's. "But then you rolled out from beneath my car. Gleaming, and. Dirty. And I could think of little else."

Hob chuckles, shivers as slender hands delve back into his sweat-damp hair. "No complaints from me, darling. Delighted that all my natural glory does it for you."

"Dream," Mr. Atelíotes says, fingertips scratching lightly along Hob's scalp.

"Uh?" Hob blinks, not sure quite what he's meant to do with that word.

"My name," Mr. Atelíotes clarifies, leaning in to mouth wetly beneath the corner of Hob's jaw. "Call me what you wish, I am not averse to your endearments—" his tongue takes a path down the sweat-damp curve of Hob's neck "—but should you like to use it. My name—" his lips drag up Hob's throat, over the cleft of his chin "—is Dream." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's open mouth.

"Dream," Hob manages, when he's let up to breathe a moment later. "Beautiful name for a beautiful man—"

"Silver tongue," the guy says, nipping hungrily, helpessly at his mouth. "Such uses I have in mind for it…"

"I'm game, love, anything you like," Hob breathes, enchanted with the possibilities. "Sure you just wanna suck me off? 'Cause you talk like a bloke who'd like to get proper fucked."

That earns him a full-body shiver and a sharp inhale. "I would very much like to be fucked by you, Hob Gadling, in this garage, over this car. But as I did not have the foresight to prepare for that possibility, I will content myself with having your prick in my mouth and your hands in my hair and my name on your lips when you spill."

"Fucking christ," Hob swears, as Mr. Atelíotes—Dream, as Dream slides to his knees in his neat tailored trousers on the dirty shop floor, lips dragging down Hob's stomach as he goes, hands following behind. He glances back up as he reaches the zipper, smiles coyly as he grasps it and draws it all the way down so the coveralls flag completely open down past his crotch. Hob makes no move to take them any further off; Dream has shown no hesitation to tell him exactly what he wants up to now and Hob figures if he wanted them off-off, he'd say so.

Dream curls his fingers in the waistband of Hob's underwear and pulls it low, reaches around to tug it down past his arse cheeks so it stays put and dips into the front with both hands to draw Hob out. Hob shudders at the touch, bites his lip with a stifled sound and leans back on the bonnet. Dream just smiles wider.

"You are as magnificent as I had hoped," he murmurs, cradling Hob's cock to his face, delicately kissing the tip. He grasps it underhand and pulls it down, laves the flat of his tongue along the thick vein on top from crown up to base in a long slow lick, exhales his pleasure on a decadent moan. He reverses his grip, points Hob's dick skyward and nuzzles into his balls, breathing deep. Hob has a flash of self-consciousness—he's been working all day in a shop with no AC, he's got to be a bit ripe—but Dream doesn't seem offput in the least. Rather the opposite, in fact; he buries his nose in Hob's sweat-damp crotch with another moan, mouths wetly at his testicles and sucks each in turn. "Exquisite," he declares to the base of Hob's cock, and drags his tongue lovingly up the underside all the way back to the tip.

Hob's never had his dick worshipped quite like this, he thinks feverishly, every muscle in his thighs and buttocks tensing and flexing against the car as Dream mouths and licks at the head of him with all the enthusiasm of a kid on a melting ice lolly. The heat of the shop and Dream's attentions to his dick have him panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, trembling with anticipation as Dream finally opens wide and takes him in.

It's so fucking good, the soft wet warmth enclosing him, the slide of plush lips down his shaft and back up, again, and again, and Hob is so, so grateful to be in the right place at the right time. Never had he imagined he would find himself here, leaning back against the bonnet of some rich guy's Porsche with that self-same rich guy on his knees on the dirty shop floor, pretty pink lips stretched around him. Dream sucks with skill and enthusiasm and his tongue is positively magical and he's really into the eye contact, gazing up adoringly like having his mouth full of Hob's prick is all he could have wished for when he woke up this morning. It's heady and exhilarating and he's so fucking beautiful, looking at Hob as he glides up and down, hands wrapped around Hob's hips beneath his coveralls, and Hob. He's not always the brightest but he's definitely caught on to the theme of this tryst by now, and Dream's face is entirely too clean.

He lifts a thumb to his chest, smears it through the grease still adorning him there, lowers it to Dream's face. He watches as Dream's eyes widen, rubs a light smear of black across Dream's cheekbone and smiles at the way Dream's pupils dilate, the way Dream whines around his cock. He strokes his other hand through Dream's hair, gently holds him still, drags his greasy thumb down along the corner of Dream's mouth stretched wide around his girth; that earns him a whimper and Dream shivers, eyes fluttering briefly closed. He sucks harder, tongue flicking delicately against the tip, eyes pleading now with Hob, and he takes Hob's free hand, guides it to rest in his own hair like the other. Hob takes the hint, holds Dream's head still in both hands and gives a gentle roll of his hips; his cock slides out of Dream's mouth and back in and that's. Yes. Another roll of his hips, out and back and Dream whimpers and fuck, but it's good—

"God you're gorgeous," he moans, carefully combing his fingers through Dream's hair, heat blazing in his belly as he watches his dick sliding between Dream's luscious lips. Dream is making the sweetest little sounds now, cheeks flushed beneath the grease stain, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazes up at Hob like this is everything he could have wanted; he drops his hands to undo his belt, to pull himself out and start stroking, and that's just. That's it.

Dream splays his free hand across Hob's thigh over the coveralls and Hob fucks, careful and shallow, driven by the view before him and the thought of how they look together and the hungry eager noises Dream makes around him. He can feel himself climbing, soaring up to his peak, sweet and steady; the hot-wet slide in and out of Dream's mouth and the way his tongue wriggles along the underside on every stroke are making short work of the journey and Hob is panting out sharp desperate grunts and moans as it looms closer and closer. His balls are drawn up tight and full and he's close, so close, and he can't just—he's got to give him warning—

"Dream, sweetheart, I'm about to pop—"

But Dream only moves his hand from Hob's thigh to wrap around Hob's cock and doubles down on whatever he's doing with his tongue, and Hob moans, hips stuttering, Dream working him masterfully up to the crest; helpless, with a breathless grunting cry, Hob tips over the edge.

Dream takes the first shot of his come with a delighted little moan and then quickly pulls off of Hob's dick as he spurts again. It lands across Dream's face, white against the black smears of grease; the next shot falls a little shorter, half on his cheek and half in his open mouth and then Dream is diving back onto his cock for the rest, sucking hard with a desperate needy little whimper. The tip of his tongue worries at Hob's slit in search of every last drop and Hob groans, body clenching and spasming again and again to give this insatiable hungry creature everything that he wants.

But at last he has nothing left to give and his cock is shrinking from Dream's ravenous mouth, overstimulated by the way Dream still nurses at the tip, the grip Dream's got around the base of it. Firmly but gently Hob flexes his hands in Dream's tousled hair and eases him back, off. Dream gazes up at him, flushed and heavy-eyed, panting with his shirt and suit and trousers open, stroking himself steadily.

His tongue curls out to lick Hob's come from his upper lip, and his smile is sultry, hungry.

"Get up here, beautiful." Hob pulls Dream to his feet, slides a hand around the back of Dream's neck, smears his come liberally across Dream's grease-stained cheek with his thumb on the way. Dream's mouth opens and Hob plunges in, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself with a heady sort of satisfaction. Being wanted feels so good, whatever the reason.

Dream is still stroking himself, his easy rhythm speeding up, fist bumping against Hob's hip each time, and Hob breaks the kiss after a moment. "D'you want me to suck you off?"

"No, no—but touch me—" He seizes Hob's hand, brings it down to his own dick.

Hob hesitates for half a second—scrubbing automotive grease off your chest or hands or even your face is one thing; scrubbing it off your dick would be quite another and he's not interested in putting Dream through that sort of grief. But his hands have touched enough in the last fifteen minutes that all the easily-transferable grime is gone; it's really just the deeper-level staining going on and a bit of heavy petting shouldn't create a problem. So he takes Dream in hand, slides his other arm around Dream's back for support and strokes his lovely cock with relish, claims his sticky mouth in another kiss.

Dream whines into it, eager and open, and brings his hand to Hob's chest. He plants it in that grease smear that's still got some substance to it and splays his fingers wide, spreads it around like it's lotion and okay, maybe it is kind of hot Hob decides. Maybe it'll be a bitch to clean up but he's not about to stop the gorgeous creature in his arms from making a bigger mess of his body hair if it's getting him off. He's enjoyed being the fantasy this pretty posh thing needs, is still happy to play his part until the end.

He starts stroking a bit faster and breaks the kiss, drags his lips across Dream's messy cheek to his ear.

"God I'd love to fuck you, spread you open and pound you senseless, leave my dirty handprints all over your pretty white arse—"

Dream makes a raw little sound of want and buries his face against Hob's throat, panting open-mouthed. He smears his greasy hand down Hob's torso again, slips it around beneath the open coveralls, fingertips sliding into the sweaty dip of Hob's spine, hanging on as Hob works him up to the edge. His other hand clings to the grimy fabric at Hob's shoulder.

Hob flicks his tongue along the shell of Dream's ear, a soft tease, speaks again. "I would make such a sweet sweet mess of you, darling, fuck you until you've had enough and then pump you so full of my come that it runs down your beautiful thighs—"

"Hob—"

"Sure I can't get my mouth on you?" Hob tightens his fingers around Dream's cock, stroking faster, caught up in the thrill of the fantasy he's spinning. "I'll bet you taste amazing, Dream, especially after I've had my filthy hands all over you—"

Dream is tense in his arms, breath shallow and rapid and he shakes his head, trembling. "Hob—ahh—Hob—" He dips, pulling the shoulder of Hob's coveralls aside and nudging desperately beneath their edge until he finds Hob's armpit; he mouths at the crease of it, wet and open with the most wanton little sound. He inhales and whines, high and sharp and short; he gasps out another whine, and another, higher and more urgent each time and then he is coming, head lolling back with a broken cry as he throbs and pulses in Hob's hand.

Hob pulls his cock tight, lets Dream shoot all over him, his arm and his belly; he keeps his other arm around Dream as he sags a long instant later, forehead falling against Hob's shoulder, panting, spent. Dream's hand twitches against Hob's spine and his fingers drag sensually slow around the curve of Hob's waist.

Hob wipes his messy hand on the side of his coveralls—best he's gonna get right now—and then curls his knuckle under Dream's chin, tipping his pretty face up.

"Alright then?" he asks, as those gorgeous blue eyes blink open, and Dream gives the faintest nod into Hob's gentle touch.

"Mmh." His face is soft, sated and open and inviting what with the way his lips are parted, and Hob can't quite stop himself dipping in for a kiss.

Dream welcomes it, meets him halfway with mellow eagerness and Hob sighs into it, awash in his own post-orgasmic high. This kiss. This kiss. It's sweet, and languid, and god but Hob could lose himself in it, in the thought of keeping this guy.

Dangerous, that.

So he breaks the kiss at last with a grin, then steps back and pulls his underwear up where it belongs again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up here." He moves toward the shop sink, hums a little distractedly along to the music on the speakers that has just filtered back into his awareness.

Dream follows, but makes no move to clean the smeared grease from his skin.

"No, I think not," he says, in that low effortlessly-sensual voice that plucks quivering notes of interest all along Hob's spine even now, in the aftermath. "I should like to carry your marks home with me." He takes up his pristine shirttails and wipes his hands deliberately on them, eyes on Hob all the while.

It's not his business if Dream wants to show up at home dirty and disheveled with his shirt torn open and looking absolutely debauched; maybe he lives alone and there's no one to comment, maybe he wants to flaunt his dalliance in the face of a parent or sibling or servant or who knows—no concern of Hob's at all, he reiterates, but damned if the idea of Dream proudly showing off the mess Hob's made of him doesn't turn him right the hell back on again.

"As you wish," he says, but plucks one of the many sample-sized bottles of Matty's favorite Orange Goop off the shelf and holds it out. "But take this with you; whenever you are ready to clean up, it'll be a big help."

Dream takes the bottle, slides it into the pocket of his trousers, which he has just re-fastened; he draws his suit jacket together over the ruin of his shirt and buttons it, making himself semi-presentable for his drive home. His eyes linger on Hob, however, on grease-smeared chest hair and the remains of his own orgasm on Hob's belly, on the shape of Hob in his underwear where he still hasn't bothered re-zipping his coveralls.

Dream's eyes flick up to Hob's, dark with banked heat.

"I really ought to learn more about the proper care and maintenance of this vehicle," he says, ostensibly about the Porsche, but his gaze stays fixed on Hob. "Will you be working alone tomorrow, as well?"

Hob hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his flagged-open coveralls, lets his hip jut forward just a little. "Yeah, Matty's out all week, so it's just me for a couple more days."

"Then perhaps I will. Arrive early, to pick up my car, and you can show me your best techniques for finishing the job."

The warm weight in his tone, the smouldering heat of his gaze, the way he'd talked earlier about getting fucked over the bonnet—his intent is crystal clear, and Hob is one hundred percent on board.

"Brilliant plan," he says, with a broad smile, and Dream's lips curl sweetly in response.

"Should I book an appointment, to ensure your availability?"

Hob waves a hand dismissively. "If you like, but it's not necessary? Just show up when it's convenient and I'll fit you right in." He winks.

"Truly, you take excellent care of your customers." Dream's smile is positively feline at this point.

"I'm just delighted I can help you out with all your maintenance needs." Hob lets a hint of mischief seep into his own smile, just enough to promise this pretty posh thing that coming back is definitely worth his while.

Dream's eyes lower and he inclines his head, an old-fashioned little bow of farewell that suits him perfectly. "Then I will see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling. My thanks for your…irreproachable service."

And he sweeps back out of the shop, Hob watching him go every step of the way.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 6/1/24 Posted: 6/4/25

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Week 2024

[dominimoonbeam]

Anything

Another mugging fic!

David&Babe

tw: mugging, light angst, friendship developing, pack feels, pack dynamics

Anything

They hadn’t called him.

He’d gotten a call from the Department about an incident with one of his pack. He’d rolled his eyes at first and nodded, waiting for another report about some conflict Darlin or Chrissy had gotten into. It wasn’t that the others weren’t possibilities, it was just that Milo would have told him before the Department and Asher was out of town.

But then they dropped a name he’d never heard the Department mention to him before, not since he confirmed them being in his pack. His heart squeezed in his chest. Mugged? What the fuck did they mean mugged?

“Where are they?” He was already out the door, keys in hand.

“What?”

“Where?”

“Oh, um. It looks like they checked themself out of the hospital after making a statement to the unempowered authorities… It doesn’t look like they broke covert although the report does suggest the assailant was empowered…”

David felt sick, teeth too long and hand shaking around his keys. It was too much information at once, all tossed out carelessly by this desk clerk on the phone like none of it even mattered. Hospital. They had been taken to the hospital? What the fuck had happened? And who had mugged them? And why, in the hell, did this asshole think David gave any fucks about covert?

“How injured were they?” he interrupted. They’d been taken to a hospital, but they seem to have left on their own. David wanted to find comfort in that detail but he couldn’t, because he knew for a fact that Babe could and would push through pain and illness. They would sooner walk home with a broken leg than ask someone for help and risk being a burden.

Fuck! Now he was worried they were walking around on a broken leg.

“Um… It looks like they were treated for some cuts and scrapes. There’s a note about a possible concussion but the doctor didn’t seem overly worried.” And the empowered clerk on the phone didn’t sound worried either.

“Cuts?”

“And scrapes.”

David ground his teeth. “What makes you say the assailant was probably empowered?”

“Oh. There’s a note about them being bitten. They kept their story pretty vague though,” he sounded pleased and then huffed a smile. “The unempowered doctors gave them antibiotics in case of an infection.”

David hung up. He had to. If he didn’t, he would somehow kill this person through the phone. He immediately dialed another number, sliding into the driver’s seat of his truck. He put the phone on the dash and started the engine. It didn’t take Milo long to answer. “Boss?”

David hesitated just when he was about to speak. Babe was pack but they were human and they were so private.

“David?” Milo was louder, closer to his phone and focused with concern.

“I’m going to need your help, but I need you and Stealth to keep it quite.” It never even occurred to him to ask Milo to keep anything from his partner.

“There was an incident with Babe. I’m headed to their apartment now. I need you to find out everything you can from the department.” He took a turn and pulled into an alley beside their building, not caring if he was in a loading zone.

“Yeah. On it. Are they okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said without thinking and froze just as he was getting out of his truck.

He didn’t know.

His instincts raged, his wolf rolling under his skin. He didn’t know. A member of his pack—the most important person in the world to his best friend—and he had no idea.

“I’ll get back to you.” He hung up and used Asher’s spare key to get into the building. He couldn’t wait for the lift, taking the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t until he was in the hall that he knew something was wrong, something other than everything else wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it until he was at their apartment door.

He knocked, but already his stomach was twisting because his senses told him they weren’t there. Not only was their apartment empty, but their scent was so faint in the hallway that he knew they hadn’t been there in hours, probably not since they left for work that morning, definitely not with any cuts.

Cuts.

Bites.

His skin crawled and he wanted to growl and whine at the same time. He needed to see them. He needed to know how bad this was and do everything he could to fix it.

He scrolled his phone numbers and tried to call them. It went immediately to voicemail.

“Fuck,” he pushed the heel of his palm against his temple. Did they even have their phone? Where would they be?

He could have the pack find them. If they fanned out, they’d have them in no time. But then he would be making this moment, this day—their day—pack public. And he didn’t know yet if that was okay with them.

Asher hadn’t called him yet. Which meant, either they were on the phone with him right now, or he didn’t know yet.

David needed eyes on Babe. He needed to be able to tell Asher he was looking at them and that they were okay, or he would lose his mind.

He tried to think up places Babe would go on his way down the stairs.

Where would he go if he was unempowered and recently attacked by a vampire? They’d called it a mugging. Had the biter really robbed them? He flipped his keys against his palm but stopped one step toward his car. The hospital wasn’t far from here. Even on foot, even slowed by injury, they would have been there by now. So, if they didn’t go home, where did they go?

He called Angel to ask if Babe had come to their place. No. Angel had questions, but David promised to explain soon and they promised to call if they heard from Babe until then.

His phone rang almost as soon as he hung up.

Milo.

David answered.

“Are they okay?”

“I don’t know,” he ground out again. “They aren’t at their apartment.”

“What?”

David looked up and down the street. It was getting dark. “Was their phone stolen?”

“No. It was broken. They were on their way home from work, just got off the subway—”

David pivoted, looking in the direction of their stop.

“In their statement to the cops, they called their attacker a biter at first—said he cornered them before they could get out of the underground station and took their jacket and their bag. They didn’t have any money or cards on them so they must have left the hospital on foot. They can’t have gotten far.”

“Did they have their keys?” David started walking toward the subway station.

Milo was moving on his side too. “It didn’t sound like it.”

If David was in Babe’s shoes, he would just want to go home. He would want to be in his own space with the door locked. But if they didn’t have their keys, they couldn’t get home. They could, of course, call him. He had the spare. But he wasn’t sure they would even if they had their phone.

He descended the steps into the subway.

“I can start at the hospital and track them.”

��Are you at the hospital now?”

“I’m on my way.”

“Good.” David hung up just as the call would have cut out anyway. The air was colder underground, the lights yellow and the hallways echoing with the hum of a passing train. The afterwork crowd had thinned out and it wasn’t quite late enough for the party crowds.

He hopped the entrance and shivered when he inhaled their scent.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain how relieved he felt when he saw them standing there on the platform. They looked awful. Their pants were dirty and their shirt bloodstained and torn. He’d never seen them even mussed let alone a complete mess before. One hand clutched at the bandage around their wrist, squeezing as they frowned and stared, seeming to scrutinize the tracks.

For one horrific second he thought they were going to jump. They kept cutting glances up and down the tracks and shifting their weight where they stood at the edge.

“Babe.”

They jumped and spun around too fast.

He closed the distance and caught their hands in both of his to tug them that one step forward, away from the edge.

They stared up at him, one eye blood-red where it should be white and their cheekbone bruised in dark purple clouds. Their jaw was scraped up like they’d landed on the ground, matching their scabbed palms in his hands. “What are you doing?” David asked, trying so hard to keep his voice low and soft—trying not to growl or yell because of the fear that had built in his chest from the moment he heard their name on that call.

“Oh,” they exhaled and their shoulders dropped. They looked down at themself and flushed. “Sorry. It’s been a bad night. I was mugged but it’s fine.”

They didn’t know he knew about that. “It doesn’t look fine.”

They turned toward the tracks again. “I kicked my keys when he went for them and they went down there… If he got my keys he could be at my place and if he didn’t, well, I need them.” Their voice was tinny, carefully logical but fragile in that desperation.

David nodded, still holding onto their hands and very gently drawing them another step away from the tracks. “I’ll look.”

Babe exhaled hard and shook their head, wincing at a pain in their body and stopping short in the gesture. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find them. You’ve probably got someplace to be.”

David stared at them. Was it shock or did they really think he was just passing by? He folded their hands inside of his. This was the first time he’d ever touched Babe. Pack was very physical but David had never been good at building those relationships. With other wolves, it was easier. It was simpler. With the non-shifters in the pack, it had always been so much harder. He knew now that he’d made a mistake when he thought that was okay—that he didn’t need to build on those bonds as well. Babe was looking at him like a work associate being nice to them on a rough day. It was polite but unexpected and certainly unnecessary. They expected nothing from him.

“I don’t have anywhere to be. I came here looking for you,” he said, their hand spasming in his.

They looked down at their joined hands for the first time, as if just now registering the contact. And then their eyes widened and their face shot up to seek his gaze again. Their words rushed out of them. “I didn’t break covert.”

It was a gut punch.

They pulled their hands out of his and took a step back, chin pressing high as they tried to stand taller. “I would have let you know after… After I got home. I just…” They looked over their shoulder at the tracks and their lost keys again, frowning.

David nodded. First problem first. He could do that.

He stepped around them and up to the edge of the platform, eyeing the shadows until he spotted the bundle of keys on a ring. He jumped down.

“Be careful!” Babe rushed to the edge.

David could hear the trains and knew exactly how long he had. He snagged the keys, pocketed them, and jumped back up onto the platform. He was just turning them toward the exit when Milo came down the steps, slowing and stopping at the sight of them.

“Hey,” he said to Babe, gaze flicking over the state of them.

David heard the way the other wolf’s pulse quickened, the edges of rage tucked behind his teeth.

Babe sighed, shoulders drooping as they started up the stairs. “I guess this is a thing now.”

Milo frowned and turned to follow them. “How was this not going to be?”

David shot him a warning look but Babe didn’t wither under the badgering tone. They sighed again, a little groan of annoyance now. They were slow on the steps but neither shifter was going to rush them.

“I mean, I figured I could go home and clean up before it had to be public knowledge that I got mugged. Asher is going to be—” They stopped and swung around.

Both shifters stopped, arms out to stabilize them if they were falling over.

“Does he know? He’s going to panic and think I died.”

David blinked at the rush of words. He shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.” He really just wanted to see them—to be able to tell his best friend that they were in one piece and breathing.

Babe sagged in relief, nodding, almost slumping into the railing with the weight of it. “Good. Good. Just, let me clean up and I’ll video call him. That’ll be better.”

David wasn’t sure it would be, but he nodded.

Babe started the upward march again. David had never realized how many fucking steps their were until he watched this human drag themself up each one. He could swear he could hear Milo’s teeth grinding on the effort not to pick them up—the same as his.

“Do you know who it was?” David asked, trying to distract all of them while getting a little information.

“What?”

“The biter,” Milo helped.

Babe jerked a little, free hand flying to the bandage on their wrist. “I’m not going to turn am I?”

Milo laughed.

David groaned. “No. Asher really needs to take you to those classes…”

They exhaled tired relief. “Never saw him before. He cornered me and tossed me around. Bit my wrist and then laughed. He wanted my stuff, my phone, my keys, and my wallet.” They swallowed, looking up at the last stretch of steps.

David squeezed his fists until his fingers popped to resist scooping them up.

They continued to walk. “But my phone was busted from his initial attack and the keys I’d kicked. The next train was coming in. He took all my cards though and said…” Babe stopped then they reached the sidewalk atop the steps. They took a deep breath.

“Said what?” David asked.

They opened their eyes and looked at him, not seeming to know what he was talking about at first.

“What did the vampire say?”

A shudder rocked them when they remembered and it was like watching a person remember to be afraid. “Oh.”

“Babe?”

They looked up the street toward their building. “He said he’d see me later.”

Milo growled low in his chest and David felt relieved at the sound if only because it was the echo of the one he was holding back.

Babe looked at them both. “He didn’t mean it though, right? I mean, that’s just something someone would say to scare. There’s no reason for him to bother with me again.”

David frowned. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Babe nodded like he was agreeing with them, relieved and started down the sidewalk.

David tipped his head toward Milo, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Find him,” David growled. “Get Darlin to help you and hunt him down. I want him in pieces in a box by morning.”

Milo nodded once and was gone.

David joined Babe, close at their side but not quite touching, always ready to catch them or buffer anyone else out of their way. It was one of the longest walks of his life but they both sagged in relief when they reached their apartment door. For a second Babe thought they’d lost their keys again, until David pulled them from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“You don’t have to stay,” they said when they were inside.

He shut and locked the door. The lock was just for them. Nothing was getting past him.

Babe let out a little laugh. “I’m going to clean up, okay? I’ll call Ash after that. Just… Just wait, okay?”

David nodded and stayed in the living room when they headed down the hall to their bathroom.

He kept his senses focused on their breathing, hearing it even through the shut door and the spray of the shower. It took everything he had not to move when they started crying. They needed that moment alone and he wasn’t going to take it from them. He was going to pretend he hadn’t listened, even if he was, even if he had to just in case they passed out.

He texted Angel to let them know that he had found Babe, everything was okay, but he’d be over at Asher and Babe’s for a while.

-

Babe tried not to cry. Really they did. It was stupid. It wouldn’t help anything. Oh god but it had been such a bad night. They’d been so scared and then so embarrassed and now they were a mess and they’d have to call Asher and he’d feel terrible and the whole pack knew and it was going to be a big deal and how could they even convince anyone it wasn’t when their face looked like that!

They stripped down and bunched all their clothes into a tight ball, cramming them down into the trash and then tying off the plastic bag and throwing it into the corner. They felt like a mess. They felt out of control and like everyone was looking. It made their skin hurt.

They showered, trying not to wallow and take too long because they knew David would still be out there. Poor guy was stuck having to sit in their living room, thinking they were falling apart. If they could show him they were fine he’d probably feel okay to leave.

They cried some more in the shower, hoping to get the last of it out. They cleaned up, dressed in some soft sweats and a hoodie with long sleeves. Their palms throbbed, the scrapes deep and matching the ones on their jaw. It was going to look even worse tomorrow. And their eye… they could barely look at it, the white gone red.

When it was as good as it was going to get, they marched back down the hall to their living room. David wasn’t there. Their heart lurched but just as soon as they’d started to panic that they were all alone, they found him in the kitchen. He had the fridge open but had stopped to stare back at them. “I forgot that living with Ash, there’s never any leftovers.”

They exhaled, letting some of the strain in their chest go with that breath. “Yeah. I can make you—”

He shot them a look that was between outrage and shock. “I’ll make us something. What do you want?”

“Oh. You don’t have to.”

“French toast, right?”

Babe stared at him, the sleeves of Asher’s hoodie bunched up in their palms, pressing into those scrapes. “What?”

“When we do pack get togethers overnight and make waffles or pancakes in the morning… Ash always asks for French toast,” he said as he pulled the eggs and milk out and then found a loaf of bread. “He never used to ask for French toast. He has a whole thing about pancakes being superior to all other breakfast options. He started asking for French toast when you joined.”

Babe felt heat rush their face and something ease in their heart. They sank into one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, nodding. “Yeah.” They loved French toast.

David nodded and then took out of phone and waved it over his shoulder. “Do you want to call or do you want me to?”

Tears stung their eyes. It was stupid. Everything was fine and they just needed to let Ash know that.

They held out their hand and David passed them the phone.

It wasn’t hard to find his number and it only rang a couple times before that voice they’d been missing so much picked up.

“Hey buddy. What’s up?” Asher sing-songed, thinking it was David calling.

He was on some trip to meet and get to know other packs on the continent, a gathering out in the wilderness to build relationships. Baby sighed.

The levity was gone from his voice. “Babe? What are you doing on David’s phone?”

How the hell were they supposed to say this? “Everything is okay. Everyone is okay. I just… My phone is broken.” True but not all of it. They closed their eyes. “I got mugged in the subway and my phone got broken. David had to walk me home.” Nope, not quite. “There was a police report and I had to go to the hospital, but I’m okay and I didn’t break covert or anything.”

The pause seemed long even if it was only seconds. “Oh Baabe,” he said so gently that their heart melted. “I’m so sorry. You’re sure you’re okay? That must have been so scary.”

They exhaled so much relief, dropping their head forward onto their folded arm on the counter. Thank god he hadn’t freaked out. They weren’t sure they could handle that right now. They just wanted normal. “It was but I’m okay.”

“You’re home now?”

They nodded and then remembered they had to actually say it. “Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking tough, Baabe. I’ll be there in the morning.”

They sat up, dragging a breath. “You don’t have to—”

“You know I’m coming home. Really, you’re giving me an excuse to do exactly what I want, which is to come back to you. So just hang tight, okay? Order delivery or something, sleep in, and I’ll be there when you wake up, okay?”

Babe hummed something close to a yes.

“David’s there?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I talk to him? I’ll be home soon, okay? I love you so much, Baabe.”

“I love you too,” they said and then held out the phone.

David took it and held it to his ear.

-

David turned back toward the eggs.

“Who?” There was no smile or light-heartedness to Asher’s voice now.

“Milo’s on it.”

“How bad is it?”

“Not bad.” He couldn’t give him details without Babe overhearing. “I’ll text you.”

“Broken bones?”

“No,” he was fast to answer that.

“Unempowered?”

“No.”

Asher growled.

“Milo’s on it,” David reminded. “I’ll have it for you when you get here.”

“David…” Asher started, human voice shuddering with the effort to stay in that form when probably his whole wolf was trying to shift out and run.

“Anything,” he said.

“Just… stay with them until I get there? They’re tough but…”

David nodded. He’d never intended to go anywhere. “We’re making French toast. We’ll be here when you get back to town.”

Asher grunted and hung up. It wasn’t like him to be short on words but David understood.

Babe had their head in their arms again. “You don’t have to stay,” they said as soon as he started cracking eggs. “I’m probably just going to sleep.”

“Great. Then I can pick what we’re watching.”

Babe lifted their head and looked at him before relenting with a nod. “Sure. You’re a good friend. Asher’s lucky to have you,” they said, voice quiet with the soft compliment.

It made his chest swell but his brow pinch. “You’re pack, Babe. Yes, you’re Asher’s mate, but you’re also pack.” He sighed. “You should have called me from the hospital, not because this was some sort of trouble you needed to report but because you needed help.”

“I didn’t.”

“You could have used help,” he reworded for them and felt the echo of his words in words spoken to him by Asher in the past. “You could have called any of us. You don’t have to call me if you don’t want to, but Milo or—”

“My phone was broken.”

“There are phones in the hospital. You know you could have called… and I know why you didn’t. But you don’t need to need us to call us. It’s okay to just want us to show up.”

They pressed their lips, thinking about it.

He cracked another egg. “And stop worrying about covert.”

They looked up. “But you worry about covert—”

“Yeah. It’s my job to worry about it on behalf of the pack. You don’t need to give a shit about it. When someone hurts you, all bets are off, and I will handle everything else.”

Babe blinked at him and then finally asked. “The vampire isn’t going to come back for me, is he?”

David huffed, looking for the cinnamon on the shelf. “No. You don’t ever need to worry about that.”

Babe sighed and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

#redactedverse #redacted asmr #fanfic #babe & david #pack feels #pack dynamics #mugging fic #light angst #developing friendship #<3

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Tags: Talks of consent/Sex, switch reader, switch Simon — Mildly suggestive

Tell me what's alright?

"Si?"

"Hm? Yeah?"

The burly man awoke, or has been awake. You couldn't know, he sleeps as if he was dead, well. Simon Riley is dead, legally.

"Do you ever wanna-...?"

Your hands gently trace onto his back, trying to ease him into the conversation as you feel him shift, starting to gain consciousness as he gets at what you were asking of him, the topic making him tense and clammy in all the wrong places.

"Fuck?"

He says the word so bluntly as if it didn't hold the a knife to his neck. Making his breath quick and uneasy, heart pacing into what could only be described as the urge to run.

"……

"...?"

Make love, what a tame way to describe it. The lust of humanity, the hunger of want. Anything poisonous and harsh can be sugarcoated yet the way you say those words make him want to believe it.

...I think I'd rather make love to you."

Simon let's his jaw relax, knowing he had to have this conversation sometime. It was now or never. His arms, though numb, found purpose against the bed, leveraging himself to turn around, careful to not crush, a trust found as you gaze into those honey-like eyes.

"Yeah? You'd make love to me, sweetheart?"

He tries to play it off cool, and yet. He knows you know. Months of watching and learning and observing each and every letter of his body language made you read him like an open book, all of his secrets known to you open to read, never to hear.

You ask as if you were trying to lure in a feral animal, soft voice and open arms. A welcome invitation that he takes restlessly, the only place where he feels welcome. Knocking the wind out of your lungs the way he squeezes you all the way from the front to the back.

"Would you let me?"

His answer is clear, though unspoken. He would do anything for you, ask him to die for you and all he'd worry about is if his blood would stain your skin, he'd prostrate himself faster than he could hurt you. His angel, his salvation. He'd kill for you, and he will again.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #soft simon riley #soft simon ghost Riley #cod ghost #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #ghost #cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Could you do a Lookalike reader getting his hooves or ears brushed / cleaned by Alastor in a similar vein to the antler one? Maybe a standalone mini series of 'Parts I wanted to include in the main series but couldn't find space for it.'

I would be so up for that.

Hey man, thanks for the ask! I think I went a bit off-topic here, but I still think it's hot so I'm gonna post it. I've put a line for the more squeamish readers to stop at. Caveat emptor and all that.

Pairing: Alastor X reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: they/them pronouns, reader is a hermaphrodite, Foot stuff, Hoof stuff, scent glands, DEER THINGS, slight sexual content, Alastor being fucking weird

You didn’t know what was wrong with you at first. You’d held a variety of jobs during your mortal life, but vet wasn’t one of them. What you knew about medicine you knew from backwoods surgery, and what you knew about deer physiology was limited to the things that made their meat unsafe for consumption, the telltale lesions and growths on a carcass that meant it got burned or buried rather than butchered. This wasn’t one of those things.

There was a hard lump on the front of your leg, above where the keratin of your two standing nails ended and below the level of your dewclaws, close to the webbing of skin where your two toes joined. On a human this would have been the shin, but for you it felt more like your tarsal.

It had been small at first, and you had ignored it. Then it had grown larger, painful as it had rubbed against the tongue of your boot. Today you had limped your way through your shift at the hotel, your smile more of a grimace than anything that could genuinely be describes as cheerful, and retreated to the room you shared with Alastor as soon as your contract no longer compelled you to work.

Now you lay in the four-footed bathtub in Alastor’s ensuite bathroom, examining your hoof more thoroughly. Was this an abscess? Did you need to lance it? Your skin graded to a dark grey towards your red nails, so it was difficult to gauge the lump’s condition from color as it would be on a paler part of you. You were pushing at the lump with your fingers, feeling the heat of inflamed flesh when Alastor materialized from the shadows at the bathroom door, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected him to return to the room for hours, and even then, he generally gave you privacy when you were cleaning yourself. Fear shot through you like a cold wave in your stomach, the feeling of being caught, and you fought the reflex to hide your leg from Alastor. Your career as a serial killer would have been short-lived if you weren’t able to hide guilt, after all. “Do you mind?” you said, broadcasting annoyance.

Alastor looked unimpressed, taking a step closer. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“I would think it’s fairly apparent, but right now I was thinking of cutting my nails,” you lied, smoothly. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, looking for you,” said Alastor, his gaze settling on the red tips of your hooves. “I was about to cook dinner for everyone, and I could do with a sous chef who doesn’t try to boil themselves every time I set a pot of water on the heat or drink all the wine before it goes in the sauce.” He moved closer, arms behind his back. “Though I suppose those are getting rather long,” he said, eyes still on your standing nails, the two red points on the end of each of your hooves. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I couldn’t put you out,” you raised a hand in protest, but Alastor was already in the space with you, bending to fetch a pedicure kit full of small knives, curved clippers and different grades of files from the cupboard that stood next to the basin.

“Nonsense, my dear, pure nonsense.” Alastor took a seat on the painted metal stool that lived next to the tub and looked down at you, teeth gleaming. “I hope you don’t mean to say I’m not up to the task.”

“Of course not,” you frowned, and Alastor clicked his tongue in disapproval as he took your good leg in his hand.

Disapproval at your facial expression did nothing to stop Alastor’s roving hands, however, the hand that was holding your leg stroking down the arch of your foot to the pads beneath as he fetched a pair of clippers from the box at his feet. The touch was pleasant, and deliberate, and the clippers resembled a pair of secateurs more than anything else, the sort that could easily remove a thumb if applied correctly.

“If you cut to here-” Alastor took your hand, pulling it to the pad of your hoof, where the flesh was attached to the backside of the nail, and traced a line, dragging your finger alongside his. “-the hoof will be too short, and you’ll injure yourself walking-” You listened carefully as Alastor talked, moving your fingers over your hoof so that you would know his instructions by touch. It would have been a relaxing, bonding activity, if it weren’t for the aching lump on your leg, and your growing anxiety at it being discovered. Alastor’s hands were gentle on the pads beneath your hooves, holding your leg perfectly steady as he made each cut.

He moved to your other leg, and you were sure he would notice the lump, but he said nothing, either ignorant or letting you stew in your own embarrassment as you lay in the warm bathwater, his skilled fingers squeezing the arch of your hoof, thumb brushing against your dewclaws as he repeated the process, leaving you enough length in your nail that you would be able to walk comfortably. Sweeping the red slivers of your hooves aside, Alastor took a pair of files from the box, one coarse, one fine, and you felt the vibrations through the nail and through the bones of your leg as he filed down the rough edges. He did it slowly, watching your face as he drew the file back and forth with a gradual movement, the sensation something like a shiver as the metal abraded the surface. When he was done, he ran a thumb over each edge, feeling for imperfections.

Alastor brushed away the fine pink dust with his hand and smiled at his handiwork. “There. That’s better, don’t you agree?”

You nodded, something like relief flooding through you when Alastor hadn’t addressed the problem. You were free to deal with it. Privately.

[nb: if you just wanted hoof clipping, stop reading here]

“And it’s high time we did something about that,” said Alastor, gaze sliding over your bad leg, and your sense of relief shattered. “After all, you didn’t really think there was any part of yourself that you could keep a secret from me, did you?” Alastor’s smile turned cruel, his finger tracing a gentle line up between the two toes of your cloven hoof to the lump, even the light pressure he applied excruciating, and you held your breath to not cry out. “You were limping, darling,” he continued, voice chiding. “I was worried.”

You blinked away tears of pain, studying Alastor’s expression. Really, you’d been embarrassed more than anything- the horror that the strange lump might be due to a failure of basic hygiene on your part, but the way that Alastor examined it without surprise told you that it was an issue he was at least familiar with. Maybe something he’d dealt with on his own body, in his early days in Hell.

“You know what it is?” you asked.

Alastor hummed, his fingers trailing down the freshly pedicured red keratin of your nails and round to the soft pads of flesh that sat behind them, pressing and probing. Oh, that felt nice. “You’ve field dressed a deer before,” he said, chiding. “You really should know this yourself.”

You sank a little deeper into the bath, pouting. “I was a hunter, not a veterinarian. I cut the hooves off before skinning. Dried them sometimes.”

“And I thought you were a curious person.” Alastor smiled to himself, seeming to enjoy having such an advantage over you. “But I suppose I should educate you.” His fingers ceased their massage of your spongy underfoot, and he parted your toes, his touch on the web of skin where the two of them joined. “You have a scent gland here,” he said, pressing his finger against a narrow vertical slit on your dark skin, less than an inch in length. Like the lump above it, it was tender. “It’s blocked. You should have come to me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt your ears drop, your leg relaxing a little in Alastor’s grip,

“That is quite the hangdog look you have.” Alastor’s smile grew thin, and he reached over to cup your cheek. “Fear not, I know a remedy.” His fingers lingered, tracing the grim line of your mouth. “It will be painful though, you think you can grin and bear it?”

Alastor always wanted a smile from you, but especially in difficult situations. You weren’t sure if it was sadism, a test, or some twisted beneficence on his part. “Of course,” you said.

“I will hold you to that, dearest,” said Alastor, raising your hoof to his lips. It was all you could do not to gasp when he ran his tongue between your two standing toes, laving the pad of each, a pleasurable but alien sensation. It made it easy to smile for him, and his eyes met yours, the corners creasing with approval. His hand cupped the back of your leg, the part that your brain still fuzzily equated to the arch of your foot, long fingers stroking the lines of the tendons. You had been intimate with him enough times that there was no terror for you in his teeth, only the disconcerting sensation of sharpness as he pressed his mouth to your spread toes, his lips a seal around your scent gland, and sucked.

To describe the sensation as pain was technically correct, but it would be like describing standing within a meter of a working jet engine as loud, or the sea as wet. It was a nerve pain, a primal sensation of wrongness. Pain conducted through the bones of your leg to your stomach and your spine, making you queasy and tearful all at once. But you had promised you would smile through this, so you fought for conscious control of your face, forcing your breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, pushing the tension that had collected in your shoulders down as you lay back in the bath, the corners of your mouth up. You spread the fingers of your hands over the lip of the bathtub, palms outward, arms trembling, and Alastor clasped one of your hands in his, squeezing.

Tears rolled hot down your face as Alastor continued, the sensation unrelenting, the only sound in the room your breathing and the low frequency hum from the lights above you. You were still smiling when Alastor’s thumb hooked around your leg, pressing into the cyst above your scent gland. More pain. A whimper in your throat that you could no longer suppress, the curve of your mouth a forced one. Alastor squeezed your hand tighter as he pushed, or perhaps you were squeezing his, and you felt movement in the gland, the inflamed tissue shifting as the blockage was pushed out. You sobbed once and it was gone, replaced by the sensation of pressure being released, Alastor’s tongue moving between your toes.

Alastor raised his mouth from your hoof, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he said, sweetly, and all of a sudden it was easy to smile again, his hand no longer in yours as he used both hands to handle and inspect your hoof. “Nearly done now.”

You peered at your hoof, the toes still splayed as Alastor massaged the cyst with his thumb. Your scent gland wept, oily yellow fluid spilling from it. It stank, an earthy, musky smell filling the room. Alastor could smell it- anything with a nose would be able to, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as Alastor kept your leg firmly in hand. He had probably tasted it, too.

“Guess I should rinse that off,” you said, your smile turning wry as you wrinkled your nose, trying to hide the mix of horror and shame that you felt.

“Absolutely not,” said Alastor firmly, lowering his head to your hoof and lapping at the mess with his tongue, his breath hot between your toes. Fuck. Your stomach tightened at the sight of it, the noise of his tongue almost obscene in the quiet of the bathroom. It was disgusting and erotic all at once, Alastor’s eyes fixing yours with a fervid intensity as he breathed in your scent, and you found yourself hard, the throbbing pain that you’d felt moments before receding to arousal like a curtain revealing a stage.

If Alastor noticed your state, he chose not to acknowledge it, instead teasing the last of your scent from your gland with his mouth and his thumb and planting a soft kiss over the abused tissue; one that was painful by most people’s definitions of pain, but from him it was almost romantic, his lips the barest pressure. You knew better than to raise the matter- that would make him tease you, at best, leave you aching and unfulfilled. What Alastor gave was on his own terms.

“Incomparable, as ever,” Alastor murmured, as if what he had eaten had been drizzled across a plate in a Michelin starred restaurant and not licked fresh from between your toes. “You will come to me for these things in future, hm?”

“Is that a request?” you asked, a rough edge to your voice.

“Given your reaction, I don’t think it’s too tall an order, do you?” Alastor flashed his teeth, flirtatious and sinister all at once.

#alastor x reader #lookalikeposting #antlerposting

[a-spectacular-pigeon]

"OOoOooOOoh, but using 'it/its' pronouns for Murderbot is dehumanising!!"

#Murderbot #The murderbot diaries #Some of y'all really show your whole asses with it/its characters #Even setting aside the fact that there are Actual Real Life people who use it/its pronouns #Refusing to use someone's stated pronouns because they “seem wrong” to you is uuuuuuuuuuuuuh #Asshole behaviour #And especially frustrating in this specific instance where half the fucking point of the story is that MURDERBOT IS NOT A HUMAN #It doesn't LIKE being humanised #It calls itself SecUnit specifically so people won't ignore what it is #If you don't want to rob people of their personhood stop trying to decide which pronouns they're allowed to use

[gravegroves]

Okay, little stream-of-consciousness-moment:

Billy, who's mind is like a steel trap, who isn't a scared little child, but a healthy, angry young adult. And the mindflayer doesn't even know what hit it. One second it's infiltrating grey matter, overtaking neural pathways and becoming one with this new vessel and the next second it's burning alive, it's crumbling and shrinking and screeching in agony as the human body does what is does best to foreign invaders: try to kill it.

I've always loved the posts on tumblr that explore how deeply weird humans would be to aliens. Our physiology, our mentality, when spoken of as animal traits they are all deeply disturbing. We're persistence predators. We're built to last. We can survive unimaginable horrors (and also die from the stupidest, most everyday things). Our main predator, is ourselves. A bite from a child can kill another human just from the bacteria alone if left untreated. Our bodies are designed to kill entities both within and without.

Humans are fucking terrifying.

So the mindflayer is so unprepared for an adult human who's been through too much shit already. Not just a tired little slip of a kid, but a healthy, entering-his-prime human and is eradicated with extreme prejudice by nothing more than a good immune system going into overdrive.

But it's too deeply imbeded, so the body again does what it can to protect itself, it encases it. Within the body, but separate. Calcified. Caged.

So here's Billy, who has a rather spotty memory of a car crash and feels like he has a head cold for a couple of days before he gets on with his life. Only weird shit keeps happening to him, now. Like that time he encounters a pack of dogs while out drinking by the quarry, except they look really fucked-up the closer they get, not like any dog Billy's ever seen before, and just as he's prepared for an attack from these things, they just walk up to him and sniff around a bit with their weird flower heads blooming and closing, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. And Billy's just this side of drunk where terrible ideas seem kinda brilliant and he tells the things to sit. And they do. Amazed, he tosses his beer bottle and tells them go fetch, and again, one does.

And then when it's time to go home Billy offhandedly tells them to get lost and they run off back into the woods, and when he wakes up in the morning it's easy to rationalise it away. Probably the beer had been rolling around in the car for too long and it went bad and fucked him up. Should just have thrown the whole sixpack out. Those were just regular dogs, for sure. Except the next day, when he's out behind the pool building trying to find a good spot to smoke, he steps onto soft soil or something and falls down into a weird ass tunnel and a bunch of those same monster dogs just appear out of nowhere and pile themselves on top of each other for him to be able to climb out. And a couple of days later when Neil smacks Billy around for being out late again, one of those dogs honest to God comes crashing through the living room window to shred Neil's leg up and leaves just as quickly at the first sign of panic from Billy.

And yeah okay, by this stage Billy's figuring out things are kinda fucky around Hawkins, and so it's just Billy having his own little side adventure in the background while the rest of the gang are running around Hawkins trying desperately to find the Mindflayer, not knowing that Billy unknowingly trapped it within himself and is just living his life, teaching these weirdly obedient alien dogs to do tricks because they keep helping him or seeking him out.

Anyway, upside down is doomed because their leader is literally trapped inside Billy and Billy is just teaching these dog-things to steal cigarettes from the gas station and volunteering for the closing shift at the pool because he can just get the dogs to bring the pool noodles back into the shed.

#don't know what this is #but it amuses me to think of season three as the gang running around hawkins and in the background of every scene #you just see Billy and the Demodogs doing their own thing #billy hargrove

[ozzgin]

Hope you’re doing well! Just read your monster writer fics. I love the idea, it’s so hilarious to imagine a monster having a human kink. Beat what if the reader is also an author? And author who writes monster fucking stories! I could just imagine them working together. Helping where the other is curious/lacking knowledge. They could write a companion series where one book is the monster’s pov and the other is human pov all for the same interaction. Oh! Or what if our little human is being hired to write a very intimate book about a different breed/species of monster, how would our writer monster respond/help? Just such a fun idea to play with!

In my attempt to connect some of the stories together, I came up with the idea that the Monster Author is a frequent guest at Monster Hotel. And Reader could be working at the hotel as a way to make money on the side, because their published books aren't quite at the same level of popularity yet.

Both write monster-human smut. They have no idea about each other. The Monster Author is a scattered airhead, too absorbed by his writing to notice anything around him. He is completely oblivious to the multiple fliers and brochures advertising a human employee. He leaves manuscripts and unfinished pages all over the room, which are then sorted and cleaned by Reader, but the handwriting is too atrocious to decipher. Reader has no idea what all that paper is about.

And then, it happens. The hotel hosts a small award ceremony for creative writing, featuring old-timers and promising newcomers. The two main winners for erotic romance are Monster Author and Reader.

"We'd like to congratulate our own (Y/N), for being not only an exemplary employee, but a talented writer as well", the manager announces.

The Monster Author is mildly curious about this mysterious hobby artist. Reader climbs onto the stage, and the dots finally connect. They stare in disbelief. To think they've been folding the sheets of their favorite writer. The ancient Beast returns their shocked look. An actual human? They had an actual human under his nose, this entire time?!

He immediately begins to devour Reader's books. Fascinating. This demands a collaboration. No, a permanent partnership. Reader must quit this silly job at once, there are ideas to be uncovered and stories to be created. He insists. He would be more than glad to help Reader elaborate on monster...particularities. He can even demonstrate it himself, if Reader would only allow it.

#monster author #monster hotel #monster x reader #monster x human