#no dumbass your body is knitting flesh together

[arsonforcharlie]

sup gamers, today we're doing the "realize that the reason you've been sleeping oddly deeply recently is because you're actually recovering from major surgery, dumbass" challenge

#my dumb thots #surgery mention #listen the airbnb has a REALLY NICE BED #but it's been noticeable since of course i had not been drinking or taking weed #so i wasn't sleeping for SHIT for the two weeks before surgery #but now i am down to sleep all night #and i just chalked it up to 'oh cool guess that's the magic of a real mattress' #no dumbass your body is knitting flesh together #how did i end up being such an absolute buffoon

[k3n-dyll]

On A High [Sevika Drabble]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

Masterlist | Divider Creds | Palestine Links!!

CW: 18+, wlw, not proofread, dom!Sevika x fem!reader, oral (S!recieving), drug usage (Shimmer), squirting

A/N: "You've written a drabble and a fic about Sevika fucking readers face and squirting all over it already!" Hey, maybe it's time to consider I'm projecting my desires onto you! Hope this helps! <3

Sevika, high on a more experimental dose of Shimmer, pushing you down to the floor of her office because she can't force herself to wait any longer. Her flesh hand is wrapped in a tight fist around your hair as she shoves your face into her pussy without much regard for your airway. Ever since she injected it, she's been heated, and taking down the dumbasses that had tried to smuggle a supply of the glowing purple liquid drug out of the factory to sell for themselves wasn't enough to calm her down.

She was just meant to be testing it out. It was a much smaller dose than she normally takes - barely half a vial, and yet she can still practically feel her own blood coursing at rapid speed through her veins. Each muscle in her body feels tense, the tips of her fingers are buzzing and it's all she can do to not start clawing at your scalp just to push your face harder against her dripping cunt, guttural grunts and moans escaping her throat through bared teeth

"C'mon baby, there you go....fuckin' take it, jus' like that" "Look so good strugglin' to breathe - fuck"

You try your absolute best to keep up with her, but her thrusts lack a true rhythm, her hips bucking back and forth against your tongue, which you eventually just leave flat and tense on the surface of your bottom lip. Deep down she knows she's probably hurting you a little, and she can hear how much of a struggle you're having in your attempts to take a full breath but she can't stop herself if she tried, and she knows how much you like being used.

"My little fuckin' toy, aren't you?" She taunts from above, her brows knit together in almost anger the longer it takes her to just fucking cum already. Though it hasn't been much longer than it normally takes, it feels like it's been an eternity to the point where she's on the brink of tears. The irritation only makes her go harder, sliding her cunt against you, forcing your nose to bump up so nicely against her puffy, impatient clit over and over again.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon, fuck, please"

Of course, the first time you hear the woman break down and beg for something is when she isn't even begging you. Instead, she's just begging her own body to let her get there. There's no sense of broken pride within her, no feeling of lost dignity, just the insatiable need to let go.

And when she does, it's fucking explosive.

Her thighs shake, then tense up hard on either side of your head, abs flexing, toes curling against the floor. She can barely keep herself upright, her wobbling forcing you to bring your hands up to her ass to help her stay in place. Sevika isn't normally a loud one but at the moment she can't help it, damn near whimpering in pure ecstasy as her juices squirt out all over your face in light bursts.

Sevika looks down at you, breathing still ragged and heavy and she just laughs watching the makeup run down your wet face. Her grip loosens around your hair and her irises transition back to their normal silver tint as she calms down, breathing out a sigh of utter relief as she feels her once tense and overwhelmed muscles relax.

Her body officially gives out, flopping down on her desk chair, taking a moment to gather herself before lazily patting her still twitching thigh.

"C'mere, let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

Wanted to put out more Arcane stuff since I feel like I've been more focused on my TLOU girlies lately

Reblogs are appreciated | Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut @sevsbaby, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery

#wlw #lesbian #☆drabbles #arcane smut #sevika arcane #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika smut #sevika x you

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Snowed In pt 3

here we are again. more cramped quarters quarantine inspired pining because i couldn’t stop if i wanted to

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: other than the anxiety there’s none that I know of. if there are plz tell me tho so I can tag it

Summary: Snowballs. Need I expand?

part 2 here

The thing about anxiety is it’s a sneaky beast, yelling and crying would send it away for only a few hours at a time. So when the hollowness in your chest and erratic heartbeat slowly crept back over the next few days, you weren’t entirely surprised. 

You were surprised by Geralt. He’d become more and more physical as the days went by. Just a hand at your back when he passed you on the staircase or leaning his knee against yours at the dinner table, but it was consistent and comforting. You did your best not to read into it, convincing yourself it was a matter of living in close quarters for such a long time. Still, when he brushed your hair over one shoulder to fasten your blouse, you nearly shivered, praying to any god that would listen that he wasn’t paying attention to the goose-flesh in the wake of his touch. On night twenty-six, you felt him brush the stray hairs from your face when he thought you were asleep and cursed your heart for skipping a beat. 

In the morning, you woke with your back pressed against Geralt's. You were doing your best to convince yourself it was merely due to the dip in the mattress, not your body craving his touch. 

When you didn’t get up with him, he sat back down next to you and nudged your shoulder as if checking that you were awake.

“Hm?”

“You gonna get up today?” His tone was almost casual, just not enough to fool you.

You sighed, rolling onto your back to face him, “Doesn't seem likely.” 

He nodded, “Jaskier is a dumbass, but even he wouldn’t try the pass.”

You gave him a weak smile, patting his knee. Geralt had been attempting to be more reassuring as well. His words were a little rough around the edges, but they melted you nonetheless. It was terrifying, knowing you were tumbling into that void of infatuation without any way to stop your fall.

Geralt gripped your wrist like you were shaking on a business deal and hauled you into a sitting position, “At least come down to breakfast. Smells like porridge."

“You're a natural salesman." You teased, shuffling to the end of the bed where your pack was unceremoniously thrown on the ground.

Nothing was said at breakfast, but you let yourself sit a fraction of an inch closer than usual, the sleeves of your shirt brushing his as you ate, almost amused at how something so ridiculous felt like an indulgence. You didn't want to know if this thing between you two was just proximity and human nature taking its toll or if there might actually be something. So your only course of action would be to outwardly pretend there was nothing.

With a full stomach, you felt a little less hollow, and being upright for so long had given you enough momentum to follow Geralt out to the barn after breakfast. 

The snow was just over waist high on either side of the path that staff had shoveled to the barn. You skimmed your fingers over the little cliffs, watching the powder float away in the breeze. The cold was refreshing compared to the stuffy heat of all those bodies in the dining hall. Every breath of pine and what could only be described as after-snow-smell was helping to organize your thoughts.

"Don't you dare." Geralt warned, turning to face you with crossed arms. 

"Dare what?" You asked, crossing your own arms in natural defiance. 

"Snowballs." He answered as he nodded to the trail your fingers had left in the snow. 

You smirked, rocking to your other hip with an air of superiority, "I wasn't gonna." 

He pressed his lips into a thin line before turning on his heel to shove open the sliding barn door. 

The idea was just too inviting, and you could use a good laugh about now.

While the door was squeaking so he wouldn't hear it, you scooped up a chunk of snow and hucked it at him as hard as you could. It hit him right between his shoulder blades, sticking in his hair and turning the greyish blue of his tunic a navy hue. You stifled a laugh and slowly backed up a couple places, anticipating the retaliation.

He froze in place and for a moment you wondered if he even felt it. Before you could hope to duck out of the way he spun around and swiped at the bank of snow next to him, sending chunks and powdery snow flying into your face. 

You yelped, not bringing your arms up to shield yourself fast enough. Blinking away the melting crystals, you dove for the other side of the bank and packed a quick and lumpy ball together, hurling it in Geralt's direction without even bothering to aim. He sidestepped it easily and flung his own snowball, hitting you square in the chest. 

"Shit! That's cold!" You gasped, shaking the front of your blouse with one hand while you tried to form something worth throwing with the other. 

He beat you to the punch, sending another clump of snow your way, getting you in the hip. 

"I told you not to start." He chided, already leaning over the bank to reload. 

You saw your opportunity and took it without thinking. While he was leaning down and off-balance you lunged across the few feet between you and tackled him into the drift. 

Geralt went down like a sack of flour, swearing as he fell. 

You shreiked with laughter, landing half on top of him a good two feet deep into the snow, "Not so cocky now, huh?" 

He rolled back and simply pulled more snow on top of you, effectively burying your torso and thighs. The smug look on his face was downright infuriating and incredibly attractive.

You froze for a moment, before mimicking him, only burying his head and shoulders to give yourself time to plaster on your poker face. 

"Not fair! No faces." Geralt sputtered, wiping the snow out of his eyes.

"You got me in the face first!" You argued, scrambling to get up. 

He was too quick for you, though. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into him as he rolled to quite literally toss you in an untouched bank of snow a few feet away. 

You squealed, telling yourself it was just the shock of being airborne that had your gut twisting like that. 

Geralt popped his head over the bank, brows knit together and cheeks flushed from the cold. Relief washed over his face and he gave you one of those rare goofy smiles he flashed once or twice a month, "You went farther than I thought. Oops."

You couldn't help but laugh, flicking a bit of snow in his direction. He stood and trudged through the snow to you, offering you a hand up. You pulled yourself to stand, having to grab his other shoulder to steady yourself when you went past vertical. 

You almost leaned into his hold, almost pulled him close and buried your head in his chest like you wanted to; like you weren't just a friend. Almost.

You brushed the snow off your clothes to busy your hands, tearing your eyes away from his, "Farther than you thought? Is that a fat joke?" 

He scoffed, kicking his way through the snow and making a path for the two of you, "Fuck off." 

You hurried after him, "I'm kidding." You insisted, glad it was cold enough to blame the blush of your cheeks on something other than him. 

You fed the horses quickly, not bothering to take the time you usually would inspecting their hocks and feeling for any hot spots. It was too damn cold now that the snow had melted through your clothing. You were shivering by the time you locked Beau's stall door behind you. 

Geralt was waiting for you and frowned when he noticed your hands shaking over the latch. He didn't say a word, but fell into step next to you and snaked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walked. You wrapped both your arms around his waist, stealing as much of his ridiculously high body heat as you could. The chill took any last shred of shame you had left as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

"Next time I'll dress warmer." You muttered, the awkward angle making it harder to walk, but the warmth was ever so worth it. 

"Or don't pick a snow fight?" He offered, gently squeezing your shoulder and pushing the door open with his other hand. 

"I really wasn't thinking about it till you said something." 

The humm he gave you in response told you he didn't believe you.

_________

Part 4 here!

#Geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fan fic #the witcher one shot #geralt one shot #wait a minute this cant be considered a one shot anymore can it #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fan fic #geralt x reader fic #goofy geralt #soft geralt #two of my favorite geralts #im too lazy to tag anything else

[vannahfanfics]

Quiet Strength

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Ochako Uraraka

Greetings, all~! Here is my next entry for the @bnhabookclub​’s Bingo Event, for the prompt “First Aid”! Kacchako stans, come get y’all food! \^u^/

Thundering howls of laughter rumbled from Katsuki’s throat as his gauntleted fist crashed through the solid boulder, sending pebbles and baseball-sized rocks sailing in every direction. Steam billowed from the magma seeping from the ultra-hot stone he had essentially liquified with the power of his explosion; the wispy white smoke kissed his sweaty, flushed face and tickled his tousled blonde locks before disappearing into the air. He yanked his fist from the crumbled rock, flexing his fingers experimentally, and hissed at the stinging pain that bloomed across his palm.

What had been the flame-retardant leather devised by the Support Course was now nothing more than a few tattered scraps barely clinging together. Dammit. Now I’ll have to submit for an upgrade. Who knows how long that crap’ll take? He scowled and shook his hand in the air. The bright pink skin wailed at the contact with the rushing wind, sending tendrils of fiery pain jolting up his arm and even into the junction of his shoulder. Katsuki ignored the sharp tingle, stepping over the destroyed piles of rocks to pick his way back down the slope to the floor of the gym.

“Wow, Bakugo!” Eijirou’s ruby eyes glittered in admiration. “You made short work of those boulders! Even in Unbreakable Mode, it took me a few hits!”

“Of course I did, dumbass,” Katsuki snorted and snatched his water bottle from the floor. He winced; in his lack of thought, he had grabbed the plastic container with his dominant hand- the burned one. The condensation littering the cold surface seeped into the singed flesh, making the raw meat there scream in agony. Katsuki only clenched his teeth and sucked down the water, then tossed the now-empty bottle into the garbage can in the corner.

“All right. You all have been at it for two hours,” Mr. Aizawa frowned while glancing at the screen of his smartphone. The gym echoed with exhausted gasps and reeked with the stench of exertion. “You’re done for the day.” Katsuki flexed his hand again, scowling as the pain rocketed through his nerves once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck!” Katsuki exclaimed as the water cascaded down onto his wounded palm. He hadn’t anticipated the burn would be so severe. The skin over his fingers and palm bubbled up in several blisters, already filled with fluid though it hadn’t been thirty minutes. The water, though only lukewarm, felt like lava streaming over the injured skin. Katsuki fumbled to wash his body and hair with his non-dominant hand, keeping the burning flesh well away from the shower’s thundering stream. He didn’t even use it to towel himself dry.

“God damn son of a bitch,” he grumbled under his breath as he clumsily fumbled into his sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Why couldn’t it have been his other hand? “Fuckfuckfuck!” he cried as he lost his balance and began hopping around on one foot, his leg half-caught in the thick fabric of the sweats. An angry roar burst from his throat as he slipped in a small puddle of water and fell hard right on his rump. His tailbone wailed protest, spasming the muscles in his lower back, and he unleashed every curse in the dictionary and then some as he writhed on the damp bathroom floor. The skin of his palm pulsed with its own heartbeat, sending fireworks of pain up his arm with every drum. “Fuck me.”

Somehow, he managed to get his clothes on, finally. However, now on top of the burn, his lower back was aching something terrible. He limped into the common room, ignoring the content chattering of his classmates on the sofas to instead hobble into the kitchen. He winced at the stretch as he reached up to begin rifling through cabinets for painkillers and burn cream. He was too invested in his search to see Ochako meander into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk.

“Oh, Katsuki!”

“Jesus Christ-! Fuck, shit, fuck, damn it, ahh!” he cursed as he jumped and slammed his burned palm on the underside of the counter. Holding his wrist, he leaned over the granite and wheezed out an exaggerated whine. “What?!” he snarled as the girl scampered over to him.

“Your hand! How did you get such a terrible burn?!” Katsuki ignored the question. Ochako’s brown eyebrows knitted together as she inspected the bubbly flesh of his palm and the clear, sticky liquid oozing from the blister that had just burst. Katsuki clicked his tongue at her simpering piteous expression.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that. I’m fine,” he huffed. He glanced into the cabinet and found that he had been groping around the Silvadene cream the entire time. With a snort, he plucked it from the cabinet and struggled to open it one-handed.

“L-let me!” Ochako insisted and snatched the short, squat bottle of medicine from him. Katsuki turned around to rest his back against the counter, watching with critical red eyes as she quickly removed the lid.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Uraraka.”

“No, you didn’t, but you’re getting it anyway,” she responded coolly, making the corner of his mouth twitch. She slathered a healthy chunk of the goopy liquid onto her first two fingers before gesturing with her chin. “Open up your hand and spread out your fingers.” Though he loathed the fact that he required aid, refusing her now wasn’t worth the energy. Silently, he did as bid. His shoulders twinged with the flexion of his burned fingers. Ochako slopped the bright white cream onto the middle of his palm, and he melted into the countertop with a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed. Ochako smiled sweetly and began spreading the paste across his palm and up onto the undersides of his fingers. A cooling numb spread over the inflamed cells, quieting the piercing pain that had been pulsing in his hand since training had ended. He watched her careful motions with lidded eyes.

“You should be careful, you know,” she chastised him gently. “Even you have your limits. I know you want to get stronger, but nothing will come of pushing yourself to the point that it’s destructive.” Katsuki clicked his teeth at her, cocking his head to the side in a vain gesture. Ochako only smiled and applied a second layer of burn cream to his hand.

“You’re one to talk, Cheeks. What was that whole business with tryin’ to drop the stadium on my head, ah?” The Sports Festival had been months ago, but Katsuki still remembered their fight vividly. The way her body wobbled and sagged to the side, how she struggled with trembling arms to even bear her own weight, the glaze in her chestnut eyes as she struggled to keep her consciousness… His eyelashes fluttered to banish the illusion of the scene as she spoke.

“I have the authority to speak on it because I’ve been there,” she sighed. She stopped her ministrations to hold Katsuki’s hand up with both her own, Silvadene-coated fingertips smearing the medicine over the top of his hand. “Sometimes… everyone else just seems so great in comparison that it feels like I’ll never catch up. In that fight, I was so desperate to prove that I belong here… but it was destructive. I will grow stronger, but with time and effort, not with leaps and bounds born from destroying my body.” Katsuki’s eyes widened as he looked at her. The truth rang hollowly in him. Begrudged as he was to admit it, she was totally right. She smiled warmly up at him and then flicked him in the forehead.

“Hey,” he warned, and she giggled cutely.

“I don’t need another Deku on my hands! It’s bad enough that he’s broken half the bones in his body before the age of sixteen!” She exhaled deeply and retrieved a swathe of bandages. She unpinned the tan, thick fabric, then gently began rolling it around the palm of his hand. “You’ll get stronger, and I will too. We just both need time.” Katsuki frowned and looked away from her, debating whether or not to acknowledge the fact that she was right out loud.

“… All right, all right, I get your point,” Katsuki admitted after several seconds of silence. Ochako pinned the bandages with a small safety clasp and lowered her hands. The fabric was cumbersome around his hand and wrist, and he couldn’t even close his fist entirely. Still, the pain had been reduced to a dull ache that he could easily ignore with distraction. “Hey,” he said as she turned to retrieve her glass of milk, which still lay untouched on the countertop. When she looked back at him with an inquiring look, he blushed and pawed at his gym shorts, not really sure why he had stopped her.

“I, ugh… Thanks,” Katsuki fumbled and raised his bandaged hand. Ochako blinked at him, taking a moment to realize his gesture of gratitude, before smiling sweetly. Before she could respond, he abruptly grabbed her by the head and pulled her into his chest. She squeaked his name with her hands flapping about, not sure where she should place them.

“Hey,” he said softly. Ochako relaxed, and her hands drifted down to rest on his biceps. “You be careful, too. You think I’m stupid? I see you walking home every day wobbling like a drunk, and you threw up four fucking times at training today.” He felt heat bloom across his pectorals as her face heated up. He dropped his mouth against her hair, inhaling her scent of vanilla shampoo. “You be careful, too, dumbass. Who else is gonna take care of me when I go too far?”

“Hehe, okay,” she acknowledged with an eager nod. She pulled away from Katsuki to beam up at him with those big brown eyes that made his heart melt. Snorting at his sappiness, he lightly pushed her away, but the gesture was laced with affection. “Drink your milk, Cheeks. I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Aw! But we’re playing charades tonight!”

“Now I’m definitely goin’ to bed.” As he whirled on his heel, Ochako scampered up to hug his arm and bat her eyelashes pleadingly at him. Katsuki grimaced, but she grinned victoriously as a rosy haze spread over his cheeks.

“Please, Bakugo? Just a few rounds! You should see Kaminari’s impression of a crab; it’s too funny!”

“Agh, whatever, as long as you stop climbin’ all over me like a spider monkey!” he cried and shook his arm emphatically. She stubbornly clung to him like glue, cackling mischievously. “Come on! Let go!” he whined and pushed on her head. Finally, she relented, releasing him from her grip. “Bah, what am I going to do with you?” he growled and ran a hand through his ash-blond hair.

“Aw, Bakugo, don’t pretend you don’t like me!” she said coyly and stuck out her tongue. She gasped in dismay when he snatched up her glass of milk and drained it to the last drop. “Hey! That was mine!” she pouted and snatched the empty glass from him. Katsuki sneered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glittering playfully.

“That’s what you get for messin’ with me, Cheeks.”

“Ya big meanie!” she snorted, then smiled and nudged him in the ribs. She retrieved the gallon jug from the refrigerator and poured herself another, then skipped to the entryway. “Come on, let’s go!” she insisted and tugged the band of his watch. He allowed her to pull him along by jerking on the device. She smiled radiantly when they entered the common room, greeting their classmates and excitedly scampering over to the sofas to begin the game of charades. Bakugo leaned against the back of the couch, watching her with a tiny smile.

In his mind, Ochako really didn’t need to get stronger. She was plenty strong, but it was not the strength of a physical kind. It was a quiet strength of care and passion. Plenty strong for a reckless dumbass like me, he smirked in amusement. As she clapped happily to Eijirou’s comical rendition of a koala, she caught his eye and smiled warmly.

Plenty strong. Nothin’ frail about her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List:  @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​ @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​

#bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub event #bnhabookclub bingo event #kacchako #bakugo x uraraka #uraraka x bakugo #ochako x katsuki #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

[theradioghost]

hey, can i pester you for some podcast recs? something with a good dose of humour and not too many episodes to catch up on. a sprinkle of queer romance would be a nice bonus. my fave so far is tsco starship iris, and i also loved greater boston, wooden overcoats, the bright sessions and caravan. and thanks always for all your great recs! you’ve brought many hours of joy into my life :)

We Fix Space Junk -- Two intergalactic repairpeople -- a knowledgeable cyborg veteran and a former socialite on the run -- travel the universe meeting people and fixing things at the behest of the terrifying intergalactic corporation they’re trying to work off their debts to. Hilarious British sci-fi sitcom featuring Evil Space Capitalism, many many wonderful AI characters, and an absolutely delightful teenage space wasp-human-cow hybrid princess who is probably off accomplishing her grandiose special destiny somewhere offscreen while the main characters deal with things like their bosses possibly trying to kill them (again).

Death by Dying -- People have a tendency to die in odd ways in the small town of Crestfall, Idaho. Luckily the town also has an Obituary Writer, an eccentric and nameless but impeccably stylish fellow whose closest friend is the Angel of Death, and who has a knack for solving murders even though that’s definitely not his job description. Throw in walrus haikus, extremely rude ravens, Something Mysterious And Malevolent Lurking In The Dark Woods Outside Of Town, disappearing childhood homes, silent nuns, ghost bicycles, and three man-eating cats, and you get something like a delightful cross between Wooden Overcoats and Lemony Snicket. (Also, OW is peak Canonically Bisexual Dumbass.)

Less is Morgue -- Riley is a paranoid, reclusive teenager with a fondness for conspiracy theories who lives in their parents’ basement. They’re also a predatory ghoul who feeds on human flesh. Evelyn is a cheerful, outgoing young woman with questionable tastes in media. She’s also a ghost, ever since she was killed by a falling stage light at a Nickelback concert 16 years ago. And since Riley dug up and ate Evelyn’s corpse, they’re roommates! Will they ever manage to record a coherent episode of their podcast without something going ridiculously wrong and/or Riley eating one of the guests? Probably not!

Victoriocity -- The steampunk buddy-cop comedy-mystery thriller you never knew you needed but definitely do! Featuring Inspector Fleet, a grouchy, extremely driven policeman looking for the murderer of the Empire’s greatest inventor, and Clara Entwhistle, an even more driven and unfailingly upbeat rookie journalist who has just arrived in the island-spanning, bizarre cityscape of alt-history Even Greater London. Come for some of my favorite sarcastic British narration since Adams and Pratchett, stay for characters-are-begrudgingly-forced-to-work-together-until-they-come-to-genuinely-and-deeply-care-about-one-another-as-friends trope. (Also for Tom “Eric Chapman” Crowley as the aforementioned grumpy detective.)

Quid Pro Euro -- From one of the other leads of Wooden Overcoats, this doesn’t have a typical plot as such but has made me laugh so hard I pulled a muscle despite the fact that I know nothing about the EU. Which is what this near-surreal, Look Around You-style comedy is about: Felix Trench’s vision of a simultaneously hilarious and terrifying alternate European Union, seen from the perspective of a serious of educational tapes from the ‘90s predicting what the EU would look like in the 21st century. It’s hard to describe this show in any way that does it justice, but it’s incredibly funny.

Time:Bombs -- A miniseries by the exalted creators of Wolf 359, which (because they are madmen) was written, recorded, and produced in the space of one week. Also, a comedy about an NYC bomb retrieval squad on New Year’s Eve, most of whom are just trying to get through the night while their leader attempts to break a record for most bombs cleared before the calendar ticks over. Chaos and hilarity ensure.

Superstition -- Wisecracking, bi, Jewish, definitely-a-private-eye-just-don’t-check-her-qualifications Jacqueline St. James receives a message from her father, which is weird, because her parents disappeared years ago. Following the trail leads Jack to Superstition, Arizona, a town in the middle of the desert where everyone’s got secrets, assorted ghosts/monsters/cryptids harrass the locals, and the missing persons rate is the highest in the nation. As a protagonist Jack is Looking For Trouble And If She Cannot Find It She Will Create It, so while Superstition isn’t a comedy per se, it’s got a fair share of laughs and is also just so, so excellent in general.

Standard Docking Procedure -- A self-declared hopepunk scifi workplace comedy about the somewhat dysfunctional staff of Pseudopolis Station, effectively a high-tech interstellar truck stop. It’s funny and heartwarming, nothing truly bad happens, and Julia Schifini is there.

Solutions to Problems -- A morally-questionable human named Janet who has defintely never done any illegal time travel and an easygoing, physically indescribably alien who likes to go by Loaf host an intergalactic advice podcast. Are you tired of your species’ insistence on solving everything via ritual combat? Not sure how to talk to your partner about whether body-swapping has a place in your sex life? Dealing with being a superpowered teenager summoned into being by the collective will of an apocalyptic groupthink cult? Janet and Loaf have you covered! Provided that Janet’s on-and-off girlfriend, the AI who supplies the air they breathe, doesn’t kill them all first. Oddly heartfelt comedy in the form of a relationship advice radio show from the Space Future.

Middle:Below -- This show’s tagline is “Remember: bad things WILL happen,” and that is basically a lie. This is actually a short, incredibly heartwarming and frequently funny show about Taylor Quinn, the only human with the ability to pass between the land of the living (aka the Middle) and the land of ghosts (the Below). Meaning, of course, that the dead call on him to fix all their problems, with the help of a girl named Heather, a ghost named Gil, and a cat named Sans. (Also, some of the most comparatively wild live shows I’ve ever heard.)

Inn Between -- Ever wonder what fantasy characters get up to between adventures, during all that time they seem to spend at inns? This show skips all the adventuring, question, and action, instead focusing on the quiet moments between where what is Definitely Not A D&D Party meet and progress from bickering strangers brought together by circumstance to close-knit found family -- all at the inn, of course. (Lots of queer folks in here also, although there’s no romance at least in the first  couple seasons.)

The Godshead Incidental -- A relatively new but very exciting and so far really enjoyable show!! Following a young woman who writes an advice column through her life in a familiar, and yet strange city where anyone might be a minor god -- your editor, your landlord, that weird guy on the street who was shouting about how he’s the God of Memory and you got into a fight with him and now you keep forgetting everything? Also, your apartment is full of pigeons now because you found out the aforementioned landlord is secretly the god of doorknobs and he’s panicking. Good luck! (Starring Ishani Kanetkar, aka Arkady from Starship Iris!)

Gal Pals Present: Overkill -- Madison, a middle schooler at a Girl Scout camp, agrees to play a game with a somewhat tastelessly bright-pink Ouija board. However, Madison doesn’t know that she’s a natural medium, and now sarcastic mid-2000s 19-year-old Aya Velasquez has joined the many ghosts who are for some reason haunting scenic Harding Park. Aya, however, will not rest until she can solve her own murder (and possibly get to know that other ghost girl a bit better, who says romance has to stop when you’re dead?). Absolutely hilarious writing of a narrator who is almost definitely wearing spectral Uggs during the entire show.

Dark Ages -- The Rivercliffe Museum of Mostly Natural History is one of the finest museums anywhere! Or it would be, if anyone ever actually visited it. Or maybe if the staff weren’t a disastrous and dysfunctional collection of criminals, weirdos, wannabe immortals, idiot bisexuals who can’t just admit they like each other, and one extremely uptight elf with no people skills. Also, it would probably help if the legendary and fearsome Dark Lord, finally returned from his millennia of dormancy to complete his prophesied conquest of the world, wasn’t hanging around watching the chaos unfold because they’ve got his crown on display. (Fantasy workplace comedy with a theme song that did not need to go that hard?)

Brimstone Valley Mall -- It’s mid-December 1999, and at one mall in South Central Pennsylvania, a group of demons are going about their evil work -- namely, working at various dinky kiosks and restaurants, hoping of achieving every demon’s dream of getting to work at Hot Topic, trying not to do too much evil because Earth is way more fun than Hell and no one wants to get promoted back home, and preparing for their band's triumphant opening performance at the upcoming Y2K party. Just one problem: their lead singer is missing. Another absolute masterwork from The Whisperforge.

Arden -- 10 years ago, Hollywood starlet Julie Capsom vanished into the woods of northern California, leaving behind a car containing a human torso that may or may not have belonged to one Ralph Montgomery. Now, private eye Brenda Bentley and reporter Bea Casely, both of whom were among the first at the scene and both of whom have their own very strong opinions on the case, are setting out to solve the mystery on their true crime podcast, Arden. Providing, of course, they can stop arguing with each other long enough to solve it. (Or, a not-really-parody-but-definitely-comedy “true crime” podcast where the crime is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet -- and even knowing that, it’s still a genuine mystery with twists and a surprise ending! -- and the hosts are wlw Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing. In other words, it’s perfect. Season 2 is upcoming soon and is adapting Hamlet!!)

Alba Salix/The Axe and Crown -- Another high fantasy workplace sitcom, this one a medical comedy about the titular not-very-personable witch who runs the kingdom’s House of Healing and the various shenanigans she gets into, between her somewhat scatterbrained sister and brother-in-law the king and queen and her assistants, an overly-whimsical fairy and a wannabe monk forced to do community service. The same feed contains The Axe and Crown, a spinoff set in the same world that manages to simultaneously be a sitcom about the staff of a local pub trying to stave off foreclosure and come up with schemes to beat their business rivals, and a heartfelt story about gentrification and recovery starring a gay veteran with PTSD? Which is possibly one of my favorite podcasts? (Also contains one of the most unbelievable crossover cameos possible: Leon Stamatis.)

The Adventures of Sir Rodney the Root -- Also a high fantasy comedy! When a witch transforms heroic Sir Rodney into a small piece of wood, his closest companion Sir Gilbert must set out to cure him by collecting several highly powerful and dangerous relics, accompanied by a snarky dwarfen thief, an imperious princess, a slightly creepy human child raised by fairies, a picky elf sorcerer, a dead unicorn possessed by the ghost of a stoner, and a bard who breaks the fourth wall too much for his own good. So far as I can tell, nobody is straight.

The Amelia Project -- A dark comedy about a secret organization that helps people fake their deaths. Which is honestly a pretty full summary, barring the two important points that 1. this show contains possibly the most continuity-warping crossover event of all time (it’s the center point of this absolutely chaotic diagram), and 2. in one episode Felix Trench plays a character named Bartholomew Fuckface Chucklepants Knucklecracker.

#podcast recs #bobbie recommends things #yujacha #asks #my posts

[hugs-not-anonymous]

LFC - Jasculs Freemoon

The Basics --- - 

Full name: Jasculs Freemoon. Nickname(s): Jackie, Jas, Jasc, stubborn oaf, big ol’ pumpkin, Mat, Mattie, dreamboy, moony. Title(s): Self-proclaimed bodyguard-dad. Former Slayer and Commander. Champion and Hero, though he usually doesn’t respond to them. Alias(es): Mateth/Mateus Dawndream. Age: About 12.000 years. Birthday: February 9th. Race: Green/Emerald Dragon. Disguises himself as a half-dragon-like kaldorei or sin’dorei. If necessary, he can disguise himself fully as either, too. He prefers his kaldorei form. Gender & pronouns: Male, he/him.  Sexuality: Homoromantic, bisexual. Marital Status: Married. 

Physical Appearance --- - 

Hair: Purple so dark it appears black. Long, soft, and incredibly curly, though it's kept in a braid most of the time to keep it from becoming too much of a ridiculous, unruly mess. Jasculs also adorns a full, neatly kept and trimmed beard.  Eyes: Unlike most demon hunters, Jasculs still has his eyes, although they're blind and tinted deeply with fel, both of the eyeballs sickeningly green.  Height: 262 cm/8'7" in kaldorei form, 210.8 cm/6′11″ in sin’dorei form and too tall for my brain to comprehend in dragon form.  Weight: 160 kg/353 lbs in kaldorei form, 128.6 kg/283.51 lbs in sin’dorei form and yet again too heavy in dragon form for my feeble human brain to make realistic.  Build: Muscular mountain with slight pudge around the stomach area.  Scars:

A small, y-shaped, faded scar between his eyebrows.

Scars from Naroua's teeth just above his left elbow.

One in the shape of the North star on his abdomen. It has one long line up the torso, another long one down, and two smaller ones to the left and right of the center. There is a tear in his wing on the other side of the scar.

His palms, soles of his feet, and back are littered with faint scars from burn marks

Several faded marks and slashes from older fights.

A jagged, disconcertingly huge line on his chest from being impaled by a pitlord’s polearm. Don’t think about the fact it’s directly above his heart.

His back is a nightmare of whip scars. Before them, there were other scars, but they cover up any and all flesh and skin of Jasculs’ back. If it weren’t for them he’d walk around shirtless.

Claw marks above, below, and in his eyes.

Tattoos:

The arcane tattoos of the Illidari, Emerald Nightmare-red variant. They’re mostly centered around his chest and shoulder-blades, though they run down his arms as well. They’re slightly faded and need a touch-up.

One that goes from his ankle and up his shin, picturing several rose-bush branches with thorns and flowers. 

A pitch-black tattoo of a world-tree starting just above the tail bone and swiveling up the length of his back.

Piercings: He used to have many but now all the holes except for one in each earlobe has grown together. Jasculs rarely ever actually wears piercings, though. Distinguished Traits: His resting bitch face, awkward stuttering and babbling, and small, unthreatening, stubby horns.  Common Accessories:

A small leather pouch at his hip, containing various personally valuable items as well as a needle, thread, and a small bottle of disinfectant

Clean bandages around his forearms. Cliché but incredibly handy.

A blindfold made out of said bandages.

Two enchanted bracelets. They're made out of a simple, black leather, rolled up to create firm but strong threads. In the middle of each thread is a single, purple-ish pearl. When tapping them twice with two fingers or speaking the keyword - “Rakeesh”, butcher in Eredun - they transform back into their original form: one-handed swords. 

A simple ring with engraved runes. In elven form it's on his left hand ring finger and in dragon form it's on one of his horns. 

Personal --- - 

Profession(s): Professional squishy dumbass. Dad of the year. Butting into every fight where someone seems/might be overwhelmed. Sells leather, meat, fish, and other wares he compiles from skinning and fishing as well as doing various odd-jobs. Once upon a time he was a war-machine/tank for the Illidari, and you can probably still get him to be your bodyguard if for the right cause. Occasional adventurer/champion, if the cause is worth it. Hobbie(s): Cooking, gardening, napping, and reading. He’s trying to pick of knitting but, uh. It’s not going that well. Language(s): Fluent in Draconic, Thalassian, and Darnassian; almost fluent but heavily accented Common, Dwarven, Taur-ahe, and Zandali; can speak and somewhat read Orcish, Pandaren, and Draenei; can understand and speak (although with broken grammar) Eredun, Kalimag, and Nathrezim but not write or read any of them; can read, write, and somewhat brokenly understand Shath’Yar and Nazjar but pronunciation is beyond him. Skill(s): Cooking, skinning, fishing, and leatherworking; wielding glaives, one-handed swords, one-handed axes, and polearms; using bows for hunting; enhancing his own body with traits from his bound demon and various offensive, defensive, and supportive Fel spells; disguising his own form and other people's forms by use of various Fel spells. Once upon a time he could do it with nature and arcane magic as well but now it gets turned into Fel; being a bit of a dumbass; emotional socialising and creating safe spaces for people.  Residence: An unmapped mountainside in Stormheim. Birthplace: The Emerald Dream.  Religion: Elune.  Patron Deity: Elune, Ysera.  Fears:

His most intense fear is no doubt his claustrophobia, as it is so bad it can and will cause panic attacks if he cannot move freely at all times.

Losing and failing to protect his family.

Losing himself to the Nightmare or the Eredar Conqueror he's bound with.

Being forced away from his family.

Being captured by the Alliance or the Horde. Honestly, just being captured in general.

Facing the Illidari and their leaders.

Jasculs also has a never-ending paranoia that he's being watched and in danger. 

Waking up a different place than where he went to sleep.

Relationships --- - 

Spouse: Sol'alore Firewing Freemoon aka Solastrasz, belonging to @frostwyrmsfury. Children:

Kinagosa (adopted, alive), belonging to @frostwyrmsfury​.

Egg (adopted, unhatched, and fragile), co-owned with @frostwyrmsfury​.

Parents: 

Werythra Dawndream (mom, alive).

Inazeus (father, deceased).

O'Thelo Dawndream (step-dad, deceased).

Siblings: 

Andiais Dawndream (step-sister, alive but it’s complicated), belonging to @frostwyrmsfury.

Phene Dawndream (step-sibling, alive. It’s less complicated).

Livatus Dawndream (half-sibling on his mom's side, deceased).

A few half-siblings on his father's side.

Other Relatives: 

Quite a few aunts, uncles and cousins, though he has managed to keep in contact with exactly zero of them.

Feenris Duskblade (not blood related. Considers her an aunt).

Pets:

A manawyrm named Boomlio, proudly named by Kina.

A felsaber named Sæunn. She’s named after a Thorignir whose help during the 3rd Legion invasion Jasculs will always be eternally grateful for and was a gift from Illidan.

 An injured hippogryph named Thyri. 

Traits --- -

Extroverted / Introverted / In between /: Jasculs is not introverted, per se, he simply mostly keeps to his own devices. He is honestly quite extroverted, just reserved due to paranoia. 

Disorganised / Organised / In between /: He's a bit of a neat freak and loves when things are organised well and are in order, yet still manages to misplace everything and accidentally make a mess. Besides, having been out in the wild for most of his life, his general idea of "organised" is… cluttered. 

Close Minded / Open Minded / In between /: No comment here. 

Calm / Anxious / In between /: In crowds and populated areas, the back of Jasculs' mind is in a constant state of paranoia. However, he's gotten exceptionally good at handling it, and now he's usually the mildly anxious but level-headed and clear thinking one. 

Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between /: Jasculs does his best to avoid conflict and will often agree just to avoid arguing. 

Cautious / Reckless / In between /: Well, until his intelligence fails him. Jasculs is a dumbass and often gets himself into trouble on accident. He's also surrounded with troublemakers and people of varying degree of reckless, and he has to do equally or more reckless things to keep them out of danger. 

Patient / Impatient / In between /: No comment. 

Outspoken / Reserved / In between /: This entirely depends on who he's with and how comfortable he is with them. 

Leader / Follower / In between /: Weird for a Slayer, yes, but, well, he never lead anyone. He never had a say in anything and most definitely did not have a choice; he just did as he was told.

Empathetic / Apathetic / In between /: Jasculs is super emotionally charged. His emotions don't control him or make him vulnerable at all, it's simply how he lives, how he likes to live. It makes him feel fulfilled and alive and not monstrous. He's very understanding of emotions, both his own and other's, and overall have an emotionally freeing feeling about him. 

Optimistic / Pessimistic / In between /: Jasculs in neither an optimist or a pessimist, honestly. He's a realist. 

Traditional / Modern / In between /: He likes family traditions but is overall very adaptive to his surroundings and the times. There are traditional things he misses but just as many modern things he's happy have replaced traditional things. 

Hard-working / Lazy / In between /: Though Jasculs loves relaxing, he's in no way lazy. He doesn't really believe in lazy. 

Cultured / Uncultured / In between /: Over the years, Jasculs has accumulated many cultural influences, but he's never quite gotten properly cultured with any civilization. Even cultural things from the green dragons or the kaldorei tend to elude him. 

Loyal / Disloyal / In between /: No comment. 

Faithful / Unfaithful / In between /: Faith is a very conflicting topic to Jasculs. He still prays to and believes in Elune but not like he used to. There's a seething doubt in his mind about whether Elune really cares or not, and if praying to her even matters, but he tries not to listen to it. Having faith in humanity, elven kind, and all other races of Azeroth is also becoming difficult. He says he's sure they'll see their mistakes of their ways and come together to save Azeroth but he doesn't really believe it anymore. 

Assertive / Timid / In between /: Though he's not scared to assert dominance and scare away anyone who attempts to hurt himself or anyone he cares about, Jasculs is all around a rather timid and soft person. It often makes him sad that many find him scary, to which he'll whine like a hurt puppy. 

Additional Information --- - 

Smoking: Doesn't keep cigarettes on him but won't decline if he's offered one.  Alcohol: Rarely, if ever.  Drugs: He's quite too old for that.  Triggers:

Not being able to move freely and wherever he pleases is the one trigger that will always, without fail, make Jasculs crushingly uncomfortable and hyperventilate. More often that not, it causes a panic attack.

Being told to "suck it up" about an emotional issue of his, being policed and lectured about his "purpose", and people amounting his worth to how much he has done for them trigger a severe moodswing where he's incredibly irritable, sassy, and easily snaps, and then later a depressive episode of varying intensity.

Face claim: Idris Elba. Voice claim: Jasculs laughs like Mark Fishbach aka Markiplier but otherwise he has no voice claim. Theme songs: It Will Be Me by Melissa Etheridge & Want You Here by Plumb. Alignment: Chaotic / lawful good. In-game classes he takes the most after: Vengeance demon hunter, with a bit of druid, hunter, and warrior inspiration here and there.

Alt Verses --- - 

All of these can be mix-and-matched as you please!

Corrupted: The Nightmare corrupts Jasculs in Val’sharah. During a night terror, around when G’Hunn breaks out, he accidentally kills Kinagosa, Mo’hir, and Sol’alore during a night terror. It’s the last straw and Jasculs loses his mind; he reverts back to calling himself Mateus Dawndream and only finds joy in causing endless bounds of chaos.

Garden: Sol’alore dies during an attack on Dalaran. Kina and Jasculs bury him in Val’sharah and a wild, beautiful garden sprouts from his grave. They live there, and the garden is the only thing keeping Jasculs afloat in his depression.

Jassalarian: Miraculously, Malassarian survives the burning of Teldrassil, and him and J’aaris proceed to join Jasculs’ little group of found-family.

Rometh: Grand Magister Rommath joins the Illidari and, after being freed, Mateth takes extremely well to him. Rommath overthrows Orian and Kayn, and Mateth gets to go on with his life without all the main verse struggles.

RP Hooks --- -  

Demon hunter / the Illidari: Before he left was banished from the Fel Hammer, Jasculs held the title of Slayer. He was the right-hand-man of the Commander / Illidan replacement, though he had no say in much on anything. Pre-Warden imprisonment, Jasculs was more of an intimidating shadow than a person; the demon binding ritual put him in a state of emotional and mental paralysation, meaning he did nothing but follow orders. Jasculs had no say in anything and was more of a husk of a tank and war-machine rather than an actual person, but being woken up from his imprisonment and losing his siblings shook him out of that state. Your character has most likely fought against him in Outland, or heard of him if they’re a demon hunter.

Bounty: Not only was Jasculs banished from the Fel Hammer, he was also accused of being a traitor of the Alliance and a war criminal and thus had a bounty placed on his head. The Horde, wanting to have any lavage at all against the Alliance, did so as well. From the end of Legion up until a week or two into the Nazjatar and Mechagon campaign, he has been travelling the world in an attempt to keep his head out of bounty hunter’s hands. Your muse can have either helped or endangered Jasculs and his family before they settled in Stormheim. Or, y’know. Tracked him down in his new home.

Actual old but quite emotionally clever fart: Jasculs has been through many phases in his life and has met a lot of different people and has fought against and with a lot of different people. Does your muse perhaps remember him from any of the Great Wars, or even the War of the Ancients? Possibly even before the Sundering? Maybe your muse needs emotional comfort/guidance; his age has brought Jasculs an immense amount of emotional knowledge, and his general presence tends to have a calming effect on people.

Militaries: There’s not a military on the face of Azeroth Jasculs hasn’t been a part of prior to the whole Outland ordeal.

Legion: Jasculs was involved in all of the Legion campaigns and played quite a role as tank and general adventurer. He is especially remembered in Suramar, Val’sharah, Stormheim, and Argus.

Dragon: Being a green dragon, Jasculs has a natural connection with nature and thus gets along quite well with hunters and druids. On the other hand, though, his demonic energies have animals freak out and attack him in his presence, which never fails to hurt his feelings. Your muse can help him be less threatening or teach him herbalism (he’s bad at it. Like, immensely. It’s embarrassing). Is your muse a dragon or dragonsworn or maybe even a dragon hunter? Maybe they sought him and his family out, but why? Did something with the Emerald Nightmare happen?

Self-proclaimed bodyguard: Not only does Jasculs attract trouble like a magnet attracts metal, he also has quite the habit of being in the area when other people attract it. He’s paranoid and devoted to keeping other people safe, even if they’re strangers; if your muse gets in trouble, Jasculs will more than happily jump in, whether his help is asked for or not, and even if he doesn’t know what’s going on.

OOC INFORMATION --- - 

where i roleplay: discord and tumblr. jasculs can be found at @hugs-not-anonymous while follows and likes come from @foxfictioncentral. what im looking for:

action & adventure rp

connections of all sorts (business, friends, enemies, familial, what have you)

slice of life

emotionally charged rp

mostly long-term connections

pre-established relationships

angst

what i wont do: explicit sexual content, self-harm, suicide, torture, and addiction, as well as excessive gore (as in all the former things are okay if not explicit, but excessive gore is just. yuck).

i mainly write multi-paragraphs style as i have a tendency to vomit words, but i won't say no to rping with different styles. my writing is very emotion heavy, and my favorite thing to write is emotionally challenging stuff. give me all the angst, tho i write p much anything

useful links: about || relationships || verses || promo || starter call

other muse blogs: @conflictedenergies​ @once-upon-a-memoir​

mun blogs: @foxfictioncentral​ @jcfoxington​ @arcticartings​

#world of warcraft rp #looking for rp #looking for contact #pokemon rp #good omens rp #neutral faction rp #green dragon #kaldorei #night elf #sin'dorei #blood elf #.beyond the scales.about #.lfc

[fawnnandfable]

All I Ask - Adam Cole

A/N: Ask me about my prompt list! My request are always open

Word Count: 1,865 Warnings: Smut

"Are you sure about this?" Adam asked as he stood there in front of you for what could very well be the last time.  The two of you were in what used to be your home. Now you were surrounded by boxes filled with your things. Things you've collected throughout your 6-year relationship. You didn't break up with Adam because he cheated, there was no neglect, there wasn't anything bad. Everything was fine, your relationship ended on a good note. Breaking up was best for both of you. Sometimes people change and the spark is no longer there. Adam didn't have to say anything. You could tell for a  while that he wasn't feeling it anymore, and that's okay. You would always love Adam, he will forever have a place in your heart but as you stand here in front of him with tears in your eyes and love in your heart you ask him for one last thing.

"Yes, I am."  You nodded taking his hand in yours. You wanted one last night with Adam. One more memory.  You didn't want what could be the last moment you shared to be sad, you wanted something to remember. 6 years is a long time to love somebody...What if you never love again? What if you never find someone that makes you feel the way Adam did. You took a step closer to him, he had a faint smile on his face as he examined your features. "What?"  You brows knitted together as leaned back.

"Just looking." Adam quickly turned around walking over towards the radio, he flipped through multiple C.D.'s before he found the one he was searching for. He popped the lid placing the disc inside and hitting play. Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers began to play. "Dance with me." Adam requested as he made his way back to you, pulling you close holding one hand as the other found it's way to your hip. Your smile grew wide as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"You're gonna make this hard, Mr. Cole."  You playfully groaned as you began to sway in place.

"Do you remember when we danced to this song on our first date? I'll never forget how gorgeous you looked in that damn dress."  Adam remembered. You rested your head on his shoulder as he held you close.

"You spilled wine on that dress" You giggled remembering how it all went down. He had taken you out dancing to a little bar in the middle of nowhere, he asked you to dance and the song began to play as you danced the night away. Though it was your first date, the song that played and the way Adam made you feel you could've sworn you'd been in love for years. After the song ended you went back to your table and ordered something to eat. Adam, being the clutz he was, knocked his red wine down the front of your white dress. You couldn't blame him, you were the dumbass who wore white on a date. He ended up taking you back to his place giving you some of his clothes to wear as you spent the night trying to rid the dress of its a stain.

"I am still so sorry about that by the way." Adam laughed, you could feel his chest vibrate under your head. You tried your best to fight back tears. This was going to be one of the hardest goodbyes, but you needed to. For you. You looked up at Adam only to see him looking back at you. Without thinking you leaned up placing a kiss on his semi-soft lips. Your eyes remained shut for a few extra seconds after you pulled away when you finally opened them Adam's hand cupped your cheek bringing you in for another. Softly, you kissed, innocently at first. Moving from closed mouth to slightly open to open, Adam got better, more confident, with each press of lips. Slowly, you moved to tentative tongue kisses to full on tonsil hockey. The passion, like a fever, began to rise. Softly, you put one of your hands on the back of his neck, holding him tight. Adam held you close with the other hand around your back. You slowly trailed your fingertips up and down his neck. You could feel the fever rising too. Your hand began to explore over his back as you continue kissing. Finally, after a few long minutes, He began to move his kisses. Slowly at first, his lips brushed the corner of your lips. Then, your cheek was next. Then he kissed below your ear. He went straight to the top of your neck, then slid to the middle. You sighed loudly. That's the spot, you silently thought. Adam's kisses turned to little nibbles then to soft biting. "Jump," Adam commanded, you did as told jumping up wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck. Adam half carried you across the room to press you against a wall. His hands were on your hips. He did nothing else but stare at you. Not saying a word. He stared at your face, hoping to remember it when you left, all your features. He stared the longest at your lips, crushed from the kiss. Finally, he looked you in the eyes.

"Adam..." you sighed but before his name was fully out of your lips, he crushed them to his. He lifted your hips towards him. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him. Without breaking the kiss, he pressed his crotch into you. He had to make you feel how hard you made him. Adam had to make you feel how he felt.  Once you started to grind against him, he moved one hand over to your breast, squeezing it hard through your shirt, through your bra. His other hand searched for one of yours and pinned it above you. You laced her fingers through it. Your other hand was on his nape again. It sent electric shocks through his body.  Adam broke the kiss to nibble on your ear. He knew it made you weak you couldn't help but moan, arching towards him, almost setting the both of you off balance. Adam's legs were burning, without breaking the kiss, he made his way to the bedroom. Your hands undressed him, popping each button, and helping him take his shirt off. His hands were equally busy. They undid the fly on your shorts, dropping them together with your panties. He carried you to the bedroom, sitting you on the foot of the bed. Adam was naked from the waist up and you naked from the waist down. You pulled your top over your head, now, you only had your bra on. Adam was still wearing his pants. He had kicked off his shoes on the way to the bedroom. Sliding your fingers through his belt loops you pulled him into you, his hands snaked around to your back to undo the clasps of your bra. You slid it down your arms and tossed it to the floor. This is exactly what you wanted, to spend your last night with Adam doing what lovers do.

You had undone his belt and zipper and when your hand wrapped around his hard cock, he gave a loud gasp. When you started stroking it, he did not hide his moans. His cock was weeping precum and it lubricated your hand job. Stepping out of his pants, Adam lowered them to sit on the bed. You kept her hand moving on his cock, you moved to go down on your knees, but Adam stopped you.

"No," he said his pointer finger and thumb grabbed your face bringing it his placing a rough kiss to your mouth. You moaned into the kiss digging your nails into his shoulders. You straddled his hips, your bare chest pressed against his as your tongues explored each other's mouths. Adam bit your bottom lip before aligning himself with your entrance. Your wetness provided the lubricate as you lowered yourself onto his cock.  A soft moan left your lips as you started rotating your hips, driving Adam absolutely wild. Adam's hands grasped your ass as he lifted you only to slam you down onto the mattress. He started making long slow strokes. With each one he felt like the flesh of his cock was being stripped off. He was hard and you were so wet. He slipped in and out of you so easily. It was glorious. You writhed underneath him, lost in a world of your own as he pumped steadily into you. When he changed the angle a bit so that his crotch hit your clit with every thrust, you went mad.  Adam gritted his teeth so he didn't explode right then. He knew this was going to be a short one, but he was damned if he didn't try to make it last as long as possible.

Adam was pumping a fraction faster as you came down. Through the haze, your gaze locked with his as you raised your head to kiss him. The kiss was frantic and soon Adam's thrusts mirrored it. He was losing his rhythm and was pumping erratically, moaning loudly. A light sheen of sweat was over him. With a few more frantic pumps, Adam started to pant loudly. His hands were now on your hips, he would climb into you if he could. With each hard thrust, he ground into your clit and unbelievably, You found yourself reaching your orgasm. A wave of pleasure washed over you, you screamed his name as your pussy shuddered around him. That was it for Adam. With a hard thrust and a loud grunt, he emptied into you. He kept thrusting as more of his cum shot out. He was aware of nothing else aside from the feel of your pussy around him.  A few minutes, or an eternity later, Adam came to. He was still inside you, and his head was nestled on the crook of your neck. You caressed his back as you both tried to catch your breaths. Adam rolled off of you, feeling slight pleasure as he slipped out.

His breathing evened out, he opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him. "Shh." You hushed as you rolled over onto what used to be your side of the bed. "Just hold me."  Adam did has you asked and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

-

You woke up before Adam and quietly moved your boxes from to the house to your car. You wanted to be gone before he woke up so you wouldn't have to say anything. Last night as what you needed, you didn't want a goodbye full of tears and sadness, you wanted something that you were going to remember for a very long time. You put the last box in your car, coming back inside you wrote a note to Adam and left it on the counter along with your key. You took one last look around before shutting and locking the door behind you...

-

@southsidebucky

#adam cole #adam cole smut #adam cole imagne

[themockingcrows]

The Esteemed Guest Switch

Now that reveals happened and I’m leeching a wifi signal for a few minutes... time to crosspost this! Written for Polyswap 2019! Also available on my AO3 under the same name.

Ship: Rose/Dirk/Dave in all configurations.

This fic is VERY NSFW.

tags: Praise Kink, Pegging, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Light Mommy Kink, Scratching, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Rope Bondage, Power Play, Trust, Rough Kissing, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Established Relationship, Incest, Spitroasting, Breathplay, Femdom

While all three are in love, normally Rose and Dirk share Dave and keep interactions between themselves on more even ground. Both Strider and LaLonde love to be in charge and the idea of yielding isn't one that's come up between them thanks to Dave being the happiest sub in the world between their combined affections. Yet is it possible that Dirk could like more than he knows? Perhaps he and Dave aren't so different after all, at least with Rose calling the shots.

                                               - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

     Separately was how Dave was used to dealing with Rose and Dirk romantically. They were each a larger than life personality, and each wanted a certain amount of control that he was more than happy to give, especially behind closed doors where each of them wanted his undivided attention and focus. It hadn’t taken long for them to agree on the setup of spending plenty of time together as a group but dividing up the romantic side. Dave had more than enough affection to give in a lot of directions and needed just as much attention back to feel fulfilled and happy, sometimes far more than a single person would be capable of giving especially if they were busy or distracted with other important things. Between their schedules and the tides of their own needs and wants, the schedules just sort of formed naturally between the three of them. Dave was a planet traveling in a circle between Dirk’s star and Rose’s silvery moon.

    Maybe the fact that Rose and Dirk were so alike was what helped the trio function so well, one person leaving just as the next came over wanting someone to lay on and cuddle while they had their hair played with. Even in the bedroom they exuded similar methods, albeit with very different energies guiding their actions. They each had a firm hand and high expectations of him, each had similar desires though not always in a conventional sense. Rose was usually a solid presence who alternated between sweet and tender and putting Dave through his paces before giving a reward that tended to veer towards being allowed to eat her out or to actually fuck her, or getting to pick what she would be pegging him senseless with. Dirk was a little harder to nail down. The methods were there, but the energy was different. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind on what he wanted out of some of their encounters from the feel of the directions. The stern hand softened in the heat of the moment, and many times he wound up putting Dave through his paces as a service top or with any other number of rewards. The treats were easier to obtain: Dirk was never as rough as Rose was.

    Dave, being Dave, couldn’t help but bring it up by accident when they were all sprawled out on the sofa together half paying attention to a terrible movie that nobody had enough opinion about to summon the energy of pulling out the remote to click away from. He lay sprawled across both their laps like an overgrown cat, head on Rose’s thighs and legs resting over Dirk’s legs so one gloved hand rested leisurely on the curve of his hip and ass. A yarn ball gently twitched against the small of his back as Rose clacked her knitting needles steadily, eyes trained on the screen and fingers moving without much more than a second thought to where she was on the line numerically. It was too easy to fuck something this calm up, especially for someone with as much raw chaotic energy as Dave. One second he’d been chattering about the villain being a dumbass, then he’d made Top Energy joke, then a dom joke, and then just to fully stuff his foot into his mouth he just had to look back at Rose specifically to ask her if it was familiar.

    Not both of them.

    Not Dirk.

    Rose first and foremost. Rose alone.

    “Excuse me?” said Dirk, leaning forward and resting his folded arms on Dave’s legs with enough pressure to indicate it was meant to be a pinning maneuver, tipping his head to show that he was trying to meet his eye behind the dual layers of shades. Oh, no, there was no escaping from him now. “Think my name got dropped by accident back there, Dave.”

    “You may need to get your ears checked, Dirk, he wasn’t talking about you at all,” Rose offered with a helpful smirk, setting the knitting project to the back of the sofa safely before using both hands to stroke at Dave’s upper back and hair affectionately. “Dave was talking about tops and doms, an aficionado would be best to ask for verification.”

    Dave felt heat rising on his face and a chill run down his back at the tone of her voice. Dirk had bristled almost immediately, although it’d be hard for anyone to tell just from looking at him. He’d twitched briefly, tensed his jaw and relaxed it like a horse chewing at a bit while he contemplated just what angle to attack from. A challenge that blatant couldn’t be ignored, not from his own flesh and blood especially.

    This could not stand.

    “My ears are fine after all then. Though I wonder as to Dave’s taste and sense of refinement if he considers whatever you do to be the sign of a better dom.” His gloved hand slid to Dave’s thigh and kneaded like a steady massage, the squeeze possessive and the downward press continuing to cement the idea that Dave was meant to stay where he was.  It was familiar, the same heavier touch that would grasp his ass and hoist him up into position against a wall or pin him down on a mattress. It felt rougher now, purposeful without the tinge of lust that usually accompanied it, and entirely directed at Rose despite not being placed upon her body.

    “Whatever I do..?” she asked. Perfectly applied lipstick only served to accentuate the tug upwards at the edges of her mouth, lips full and pretty and absolutely petty in the moment. A cat with the biggest bowl of cream all for herself. They were playing hard ball already, and since Dirk was the opponent in the play fight Rose knew not to hold a single punch. Going for the throat was what would make it most fun. “Why Dirk, I guess it makes sense you wouldn’t understand what I do. A bottom desperately playing the part of a top can only do so much. After all, it’s all a front on your end isn’t it?”

    The room was silent enough that Dave was concerned that his family could hear his thoughts, or at least the pitch at which he was screaming them in his head. A long, unending stream of “ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ” between his ears that neither rose nor fell, nor was affected by breath or the lack thereof. Jesus fucking tapdancing Christ this was why he never brought up bedroom bullshit when they were all in the same room. Well. Not entirely why. Mostly he never brought it up because aside from both already enjoying their power trips, they were both competitive to a fault and he didn’t want to deal with being stuck in the middle of their bullshit. It was so much easier for Dave to just be the happy sponge and savor the private time in each direction to the fullest rather than let the two of them puff up and posture at each other.

    There was love there, so much love, but it definitely had a mean streak to it. Honestly if they could just make out or fuck each other and get over it already it’d be for the better in Dave’s eyes. Cut through building tension in the quickest way possible, get to the core of the issue, and wake up on the other side in a tangled heap with a clearer head. Sometimes you just needed to fuck it out. However the same problem would no doubt arise, because of fucking course it would: who would top. Who would lead. Two doms enter a room, one walks out, and Dave already knew in his heart it’d be Rose doing the walking.

    At some point during his registering his internal monologue of toneless screams, both Dirk and Rose had begun staring at him, hoping for some kind of answer to a question he’d apparently missed. Fuck. Shit. Dave cleared his throat and curled himself a little tighter, knees lifting towards his stomach and gaze stubbornly shifting to the television screen once more.

    “Come again? Sorry, I wasn’t listenin’.”

    “Obviously,” Dirk said. “I don’t blame you though, most of it was bullshit.”

    “Spoken like a true bottom,” Rose crooned at him wickedly, savoring how he was actually frowning at her now instead of keeping a perfect poker face. He was showing the faintest of cracks, giving her directions on precisely how to tease him in ways that affected him, and Dave could already read the writing on the wall. He felt a cool hand slip beneath his shirt and stroke along the side of his ribs before reaching up towards his throat, clasping and applying just enough pressure to make him go entirely still for her out of habit. Dave felt his pulse grow hot against the expanse of her fingertips. “We were asking for your opinion on each of us, given your predisposition. If Dirk and I can’t agree about our roles, we can at least all agree with yours. You respond so well to both of us... But do you have a preference?”

    “Oh, fuck no, you are not pinnin’ that kinda pressure on me. If ya’ll wanna have beef with each other you can have as much Grade A premium as you want without draggin’ me into the thick of it,” Dave insisted as he decided to make a break for it, hands upon him or not. He shifted his weight and rolled off of his lovers legs like a log, thumping on the floor unevenly once Rose retracted her hand and scooting backwards on his ass to gain a bit of distance. The terrible movie droned on behind his head till he turned to click the damn thing off, wanting to be able to hear himself think more than he wanted to hear a half assed villain monologuing.

    “Easy, easy, we weren’t going to put you on the spot that seriously,” Dirk insisted as he stood up, dusting at his pants and the bottom edge of his shirt out of habit. Rose stood up at the same time and moved her knitting from the back of the couch to the side of it on the floor to keep it out of potential harm’s way. No sense in losing stitches after all. “It was more of a casual question.”

    “Man if you’re so curious what each other’s like in bed why not just do the routine?” Dave asked, bumping his fists together with a frustrated frown for emphasis. “Like. I can vouch if you really want me to, ya’ll are both fantastic. You’re just..”

    “Just what?” Dirk pressed.

    “..Different,” he explained. “Like. I can eat the same meal with the same recipe from two different places and it’ll be familiar but still different ‘cause it’s made by different people? Sometimes there’s extra touches and stuff thrown in on top of the familiar but that ain’t the point. My view’s gonna be pretty predictable and won’t make much of a difference ‘cause I ain’t choosin’ between you two even if you fuckin’ paid me to. Why not just cut out the middleman and just experience it.”

    Rose pursed her lips as if seriously considering the option, but Dirk seemed frustrated all over again.

    “That’ll defeat the entire point, Dave. You’re the one with experience of the both of us, if we dove in and did the top swap bullshit it’d prove nothing.”

    “You sound pretty sure of yourself,” Rose said suddenly. “Why not just do it then? I mean, what is there to lose? I love you and Dave equally, and I’d like to show you what I mean. It’d be an experience and then we’d be able to swap and see if there’s any other preferences. Perhaps even just pick up extra tricks we each could use. Think... sexy business meeting with our experienced sub and guest switch.”

    Dave flicked his gaze between Rose and Dirk several times, but he already knew what was happening without needing to see. She was so calm, so certain, prepared with logic and explanations aplenty even as Dirk was prepared to cross them with twenty more. They were staring each other down then, Rose smiling softly and Dirk stiff as a board with arguments on his lips unable to come out, playing a game of chess without needing to make a single movement. If he backed down or tried to insist she go first there were ways to argue it that would either circle back around or which would be logically sound and stand there only to make him sound like a bitch if he backed down. Dirk had dug the beginning of his own grave with his love of debate and choosing to go against the offspring that could give as good as she gave.

    The staredown finally ended as Dirk slowly exhaled and relaxed his posture, slipping his hands into his pockets to signal the dance had ended and he was relenting.

    “Fine. Example sub with guest switch. Ladies first?”

    “Oh, hardly,” Rose said as she closed the gap between them to press her fingertips against Dirk’s chest, smoothing the fabric upwards when she leaned closer to press her lips to his cheek. “I’d rather give you time to consider your counter examples. I’ve nothing to hide and I’m prepared, so I may as well take the riskier position since I brought the idea up in the first place. You know. So you could maybe stand a chance of impressing me, I mean.”

    Dirk lifted his chin subtly, ignoring the faint ghost of shadow left behind from the black coating Rose’s lips that now graced his skin. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, not directly. Not on this level. He flicked his eyes away from Rose’s to look at Dave as he slowly stood up off the floor and dusted at his thighs out of habit, standing by at the ready without even needing to be told.

    ...Fuck, maybe this was actually going to be more of a challenge than anticipated.

    “Dave. Are you ready?” Rose asked as she pulled her hands free of Dirk’s body and turned open armed towards her brother, grin bright and cheerful as a Rose LaLonde smile could be. Dave, used to fucking a predator by this point in his life, nodded and moved to take his shirt off. “Ah ah. Nope. Not out here, I’m not interested in messing up the sofa or needing to pause to get supplies. My room instead. Shoo, both of you. And shades off once you get in there!”

    Stretching without a care in the world, Dave left their cluster and sauntered off for Rose’s room with Dirk bringing up the rear once he realized Rose wasn’t going to be walking at the same pace at all. She’d headed to the kitchen instead to rummage around for something or other that was supposedly important for this example session and would presumably be turning up shortly after them both.

    Rose’s room was painted a soft grayish lavender, more somber than pastel and well matched with the dark colored trappings and coverings she’d collected over the years. Her room was a mishmash of gothic aesthetics and geek chic with a pile of clean laundry adorning her floordrobe and a bra slung over her laptop which guarded several empty cans that ranged from coffee to energy drink to an orange soda she’d filched from Dirk days before and a few mugs that needed washing. The bed was made at least, and the floor more than clear enough to work with. Dave casually scooted a few stray things out of the floor just in case, kicking a few plushies and toeing shoes under the edge of her bed so the carpet was more inviting.

    “This is so stupid.. Is she doing this on purpose?” Dirk asked.

    “Doin’ what.”

    “Half assing presentation,” Dirk said. “This just feels sloppy. I mean, the room isn’t even clean.”

    “As if yours ever is.”

    “...That’s not the point, it’d be spotless if it was for proving something.”

    “Spite fuels you cleanin’ your shit up, huh?” Dave asked as he took a seat on Rose’s bed and flopped backwards. He took his shades off and folded them to tuck on the bedside table before lifting a brow at Dirk. “How much spite would it take to fill the dishwasher once in a while.”

    “Dave.”

    “Or vacuum or somethin’?”

    “Dave.”

    “If Rose shoves enough spite up your lubed ass will you suddenly go all ‘50s housewife with the pearls and the heels and the casserole dishes? I dunno man it could be a look, borrow some shit from Jane, get a manicure, stop bein’ a fuckin’ gremlin for ten whole seconds-”

    “Is this just a game to you??”

    “No and yeah.”

    “You don’t get both, which is it.”

    Dave sighed and pressed his hands to his face before slipping one off so he could pat the mattress beside himself as a signal for Dirk to sit down and join him.

    “Look. I’m poking fun at you because you’re bein’ a dick about this. It’s sex. It’s supposed to be fun. If you go in fighting you’re gonna have a shit time and act like it’ll prove your point when really all it proves is you’re a bitch who can’t let people have nice things.” Dave frowned at him when Dirk opened his mouth to retort. “Hey. No. No, right off the bat. I’d be sayin’ this to Rose too if she was gonna turn up to your turn being a bitch too. Just give it a fair shot, okay? Fair as you’d want anyone to give you.”

    “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to do the puppy dog eyes when you’re trying to convince me to be a good little boy in this weird ass scenario, Dave. I wouldn’t even be doing this if not for you,” he said as he took off his shades, setting them by Dave’s with a sigh.

    “Yeah?”

    “Yep. I’m not expecting to be impressed. Rose is every bit myself as I’m her in some ways, so I’m expecting something I suppose, but one thing I’m sure is you were telling the truth before about enjoying yourself with both of us.” He smirked. “I’ll get to see you getting wrecked without having to lift a single finger.”

    “Voyeurism. Lazy voyeurism.”

    “Said as if you’re surprised. Dave, how well do you know me?” Dirk asked as he reached an arm out to catch Dave’s torso, tugging him closer for a squeeze.

    Dave hummed, stone faced as he was hugged, apparently lost in thought. “Y’know I thought I knew you really well but I just realized I dunno how a cuck joke in its natural habitat’d fly with you, so I guess we’re good as strangers.”

    Dirk snorted a soft laugh near his ear that made his chest warm, and it hit home just how they were positioned. Close together, holding on like climbing vines to one another on a soft topped bed with what promised to be great sex on the horizon. Dave held still for a moment, another heartbeat, a third, before lifting his chin up to kiss him square on the mouth. Their lips parted before rejoining a second time, but by the third it was growing hungrier. Dirk slipped his hand up beneath Dave’s shirt and shifted to roll him to his back as Dave slicked his fingers up into Dirk’s hair and tugged gently. They parted and came together in the heat of the moment several times more, unheeding of their feminine surroundings ‘til the room’s owner joined them in the room quietly to watch.

    Rose smiled at the tangle of lanky limbs on her bed and quietly walked over to her desk to pull out the computer chair, spinning it so it faced the bed. A wine glass was settled on the closed laptop lid rather than risk making noise by disturbing any of the debris she kept putting off cleaning up, bra deposited on the floor out of the way. Sinking down into the chair she adjusted her grip on the chilled bottle she held and slipped a corkscrew into the stopper, gently swirling it down into the pithy cork till it was firmly stuck in place. Another turn of her wrist and the bottle was slipped easily against her side, steadying her grip with the arms of the corkscrew before giving it a hard yank to free the cork with a pop. The way the boys scrambled in surprise and sat up looking around like two teens whose parents just opened the front door an hour early was absolutely precious.

    “Eager, huh? The way you were talking just a bit ago made me wonder how interested you really were in following through with this,” she said as she poured a bit of the soft pink liquid into the glass. The bottle was set beneath the desk where it wouldn’t potentially be overturned by mistake before she swirled her cup. “Dave, go tidy yourself up and get ready real quick. Dirk can go after you’re done.”

    “All off or..?” Dave asked as he rested on his elbows, waiting for Dirk to crawl off of him the rest of the way before rising to his feet. The way he had to adjust his jeans to relieve the pressure was as attractive as the flush that had settled onto his cheeks.

    “All off this time,” said Rose as she took a sip. “Thank you for asking. Run along now.”

    Dirk steadily knee walked backwards till Dave could slip free, leaving him to sit on his feet in silence on the mattress once he and Rose were alone. No music. No sound but breathing and the occasional sounds from the bathroom as Dave did as he’d been told. Orange eyes glanced over to stare for a few moments, waiting for some kind of a clue, some sign he wasn’t picking up on. Rose gave him nothing but burning eyes beneath relaxed lids and the gentle curve of her lips.

    “So. You’ve got this all planned?”

    “Mhmm. I admit I thought you two might last a little longer before nearly fucking on my bed, but with how much tension there was in the air just before this it’s my own fault for not assuming you’d do just that.” She took another sip of her drink before humming. “Was it just a moment of passion, or were you subtly snubbing me by doing that before I could even begin?”

    “Moment of passion brought on by a cuck joke,” he said with a straight face. The laugh he got in reply was a nice reminder that Rose was human, was still herself, was still playful underneath the flashes of dark flirting she’d done just earlier. “So. What are the ground rules here, for what’s going to happen.”

    “Straight forward, the same rules I use for Dave. I expect you to follow them, including the rule about tapping out if you need to,” she said, gesturing with her free hand as she spoke. “Traffic signals work best with us so that’s what I think would be best to stick with. Familiar, clear cut. The safe word is Puppets.”

    “....Puppets,” Dirk repeated. “Why the fuck is that the safe word.”

    “Because unlike you, at least from what I can gather based on your surprise, Dave isn’t the type to be waxing poetic about plush puppet ass while getting hammered by something large enough to make English an even more difficult language to grasp.”

    Dirk glowered like a wet cat and he felt the air spark between them again, acutely aware of the shifting pawn between them in play and just how much was weighing it down. There wasn’t much to really lose here. It wasn’t like a true gamble, they’d all be winning. It’d just be his pride that was bruised if Rose proved all the points he was becoming more and more certain she was wanting to not only prove but polish and place on the mantle for future generations to admire after it’d been cast in bronze.

    LaLondes.

    “Right,” he allowed. “What else, then. Give me the run down.”

    “Once Dave gets back you’ll be going to do the same thing he’s doing right now. Clean out, clean up, leave the clothes behind. We’ll hop right into it once you get back and we’re on the same page as far as preparations go. Dave’s example sub, and you’ll be following suit: namely by following instructions. ...At least to start with.”

    “How long do I need to follow instructions till the free will kicks in.”

    “Oh there’ll be wiggle room, relax,” she said as she took another sip. “Would you like some of this now? Or after you’re naked. Dave’ll have some too. I’d hate for you to be the odd one out because of a miscommunication simple as ‘hey do you want some of this sweet booze I’ve got or nah’.”

    “Do you normally drink when you do this?” Dirk asked, resting back on his hands to strike what he was fairly certain was a casual pose. “Considering how often we swap around that’d make for a lot more alcohol than I thought was ever in the house at the same time, or a lot of stealth liquor store runs.”

    “Hah. No, I don’t normally drink before sex. This is more of a special occasion than anything,” she explained. The glass was mostly empty now. Rose took a breath before tipping her head back and finishing the last few sips worth, then sat the glass back atop her laptop. She didn’t refill it right away, instead crossing her legs and settling her hands almost primly in her lap as if waiting for another question to float her way.

    Dirk watched the smooth lines of her legs intertwine, watched how her body curled to itself. It was a bit different than earlier when she was looking ready to eat him alive, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Was it the alcohol? No, she’d literally just drank it, there was no way it’d be affecting anything yet. It wasn’t enough to be hesitancy like fear. The uncertainty was almost enough to piss him off all over again, being given a rubix cube of bullshit when he was already dealing with the task at hand, but there wasn’t a chance to fret over it much. He heard the sound of the bathroom door clicking open down the hall and the creak of the floor as Dave made his way back.

    Practiced, poised looking steps took effect as soon as Dave crossed the threshold of Rose’s room, chin lifted and shoulders back instead of the usual slouch he relaxed into. This was a fairly practiced routine, or at least a habit that had been encouraged enough that it was second nature. He didn’t go to sit on the bed with Dirk once more, though it was pretty clear Dirk wanted to get his hands back on him, especially now that the clothes were out of the way and the half hard bit of dick was just sitting there like a present in full view. Dave headed towards the desk and the chair Rose was settled in, slipped down to his knees in front of hers, and leaned forward to rest his head on her lap like the overgrown lap dog he was at heart. She rewarded him with a few gentle strokes at his hair and down his back before looking up at Dirk, fonder, softer. She always loved the beginning, especially when Dave remembered things without even needing to be reminded.

    He worked so hard to do things right and to make her happy, to impress her. How could she not love that? Love him?

    “Your turn, Dirk. Same as we discussed,” she said before looking back down towards Dave, smile remaining soft as he tipped his head to chase the pressure of her fingers and nails so she’d keep stroking and scratching and petting in the best feeling spots. “We’ll be right here waiting for you to get back.”

    Dirk felt a little better for having seen that tenderness. Rose was gorgeous when she was all thorns and wit coming for his throat, but the gentler side was mesmerizing. The realization that there was a higher than zero percent chance that he’d wind up with her softly cooing and stroking at his hair same as she was to Dave right now made something flip in his stomach that, frankly, needed to fuck off. This wasn’t how bets were won and points were made. There was always time for being coddled and rewarded and praised in the future, when his pride wasn’t on the line. Fuck being a good little boy. He needed to be a good little switch, no matter how brief of a time he was meant to be one to prove this point.

    Tidying himself up was simple and straightforward once he reached the bathroom, no stranger to this kind of prep before play. Leaving behind the clothes to do the walk of shame to the bedroom instead of being able to saunter in with a plan in mind and the full attention of a really attractive man on his bed was a hell of a change though. He spent more than a little time looking into the mirror and fussing with hair that didn’t need fussing with, blowing time before finally giving in to fate and heading back to the hallway. Well. At least he’d gone flacci-

    ...Traitor.

    Fucking traitor of a dick.

    Of all the times to beg to be flaccid, why did it have to be now that he was pretty sure he was rolling from a halfie into an erection that would let him fuck a building. Maybe nobody’d point it out if he didn’t, give him the benefit of that.

    “I was starting to wonder if you’d chickened out,” Rose said the second he’d entered the room, making him stop and slouch before he caught himself. “Or gotten lost at least. Is that for both of us or just me?” she asked as she gestured for him to come over as well. Dave scooted an inch or two to the side before returning his head lazily to where it had been before to avoid missing a thing.

    “Both I guess. Take it as proof of my investment in this situation as opposed to any hint of me trying to sabotage anything,” Dirk said as he knelt down beside Dave and warily rested his chin on Rose’s lap.

    She wasted no time in laying a hand on him, gently stroking his hair back several times before applying more pressure with her fingertips at pressure points alongside his jaw and temple. It was like a one handed massage ranging from his head to his neck, and the longer it lasted the more Dirk was understanding why Dave seemed so happy to drop down and get his own. Every stroke was accompanied with soft murmuring in Rose’s warm voice. Gentle. Loving. Familiar but maternal in a way Dirk was unfamiliar with. Though tense at first there was no way to resist for long, not with Rose’s soothing movements and the warmth of Dave’s bare flesh against his side and his breath near his cheek.

    The soporific effects of a good petting were nearly enough to lul Dirk to a doze despite sitting seiza, leaving him to languidly lift his head when soft fingers beneath his chin lifted upwards. Rose smiled at both of them and nodded.

    “Good. You’re both doing amazing.. Are you ready to really start?”

    Dave hummed and stretched in place before nodding, eyes half closed. Dirk just watched her quietly, wondering how things would proceed. This was already extremely different from how he did things. ...If this was the intro, what was the aftercare like? Would they go hard enough to need aftercare? No, that was a stupid question, aftercare was important and he knew Rose was more than qualified to know something that basic.

    “Great. Dave, go get on the foot of the bed for me. Dirk, stand to the side and keep your hands to yourself,” she said in a sterner voice than the soft murmurings of moments before. When both had risen to do her bidding, Rose stood and rummaged beneath her bed for a flat storage box and slid the lid off. Along essential tools like lube and some massage oil rested handcuffs and a fairly new looking gag, a few lengths of silky black rope in neatly coiled loops, a well maintained strapon rig and several covered sizes and shapes of toys that would attach and several that would not. Dirk eyed the box closely for a moment before deciding the more interesting feature in the room was Dave settled on the bed spread with his gangly legs parted and a cocky grin on his face the second he caught him staring, a hand snaking down to grasp his dick and give it a playful jiggle.

    “Hands off yourself, Dave,” Rose said without even looking up. Her tone was sharp, stern, not to be argued with as she picked up one of the lengths of rope and settled a second one like an overly large bracelet on her wrist. Instantly Dave pulled his hand back and sighed.

    “Yes’m.”

    Rope in hand, Rose rounded on Dirk and lifted the first loop in display as she unfurled the end of it, wanting him to be aware of what was coming his direction. “Turn around and cross your wrists. You’ll be that way for a while, so pick a comfortable position. Traffic lights like we said before. If it’s really intense red suddenly and you need out immediately, I’ve got scissors.”

    No sooner had Dirk sighed and turned around, Rose had begun to slide the rope around his wrists and criss crossed up his arms. The silky cord slipped over the front of his throat before easing back down like a spiders web to cross his upper arms and chest. He hated to admit it, but her interlacing knot work was intricate and functionally attractive on top of being quickly applied. How often was Dave tied up for her to be this quick with it? He bent occasionally without needing to be asked so she could reach easier, straightening at the right times to ensure the ropes weren’t tight at an improper angle.

    “They feel a lil loose,” Dirk said when she’d begun unlooping and feeding in the second cord set, wiggling his arms for emphasis. “Not like it’ll fall off but.. I mean, if you want me to just keep my arms still it’ll work just fine. Could stand to be tighter and be plenty comfortable.”

    “I didn’t ask your opinion on my work, but it’s good to know you’re comfortable. Planning on fighting me?” she asked playfully as she tied a few knots, playing over the lacing along his back and sides. “Get on your knees.”

    Another twitch of his dick kept the early erection from flagging, though Dirk wasn’t sure if it was from the tone of Rose’s voice or the way Dave was biting his lip while staring at him. Dirk sank down to his knees on the carpet, tantalizingly close to Dave’s parted legs as it was before he felt something shift behind him. Rose pressed her foot squarely in the center of Dirk’s back and pulled the rope sharply, forcing him forward against Dave’s cock as the intertwined ropes cinched more firmly in place. He grunted and wiggled his fingers before testing the rest of his arms. No luck, he was stuck tight but fairly comfortably in place.

    “Hands gonna go numb?” she asked. “I can loosen if it’s too tight.”

    Dirk grunted and lifted his head up, though Dave didn’t budge an inch, practically glued in place once a soft cheek was against his junk. It was a good look for Dirk, tied up and in prime position to get his mouth busy at the barest word. He turned his head unprompted to nuzzle Dave’s length while he was there, loving being the cause of the twitch in his muscles and the shaky inhale of breath. Same as he would when spending a night with him. Christ he was responsive, already keyed up and ready to go, eager as—

    Slim fingers threaded into his hair and tugged to force his head back far enough to look clearly into the soft purple of Rose’s eyes set deep in the crisp black eyeliner. She tucked a strand of hair behind her own ear before doing the same motion to Dirk’s bangs, fingers stroking along the flesh of his jaw and throat afterwards in a clearly possessive gesture that was the same maternal petting from earlier with the horny switch cranked to high. He caught himself wanting… more. He wanted her to dig her fingernails into his throat, wanted her to look at him with those same calculating eyes and step on him. It was a peculiar sensation considering normally those thoughts only crept into his mind further along in the heat of the moment with a partner.

    “I’d like an answer, Dirk. Are the ropes too tight. We can’t really go ahead with anything if you’re keeping secrets from me so early.. I might need to just make you watch instead,” she said, giving a harder yank to his hair when he started to frown at her. “I’ll give you a few more chances to be a good boy for me.”

    “Yeah, they’re fine. Sorry,” Dirk said before the apology really registered. Rose grinned impishly and leaned down further, keeping his head firmly in place before kissing him. He could feel the soft squidge of lipstick, and knew that no doubt he was wearing another ghost on his mouth. The warmth of her tongue probed at his lips briefly before she pulled away and licked her lips appreciatively.

    “Good. We’re back on the right track then,” she said as she released him and headed back to the desk. Rose pulled the bottle up from the ground and poured another glass of the pink wine before replacing it down out of kick range. Before taking her seat again she removed her top, revealing the black lace that covered each breast when she turned around proper once more and crossed her legs in front of herself. “You were on the right track before that interruption. I want you to get Dave plenty warmed up. Don’t get him off, but get him close. No hands obviously... There’s a nice reward for doing well.”

    Lifting a brow Dirk glanced over to Dave who had briefly closed his knees before looking back to Rose. She took a small sip of the wine and smiled, keeping the glass in hand before giving a cheers gesture.

    Well. No time like the present then. Giving as much of a shrug as he could while trussed up like a feisty piece of wild game, Dirk shuffled on his knees to line up again. Dave was a familiar taste on his tongue, a welcome string of an increasingly staccato heartbeat between his lips, soft skin and salt and the faintest smell of that weird body wash he used that reeked like overly sweet apple candy took a dip in some Red Hots. It was almost sweet on the back of his tongue as he sank down low, taking as much as he could, brushing pubes with his nose before pulling back to get some kind of a rhythm going.

    His plan was a simple but efficient one: go in fast and hard, then pull away and tease him half to death before diving back on him again. Barring any interruptions from Rose he should be an absolute fucking mess in short enough order. It may not be his turn to lead the show but this was a thing he’d done plenty of times in the past. Making Dave squirm was a favored past time in this house and he was honored that Rose had the foresight to let him keep this piece of it.

    Dirk was messy as he bobbed in place, saliva slicking along the surface of Dave’s cock as he rose and fell, making it all the easier for him to get real suction once he started to suckle. He heard a moan and felt another shudder, knees tensing at his shoulders and the ache of his own dick firmly rising to attention. Plenty of stimuli to let Dirk’s mind slip into a relaxed haze of hormones when it was tangled in with the reminder that they weren’t alone. The inability to reach up and fondle his balls or stroke Dave’s thigh was frustrating, as was fighting the angle of his dick a few times when suction broke or he wanted to lower down and taste him from another side, getting whapped on the nose with wet cock more than once. They were small stumbling blocks but far from enough to deter him from giving this his all.

    The softest squeak came from the chair as Rose moved behind him, but he couldn’t bother focusing on her at all, not when he was this invested in making Dave shiver. He wanted a moan, really. As many as he could get. The louder he could make Dave react the better he knew he was doing and the more invested Dave was since he wasn’t filtering noise by then. Another shuffle of cloth from out of sight, and Rose was suddenly making the bed dip as she sat at Dave’s side, only her underthings remaining on and in place now.

    Though he strained his ears to listen, Dirk couldn’t make out whatever was being whispered into Dave’s ear aside from it being several sentences that made him finally moan again and start to softly pant. Rose stroked at the flat expanse of Dave’s chest while she talked him through something before again giving the possessive gesture over his throat to tip his head back. When she offered the wine he drank, steady sips till the glass was nearly half gone and she was pulling it back again. When she spoke again it was loud enough for Dirk to hear as well.

    “I need to video you sometime, Dave. Both of you. You’d need to see this to appreciate it properly. You have this flush on you and you keep biting your lips and squirming every time his head goes down. Dirk,” she said with a grin, as she gently turned her body to face him more directly, ”you’re as good with a dick in your mouth as I knew you’d be... it’s quite fetching.”

    A leg unfurled from where it was resting with the other as she guided a bare foot towards his groin, pressing the ball of it flat against his shaft till it pressed firm against his stomach. The temperature difference alone almost made Dirk moan, but she didn’t let that fully sink in before starting to gently move in a rubbing gesture. It was pressure but not enough to be effective. It was a tease, and a damn good one considering any time Dirk opened his eyes to look up towards Dave, Rose was there in his view instead. Watching. Waiting. Judging his every reaction.

    Rose pressed down harder then, hard enough to hurt and make Dirk flinch and pull off Dave’s cock with a wet popping sound.

    “ Shit , knock it off.”

    She remained firmly in place and smiled, unimpressed.

    “Red? Yellow?”

    “ Green ,” he insisted with a grumble, diving back down onto Dave’s dick with renewed gusto as Rose started to move her leg up and down with the same intense pressing. It was a blend of painful and pleasurable, just enough to keep him on edge before she was gently easing off.

    “So stubborn. Well, if it’s too much I’ll stop once you say the word, but I admit I’m glad we’re continuing. Tapping out so early would skip the most fun parts and I’d not be able to keep looking at your eyes this clearly.”

    The second the discomfort stopped and he’d relaxed, Rose pressed her foot down firmly once more, grin turning to a smirk when Dirk flinched hard again. It wasn’t as if she’d stomped on him, but it was hard and sudden enough that he—

    He moaned.

    Christ a moan slipped out and Rose looked absolutely wicked as she held her pose, still as a statue before raising her leg higher to press against his chest, forcing Dirk off of where he’d been so intently suckling. To his surprise she came forward with the wine glass and offered him the remaining half.

    “So well behaved,” she cooed as she tipped the glass, sweet wine slipping into his mouth with just enough of an alcoholic burn to clear the savory taste from his mouth.

    Dave looked fit to burst already, fingers fisting in the sheets as he squirmed on his own time. No hands. No touching. He needed to wait and be patient but Jesus fucking Christ was it hard considering there was a guy he was severely attracted to that he wanted to jump on in one position or another at his feet and a woman he couldn’t stop gawking at in underwear that hugged her curves like a coastline pressing against him. He was too bi for this. Way. Way too bi for this. It wasn’t fucking fair .

    Rose retreated from the bed when the wine was drained, setting the glass atop her closed laptop once more before selecting another needed item. The familiar shape of a lube container, albeit a different brand than Dirk usually preferred, graced Rose’s hands when he could next see them.

    “Time to switch things up a bit. Dirk, I’m sure your knees could use a break. Come up here where Dave is and lay back,” she instructed. Dave shuffled to give up his position, before going to help brace Dirk as he rose as gracefully as someone this burdened by a boner could stand while bound with ropes. Which is to say as gracefully as a tranquilized cow till he caught his center of balance on his own past a certain height with Dave’s assistance. She was right, it was nice to get off his knees and restore circulation to his feet that he hadn’t quite been aware was slipping away by the minute while he worked Dave over. Even better was to stretch his back out on the soft mattress, carefully folding his hands instead of clenching into fists, taking a steady breath in and exhaling. A fingertip pressed at the underside of his dick, gently bobbling it in place till he glanced down as far as he could.

    “Dave. Straddle his middle and get to work on this for me, mm? Hips up so I can work,” she said with a smile. “Try to think ahead to what you’d like from the box afterwards.”

    Dave eyed the lube in her hand for about a half second before he was on Dirk’s waist, nearly a blur from how little convincing he needed. He braced himself on one bent arm before leaning down to take Dirk into his mouth, bumping the back of his own throat a few times before easing into it. His hips remained up as Rose instructed, dick remaining downwards to leave a cooling trail of precome in its wake from where the head briefly touched Dirk’s abdomen.

    Forget trying to be quiet, after the earlier teasing and the waiting, suddenly having eager warmth on him was more than welcome. Dirk dropped his head back and groaned low and heady, brows furrowing. He only opened his eyes again when the bed gave another well timed dip, Rose settling on her knees beside his head to fiddle with the lube. It seemed to be a new container judging from how she uncapped it and tore off the small amount of guard plastic over the opening with the tips of those sharp nails that Dirk wanted back on his neck again. When the cap was snapped back in place she reached an empty hand out to stroke the side of Dave’s hip.

    “You know, I’d originally intended for you to do this part of the job for me with your mouth, or at least the majority of it,” she said. The stroke turned rough, nails turning to leave a trail of stinging red behind, making Dave’s muscles tense and his muffled whine to appear over the sounds of soft wet slurps. “I don’t think you’d have minded. He’s quite a treat when he’s like this. I’m sure you know already, of course.. Can bend him to whatever whims you have and he folds like paper best he can.”

    The scratch ended near the middle of the back edge of Dave’s thigh before Rose stroked the roughed up line with the back of her knuckles. An unexpected pang of jealousy shot through Dirk as he watched those red welts appear.

    “I love him for how hard he works to make me happy. ...You though. You still need to impress me.”

    “What do you want to prove with this. If I’m bad at it, it just proves I’m not cut out to be a bottom. Like I said,” Dirk challenged.

    Rose pursed her lips as if frustrated he were missing an unstated point, then shook her head.

    “I don’t think that’s quite right. I’m not asking for you to be a god of sex, Dirk. I’m asking the same of you as I ask of Dave: compliance. The attempt. If you try your best and give your all, if you’re good for me, it shines through. If you half ass something or try to be spiteful, it shows through as well.”

    She stroked beneath his chin then before drawing her hand back down and trailing upwards again, dragging the edge of her fingernail up over his collarbone, up over his Adam’s apple, stopping right at the tip of his chin.

    “I like honesty too.. I want everyone happy as I make Dave,” she said. “If someone’s working hard to make me happy, then it’s my job to make sure they get satisfied as well. This is a two way street, remember?”

    “You’re preaching t-ahh… To the choir, Rose. I know all this already, this is normally my job remember?”

    Rose’s eyes narrowed just enough to make him question if they’d changed at all. The predator look was back with her smile, and when presented in tandem with Dave’s continued eager actions over his dick it was getting harder and harder to not respond just how she wanted to keep things happening.

    “Alright then. When you feel like talking later you can tell me everything,” she said. “No doubt you’ll be eager to talk again by the time you’re done.”

    “Done with what, just last? I can’t do much like…” Dirk trailed off as Rose sank back and hooked her thumbs into the edges of her panties, working them down and off before slinging a leg over Dirk’s face. She peered down at him and winked.

    “I’ve got some work to do now, but keep that thought in mind for later,” she urged as she scooted further down his face to line herself up. “Eat up for now. If you do well you’ll be getting what Dave gets afterward. I’d hate for you to wind up unsatisfied.”

    So that’s how she was going to be. She had to know. She knew and was doing this on purpose, stringing him along while knowing precisely what he wanted and choosing to ignore it. ...Or. Or she didn’t know? Which was it? Rose said she was going to prove she was the better dom somehow, but so far she was just proving how frustrating she could be. So be it then. Grunting, Dirk strained upwards a fraction to reach her easier, tracing his tongue along her clit a few times to tease and adjust to the new task.

    Eating pussy was fundamentally different from sucking a dick, especially at this angle. Rose did something that made Dave hum and breathe heavier around his cock again, knees shaking where they were pressed at his sides, making Dirk wish he could see more than Rose’s ass above him. She had to be opening him up, there’s nothing else she could be doing, prep work wasn’t anything mysterious or new when dicks had been mentioned and an ass was going to take something. However for some reason being unable to see yet being able to feel the progress, while being expected to keep his tongue and lips moving over Rose’s lower lips was a true test. Two bodies, two people he cared for, loved even, were resting atop him as if in their own world despite the distinct connection between the three of them. They were a mechanically functional ourboros of sex, and Dirk couldn’t give two shits that his shoulders felt like they were cramping a bit.

    Experimentally Dirk probed hard with his tongue before finding a good spot to suckle at, repeating the sucking the same as he had to Dave’s dick earlier over her clit, focusing with his tongue and lips as if he were drinking a thick milkshake through a boba straw. Rose tensed over him and rocked her hips, grinding against his face, forcing the back of his head down into the mattress. He had to time his breathing to avoid feeling claustrophobic beneath the warm mass of ass and thigh, but this was doable, especially once he started to get reactions like that out of her. Any reaction was good, but the ones he could feel twice as much were appealing; every time he made Rose feel good she seemed to get more intense with prepping Dave, who in turn went to town on his cock as if it were a quickly melting ice cream cone in the center of a heat wave.

    “Three fingers already? You’re such a slut,” Dirk heard through the thigh earmuffs he was wearing, and with it came the sharper sound of a hard slap. Dave flinched and jammed himself down so far on his cock that Dirk saw stars and stopped licking to gasp, though the reprieve was limited as Rose ground down on him again to make him re-start. “Three fingers for Dave and a reprimand for my previously well behaved chair if he doesn’t finish his dinner. Wow, I think you’d be able to take Asmodeus quite easily this time...”

    Asmodeus?

    Jesus fucking Christ, did Rose name her dicks?

    Another sharp slap sound, another moment of Dave swallowing around his dick, and Dirk could only think one thing in the haze of trying not to come too soon: a reprimand. That was intriguing. Would she even follow through on that threat? She didn’t seem unwilling to raise her hand now and then, and from the noise it had been strong enough to potentially leave some marks wherever the strike had connected with Dave’s body. Would he get any of that? Or was she not that type of dom.

    Wait, why the fuck was he wondering that. Even if she was, who cared? Why did he give two shits? He was just following Dave’s lead so she could prove her point and then he could prove his point in the near future as a love letter to just how incorrect she was about him.

    ...Though. It would be a bit of a waste to not experience everything Rose had to offer in such circumstances. Before he could reconsider the nagging sense of curiosity, Dirk probed as efficiently as he could and went still once more. He felt the nudge, the rutting against his nose and mouth, but the hopeful response of being threatened didn’t happen. Instead Rose suddenly lifted off his face and to the side, giving Dirk a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in a while. It felt cold on his face and down his throat, and the light of the room felt too bright.

    “Good, I’m glad you’re okay,” Rose said as she watched him. Her clean hand touched his face gently as it had before, stroking down his cheek and jaw. It was startling just how much it relaxed him, how soothed and comforted he felt. This was okay. This was nice, actually. He actually closed his eyes while she pet and stroked at his face, leaning subtly into her touch. “Do you have anything else to tell me before we move on?” she asked softly. “Dave’s pretty wound up now and I hate to keep him waiting for too long.”

    “Can I go ahead and pick one out?” Dave asked on cue, needing to keep his mind on absolutely anything but reaching down to rub one out. He could be patient. He could wait. But when he didn’t absolutely have to wait, when he could be a little whiny and get away with it? Why not take advantage of that. Rose only let him do it when she felt like letting him do it, and when she didn’t feel like it he still won anyway when being punished.

    Always winning made for a prettying freeing experience with Rose. It was easy to win with Dirk as well, but the feeling was just so different. Rose alternated the softness with the intensity purposefully, interweaving them as she pleased. Dirk aimed for hard and faltered, softening at occasionally crucial moments. Were it anyone but him would he do that? Or was this softness a Dave specific reaction for Dirk?

    “Yes, pick whichever one you want,” Rose said without looking up as Dave slid off the bed excited as a kid at Christmas to rifle through the options. “You’re picking for Dirk as well, so keep that in mind. Don’t challenge him too hard, I don’t feel like doing swaps between the two of you, I’d rather just stick with one. You’re the example today but you’re also really used to thi—.”

    “I’m not a fucking baby, Rose, it’s not like I’m a stranger to this kinda thing,” he interjected sharply enough that she slowed her hand to a halt and retracted it. Well shit, cuddle time over then. “Pick whichever you like best Dave. I can handle it.”

    Those purple eyes watched him, unblinking, studying him close enough that Dirk felt like they were probing into the side of his face. It was hard to blink, to look away. If he didn’t make eye contact in too long was he hiding? Was she waiting for a question? No, she was waiting for an answer to a question she’d asked twice now. What did he want?

    What did he want?

    Could she give him what he wanted, did he even know what he wanted?

    There’d been enough curve balls so far that it was confusing him and his own end goals. He’d be impressed if it wasn’t entirely frustrating. Maybe once they reached the climax of this entire affair it would feel more worthwhile.

    Dave rummaged and rustled till he whipped out a black bag with a white cord and slid it open to reveal the well made silicone toy it contained. ...Okay, maybe that was a little intimidating. He’d need some prep for sure if he was supposed to take it as well, but it wouldn’t be impossible, he’d taken larger before. The gentle curve cast in a deep gray was appealing and the way Rose grasped it with practiced ease was even more appealing, slipping it into place on the harness.

    “How are your arms,” she asked, pulling Dirk out of his head as she worked, Dave heeled at her side to kiss along her thigh and occasionally bite with gentle presses of those teeth he loved so much.

    “Kind of sore from laying on them,” he said. “Not numb of severe pain but.. Discomfort.”

    “Would you like up? Or untied?”

    “I can handle being tied longer,” Dirk insisted, not wanting to show weakness. Rose eyed him immediately to call his bluff, and he could tell she was trying to decide if this was a time to override his insistence that all was well or to roll with what he said. Apparently she rolled with it because she kept quiet as he continued to talk. “But I’d like up, yeah.”

    “Dave? Go ahead and play with Dirk for a second while I get this ready. You already know how to make him happy, have some free range while he gets upright,” she said with a wave of her hand before focusing on the harness and toy as if the mostly attached unit needed far more work than it appeared. This was an engineering issue. Did she want it in tandem with another toy? Something to rub against her clit or vibrate? Did she want to buzz Dave and Dirk while fucking them? She intended to fuck both of them, not just the one.

    Warm, familiar lips covered Dirk’s own within a few seconds as Dave bounced up atop him from the floor, holding either side of his face still to kiss him deeply, wet, open mouthed kisses that blended together and blurred their edges. Dirk could taste traces of himself on Dave’s tongue, and he knew for damn certain Dave could taste Rose. Somehow that just made it all the more delicious as they started to rock their bodies together, caught in the moment and bit of fencing till they heard Rose clear her throat.

    Ah, fuck. Right. His hands. That was what they were meant to be doing, getting pressure off of his hands and stopping the sense of trapped blood in his arms that had just begun. Dave pulled himself up and off just enough to scoot further back on Dirk’s legs before tugging him upwards by the ropes for another kiss as he settled on his lap. No complaints from Rose meant more heady kisses, more of Dave’s fingers in his hair and his teeth at his neck, more pressing their chests together like they wanted to crawl into each other’s skin somehow rather than be potentially pulled apart again. Every time Dave’s cock brushed his own it felt like lightning in his veins, and the sense of whiplash only grew ever stronger when he noticed Rose was pulling the harness on and into place to add the healthy sized appendage to herself firmly as she could. He saw a patch on her inner thigh catch a flash of light and couldn’t be bothered to feel a sense of smugness.

    Of course she was turned on. Everyone in this room was hot and bothered, but you wouldn’t know it from her features. She looked serene and unaffected safe for a telltale flush to her features and the wet spot that would no doubt get more noticeable once she put that dick to good use. Dave turned in his lap to eye her with interest, and it made Dirk’s heart ache that he clung tight to keep kissing him for longer instead of immediately dancing off of him at the promise of getting wrecked.

    The flavors had blended enough on their lips that it stopped being noticeable, started to become an average, mellowed tang in the air that reeked of sex. Dirk wanted to tug Dave’s hair, wanted to pin him down and put his fingers in his mouth, wanted to bend him in half and rest his legs up on his own shoulders and plow into him till he screamed.

    … Yet he also wanted Rose to pet him again.

    He wanted Rose’s soft, soothing voice and gentle petting, sweet touches and praise over and over as the bar was set incredibly low despite it being set for him. He wanted that almost as much as he wanted her to choke him while calling him a whore and the stark differences just made his dick hurt even more when Dave finally crawled off his lap. Where was it coming from? She’d asked him what he wanted, but now that he even knew what he wanted he could never admit it.

    Fuck, would she not do it if he didn’t say it? Would he just wind up getting cock teased the entire time and left to blueball it out while she did the example sub bullshit with Dave? Would Dave be the one to finish him off or would it be the photo finish jerkoff session with partly numb hands the second he was untied when it was too much to keep dealing with? Would Rose ride him and leave him squirming, or would she milk him dry while hammering his prostate? Lust ate at him in a way that Dirk wasn’t entirely comfortable with, not used to this degree of wanting someone, of wanting something he could only half understand and explain beyond a gut feeling and a concept of desire. It felt like powerlessness.

    “Dirk, go up to the head of the bed and sit quiet for me. Dave? On your knees. Get close as you’d like to Dirk up there, but keep off his dick or I’ll slap you senseless.”

    Dirk groaned under his breath at the casual threat and watched his lover like a hawk as he scooted backwards to the head of the bed and Dave slipped to the center. Once he was on all fours he splayed his knees and sank down a bit, knowing there wasn’t much in the way of a height discrepancy between he and Rose as it was. Just enough lowering to let her work, to get the best possible angles and speed comfortably. They made a cute pair as she climbed up behind him and took off her bra, lush breasts drooping comfortably against the front of her chest and swaying as she leaned to get some spare lube for the silicone beast she sported, a pair of nearly identical opposites. Dave rested on his elbows tantalizingly close to Dirk’s dick and kept glancing upwards at him from beneath his bangs with a hungry look in his eyes, trying to fuck him with vision alone so provocatively that Dirk could practically feel him riding on his lap in some close encounter with a separate reality brushing against their own at a thinned point in the veil.

    Rose bent forwards once she’d slicked her dick up, kissing a line up Dave’s spine as reverently, tenderly, leaving a pale ash of her lipstick in a tree along the vertebrae. He rose up onto his palms again and arched his back to let her kiss further, all the way to the side of his neck where she bit him a few times. Dave moaned aloud as she took him by the back of the head and shoved him down into the mattress as hard as she could, easing up enough to let him turn his head as she lined up with his hole and began to ease in.

    “That’s right, take all of it for me Dave. You’ve had bigger from me you greedy bitch, just let it in nice and easy like you always do,” she crooned, living for how Dave responded beneath her with micro-movements and twitches, panted breaths and the barely there hints of a moan. Rose wasn’t usually much for dirty talk, but she’d picked up the habit specifically for Dave in small doses, rolling with what felt natural at the time instead of trying to force something. When they’d patiently slipped about half the toy in, Rose rocked her hips back and withdrew a few inches before rolling them forward once more to sink even further inside. She traced her hand from Dave’s upper body to his narrow hips, bracing him carefully as they continued to do the back and forth dance of making him take every inch of what he’d selected as his own fate.

    As Dirk’s fate too, he remembered once he noticed Rose had started to stare at him. Smirk at him. The challenge was there loud and clear: is this what you want? Do you want more? Will you ask? Can you ask? Dirk didn’t know for sure if he could ask or not, but the incentive was nice. Unable to touch himself he clenched his fists behind his back and watched his lover adjust and relax in waves of sensitivity till at last Rose’s hips were flush with his ass. She cooed softly and rubbed the sides of his thighs and hips, his lower back, then around front to the barely there bulge of his abdomen.

    “So pretty. Doing such a good job for me, Dave, such a good boy doing so well. Are you ready? Let me know. Do you want it like usual?”

    Dave nodded into the bedding before he found his voice, clearing his throat a few times before croaking out a shaky “Yeah” loud enough that they could both hear it. Dirk glanced to Rose’s eyes again and found her already looking at him again, smirking. Knowing.

    “Okay then,” she said as she gave an appreciative squeeze to his thighs and straightened up again to start moving.

    The pace was far gentler than what Dirk was expecting. It caught him by surprise just how tenderly they moved together, far more making love than just quick and rough sex. Rose rocked at a decent pace and occasionally flicked her hips to change the inner pressure against Dave’s insides, and Dave clung to the bedding to keep himself from moving beneath her thrusts. They both made breathy sounds and loving murmurs, though Dave’s were already far less coherent when she eventually picked up speed. Skin hitting skin rang out and Dirk was surprised to see just how efficiently Rose was keeping up with the physical demands, barely breaking a sweat.

    Made sense. Couldn’t top two men in a row if you weren’t physically prepared to do a lot of fucking.

    Dave cried out suddenly and stole Dirk’s attention again, made him unconsciously try to reach for his dick to stroke himself as Rose found the best angle to hammer along his prostate at and went to town. He sank down further, straining to keep upright as she continued to rough him up from behind, occasionally slapping a side of his ass hard enough it left finger and palm prints and Dave melting in place with bliss. Rose leaned forward over Dave’s back possessively to snake a hand beneath his hips to catch his cock was a lovely sight, nipples dragging either side of his spine before being pressed flat between their bodies as she slowed just a fraction. Her hand needed some of her effort now, working his length hard and thorough.

    “Come for me, Dave. You’re doing so good, you did such a good job. Come for me now,” she panted, grin breaking wide when he tensed and cried out again, clawing at the bedding before bowing his back. He came hard from the look of things, the top of the bedding streaked with white before even more leaked out to form a small puddle beneath him. Rose milked him through his orgasm ‘til the most intense part had passed and he became overly sensitive beneath her, shivering as Rose removed her hand and held him close to her chest. She carefully pulled out and let Dave roll to his side to catch his breath, dazed and finally satisfied.

    Dirk envied him for about ten solid seconds before Rose was crawling forward on her knees towards him, silicone dick swaying generously in the harness as she planted her palms on either of his thighs to get right up in his face.

    “Last chance,” she said. “Talk to me.”

    Dirk’s heart hammered in his chest as he weighed his options. Take whatever option came with not talking, not telling, or talk and do as she says and ostensibly have a better time for it. Give and take, but it felt like giving a hell of a lot for what he could only hope would be taking a good amount back. Wetting his lips, Dirk lifted his chin.

    “I’ll take whatever you want to dish out.”

    “That all?” Rose asked. He could feel her nails turning to bite into his flesh, testing him and his limits. “I’m all ears, Dirk, but not for long.”

    “Whatever it is, I can handle it,” Dirk said. Then after a moment’s hesitation, he glanced to the side. “...I can probably handle the rest, too.”

    The biting nails stayed where they were, hard enough he wondered if he’d just have crescents in his skin or small traces of papercut thin lines of blood. Was that not clear enough? Was that not what she wanted? He glanced back onto to see Rose staring at him flatly, unimpressed.

    “What? Wrong answer?”

    Rose lunged forward like a dog preparing to bite his face so suddenly that honest on God he flinched back to avoid her running into his nose at top speed. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him.

    “Is this what you really want, Dirk? Tame answers, promises I’ll fuck you senseless as rough as I can and cuddle you to my tits afterwards, or are you wanting to actually work for what you want?” The frown gave way to a curled smile. “Dave’s earned what he gets plenty of times over. He’s a good boy. I’ve seen you try to be a good boy for me, but I’m pretty unconvinced. I think you’re still the same self important prick you always are, wanting to have his cake and eat it too.”

    “What do you mean?” he asked, dick fit to burst on his lap. If he came now he’d never live it the fuck down, hold on just a bit longer, Jesus fuck.

    “I mean I think you still want to prove your point, because it’s a very Dirk thing to do, and you’re not subtle about it. Same as you’re not subtle at all about being thirsty for what I can do. As you are right now I’m unconvinced you won’t just take my best then twist it into not being enough so you can rebound with your own example on a higher step.”

    He frowned. “How do I convince you then? I don’t want to do that, I’m willing to approach this on even territory for now.”

    “Beg for it,” Rose said without missing a beat. When Dirk immediately leaned further back she pursued till Dirk was plastered against the headboard proper and Rose was riding over his lap, silicone dick digging into his abdomen stubbornly between them.

    “Beg for what , for what I already admitted I could handle?”

    “No. I want you to beg for what you want, Dirk. I won’t be doing a damn thing till you beg for you like a good little bitch and admit I’m the one calling all of the shots well enough that you’re reduced to begging for it instead of it just being delivered to you on a silver platter.”

    “I worked on Dave!”

    “Working on Dave is easy when it’s what you did, though I’m sure he appreciated every second of it.”

    “I also ate you out! Doesn’t that count for good work done?”

    “You stopped early enough I worried you’d passed out.”

    “Yeah, well, I didn’t. I was tired.”

    “And I’ve had better, funny how that works out,” she snipped before covering Dirk’s mouth in a kiss that ranged from gentle leading in to nearly teeth clicking intensity before they pulled apart to catch their breath. “Beg for me and I’ll follow through as good as I’ve been given. Tell me things to avoid.”

    “Don’t suddenly take a dump on my chest and we’re good,” Dirk grunted. “But I was being genuine before: I can take whatever you can dish out. The rest too.”

    Rose slipped off his lap and adjusted herself before grabbing the ropes that held Dirk’s arms in place behind him, physically throwing him to the side so he landed on his back with his long legs dangling over the edge of the bed as he looked up at her, startled. Her hair had fluffed up a bit wilder, a few strands hanging in her face as she planted her hands on her hips and stared down at him. The predatory look had returned, and intensified as she crawled up his thighs, up over his waist, to perch right ahead of his dick. He could feel a streak of precome rub against one of her ass cheeks and cool on impact, the bit of pressure tantalizing as it was before he realized she was sinking down to align his length with the crack of her ass. A few steady, pressure filled rubs and he was nearly gone.

    Her hands snaked up to his throat then, thumbs placing pressure directly over where his air supply passed on either side, and pressed down steadily. While Dirk could still breathe it was being impaired significantly beneath Rose’s solid grip, and his eyes widened when realization kicked in. She was choking him based on his earlier explanations, something that he hadn’t entirely realized he was into till Rose did it. Something about her soothing concern and caution mingling with the getting in his face and beneath his skin was intermingling nicely in his brain. He was at risk, this was something that if done in another way could hurt his throat, but Rose knew what she was doing. He trusted Rose. He trusted her to not hurt him worse than he said he could handle. He trusted Rose to only hurt him in the best ways, and then to maybe even kiss that pain away.

    Dave to their sides had rolled to his other side to watch them and was lazily reaching out to stroke at Dirk’s hair in the same petting gesture Rose had been doing before. Soothing and soft was mingling with being choked out, and Dirk twitched as he came against Rose’s ass harder than he could remember coming in quite some time.

    She seemed surprised at first, but slowly reduced the pressure bit by bit till he was breathing normally. Assuming they were done, Dirk sighed and opened his mouth to thank her for the new discovery, but was cut off.

    “Ready to come, then?”

    “I uh. ...I just did.”

    “Yes. Once,” Rose said with a smirk. “I’d hardly call that done. Especially since I didn’t give you permission to, and off you shot like a rocket just from a bit of breathplay and a nice ass.” She pressed a kiss to Dirk’s cheek before murmuring up by his ear. “Predictable. Weak move... Are you ready to beg for me, Dirk?”

    Boy was he fucking ready. Shit already felt great and there was one more round to go, he had to see it through for all it could be instead of half assing a second of it. Dirk sang like a canary as Dave grinned and pet him in the hazy afterglow of what he’d already experienced, leisurely coming down while Dirk was still ramping up for one last rodeo with the remnants of his previous erection.

    “Let me have it, Rose. Fuck me up. Knock the shit outta me, I don’t care,” Dirk said. “Just kiss it better afterward. Pet me like Dave. I want all of it.”

    Rose and Dave shared a look, surprised he actually complied but very pleased nonetheless. When Dave stopped petting him, Rose gave him another tender kiss and hummed as she pulled away, swinging her leg up over his body to climb off and to her feet at the side of the bed. She slipped up between Dirk’s parted thighs and tugged him closer to the edge of the bed before he got the idea and lifted his legs on his own to leave himself exposed for her. The erection still hadn’t gone down, apparently ready and raring for the next round as he was verbally, orange eyes expectantly watching Rose as he rode on the discomfort of his arms. Pain, but not more than he could take. Not more than he kind of enjoyed as his fingertips tingled behind him in the mattress.

    She cupped Dirk’s hips before teasing at his entrance with the toy’s head, humming still as if in thought.

    “Dirk.. Do you think you can take this without extra prep..? Plenty of lube of course. But it’s quite a lot,” she said.

    It’d sting. It wouldn’t destroy him, Dirk knew what to do and he trusted Rose to be patient and not just jam it in at the first opportunity. They were both experienced adults. He nodded and bent his knees a little more, letting his knees part.

    “Yeah.”

    Right answer apparently. Rose beamed at him and Dave handed over the lube before returning to rest on his side, toying with Dirk’s hair while they waited instead of petting him, sleepy expression of satisfaction still playing over his face. The lubricant was applied liberally on the toy, and more was added at his entrance, Rose curling her fingers to probe him briefly the same way she’d prepped Dave. Same method but different speeds, she withdrew her hand and rested them at Dirk’s hips after lining up once more and slowly beginning to push inside.

    He exhaled and tried to keep his muscles as loose as possible, relaxing with all his might as Rose entered. ...And entered. ...And kept entering. He’d forgotten just how long the toy really was when it was being shoved inside of a man’s body, observing had shown him the bulge Dave got and yet somehow Dirk was still surprised at just how much there was to take. It just seemed to keep coming at him in more and more intimidating pushes till at long last they were flush together and he was panting his air, sweat slicking his brow.

    Rose loomed over him like a pleased goddess, stroking along the new bump in his abdomen and up the flat planes of his stomach. She tweaked a nipple so hard it stung before repositioning her nails over the top of his ribs, sinking them in a bit before dragging them downwards as if she were a bear marking a tree. Dirk hissed air between his teeth before groaning in satisfaction, savoring every inch she dragged downwards and doing it all over again when she did it to the other side, crossing the very ends of the patterns she’d drawn in the hair below his navel. His skin felt like it was on fire but there was no mistaking the surge of endorphin in his blood.

    “Dave, be a darling and keep his mouth busy for me. Be attentive, though. Don’t choke him, he’ll be moving and it’d be hard to signal like that. Just keep good and close so he can go at his own pace,” Rose instructed before she straightened, grabbed his hips and drew back, slamming home so hard and suddenly that his teeth clicked before he could cry out.

    Jesus Christ, right at the nerves, her aim was goddamn good she stroked it right on the first thrust. The bed sank around Dirk’s shoulders as Dave carefully straddled his head from behind, then seemed to think better of it and settled for scooting close enough to rest flaccid, dribbling dick to the side of his lips and his own hands on the headboard for balance. It was a strange setup but it worked well enough, Dirk opening his mouth to accept Dave and suckle gently as he could once Dave hissed with sensitivity. Gentle, gentle...

    Rose was the opposite of gentle as she set a heavy pace, jostling him this way and that as she used the bed for leverage, putting her back and hips into following through on what Dirk had asked of her. Could she be rougher? Of course she could. She was already thinking of different toys and tools to use next time she could talk Dirk into playing with her and Dave, or even just her if Dave wanted some time to himself one night or another. She wanted to see just how much Dirk really could take without breaking, and what he was like when he did break. It’d take more than one session to really see that out properly though.

    She had a feeling he’d be eager enough for this that the earlier bet might potentially be put on pause, at least for a while. Something something more research needed before a proper ownage could occur something something. Dirk was predictable in some ways and that was just his charm.

    With Dave crooning at him, Rose hammering away at him till his toes curled, and alternating smacking the backs of his thighs and the sides of his hips hard as she could, Dirk was losing a battle he’d only just begun to fight. When he felt that warm hand wrap around his dick and squeeze, doing the same milking gesture in tandem with the staccato of her hips against his ass, Dirk saw white and seized briefly, spilling thinned, barely there semen over Rose’s knuckles. Not enough time had passed to be very effective, but the release had been achieved and he was swimming on cloud nine.

    She let him enjoy it for a few moments, resting her weight on his torso and petting the side of his face, kissing his cheek, his lips, the tip of his nose after Dave pulled back to give him air. Dave stroked his hair and scratched his scalp in gentle motions as he rested curled on his side like a human halo around Dirk’s head. They were all a mess, they were all exhausted by now. Rose grunted when she got up off of Dirk and pulled the toy gently free. On unsteady legs she stood and removed the harness, setting it and the toy aside for proper cleaning afterwards before reaching down and carefully pulling Dirk up by his ropes.

    Dave was the one who untied him, familiar enough with the knots that he could recognize which places held the most tension and support, which ones he could pull to loosen the entire structure quickest to free him. Dirk’s skin was depressed and red where the ropes had bit into him, repeating the intricate knots and lattice work as brightly on his skin as the scratches stood out on his chest. The palm prints from where he’d been slapped were still red, and from how warm they still felt they’d be leaving some kind of bruise behind as well in time. He felt light headed when he could move his arms properly, stretching them to the front to pop his shoulders and move his numbed fingers to get the life back in them. Rose took one arm and Dave took the other, gently massaging the blood back where it needed to go, keeping the ache of return from growing too intense.

    All the while Rose talked in that same soft voice Dirk had grown addicted to, gentle praises and comforting phrases as the backdrop to the new silence in the air now that the sex and moaning had stopped. Dirk could hear the gentle pour of rain outside, pitter patters against the covered glass of the window and the distant sound of cars forming the perfect soundtrack with Rose’s voice.

    He wasn’t sure when Rose moved him again, when Dave shifted them all to the side, but he was glad he went whenever it was. Rose was in the center of the bed on her back in a comfortable position, with Dave cuddled up beside one breast and himself by the other side, free to kiss or touch wherever they pleased. Her hands were on their shoulders and kept straying up to their heads in lazy strokes and pets as she continued to soft speak barely there words like poetry to his soul. They slept well like that for some time, tension having risen to a fever pitch in the moment only to be cuddled away, to the sound of a steady rain storm.

    Dirk didn’t offer Rose a reverse challenge for several weeks. Instead, he made sure to catch her more often when Dave did on the couch, making certain Rose sat in the center so they both could rest a head on her leg. Both eager to be stroked and told just how good they were. How wonderful. How sweet. How loved.

#homestuck #rose lalonde #dave strider #dirk strider #rosedirkdave #dersecest #stridercest #my fic #rose doms everyone as she damn well should

[oh-styles]

Such Beautiful Things: I

Yes, I know, I am just as shocked as you are. 

It’s a bit shorter than what I would have hoped, but just stop complaining and enjoy what I give you. 

Indirect mention of cancer, anxiety and depression.

July 4th, 2016 London, UK

“Harry, for fucks sake…”

At first glance, all you can make out through the harsh glare of the sun peeking through his curtains is the silhouette of a bare bottom a mere few inches from your face, and the faint but budding marks etched across the skin that match your very own fingertips. You first feel the bed shift, and the hustled patters of his feet scampering across the floor with no sense of direction.

“Hey, babe,” his voice is lazy and drawn out, a clear indication to you he’s not been up any longer than you. “Do you have any idea where you threw my pants last night?” You can see him from the corner of your eye, standing stark naked in the middle of his bedroom with a look of complete bewilderment and cowlick standing erect in the middle of his head. “Got quite the arm.”

“Why do you assume it was me?” There’s nothing more you want right now than for this stupid boy to forget his trousers and go back to bed. You’re quite aware of his schedule, and he has no plans till the afternoon where he’d be joining his sister and her friends for lunch, so there is no rhyme or reason why he needs to be up at the crack of dawn for whatever fucking reason he’s mustered up in his mind.

“Well, I wasn’t the one trying to take them off in a hurry.” You can literally hear the smirk in his voice. “Quite impressive, if I can say. Never seen you work that fast before—”

“Please, for the love of God…just shut up.”

So fucking peppy in the morning.

There’s a silence in return, and you hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d decided to spare you the extremely vigorous morning glory that he somehow manages to be without his coffee, and even you can barely hold a conversation with someone before noon.

“Babe?”

“It’s your fucking house, you ballsack—go to your closet and get a new fucking pair if you’re—”

“Babe, I think you’re lying on them.” There’s a gentle poke to your exposed shoulder, and then a second, and by the third you’re flinging the blanket dramatically off your body, and for the second time this morning, you open your eyes to see him standing in front of you, and his soft penis only some mere inches from your face.

“You know I love nothing more than having your flaccid dick in my face first thing in the morning.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me at half seven.”

The man before you, the same man whose balls you had in your mouth only some hours ago, lifts his hands beneath your waist, gently picking you up before snatching his underwear, and plopping you back down on the sheets. There have been worse ways he has woken you up from before the sun has fully graced the horizon, like a beastly snore in the ear or an obnoxious fart, so you know you’re better off with the cards you’ve been given today.

“It’s time to wake up, buttercup – seize the day, and all that.”

“If you say one more word, I am going to seize your face in my fucking pillow—”

It’s a low, breathless chuckle and a grumble of something along the lines of, “Moody li’le thing in the morning,” but you’re caught off guard when a lump of naked flesh falls dramatically down onto the bed, stirring you beneath the sheets. “Gonna wake up for me, love? Gonna stop being a grumpy gills and open your eyes?” He has this way about him, a perfect mixture of just the right amount of compassion and a complete and utter nuisance, that when stirred together just right, is all the fortitude you need to not up and leave him in his bed before his morningwood begins to dig into your thigh. Sometimes you can overlook his obnoxiously jovial early morning glee fest, and it makes days like this that much more tolerable.

“Just another hour, please.” He might be having a nice, joyous afternoon spent with his sister, but your agenda had been worked around specifically for the events that laid ahead.

Events that might have already gone over his head.

“Harry, seriously—”

“Don’t want’ya taking the train—don’t know why you even want to anyway—”

“It’s the only place where I can just sit and think, okay?” You can feel his breath – very much morning breath -  hit the back of your ear, and you can almost see the grimace aching behind his eyes, because despite the conversation the two of you shared the night before, you were quick to dodge his attention by a simple rummage around his bedside table for a condom.

You might’ve distracted him last night, but you have his full, devoted attention now.

“You gonna try and stop me, hm? Smuggle me into your gym bag and take me to lunch with Gem and her gal pals?”

“If I have to, yeah.” He’s lying, and you know it; he might be able to place his opinion on somethings, but he has no right to prevent you from your actions…but all he asked from you was to bring some form of protection. “How about you get your pretty, little bum dressed, and I will make us breakf—”

“Eggs on toast?”

You see the small crinkle grace his cheek, and just like that any trace of early morning irritation had all but begun to fade away.

“Eggs on toast…and some apple slices and OJ.”  You feel his hands fall under the covers and begin to gently pull away from your very much still warm and comforted body. At the most he could at least have brought you a t-shirt to slip into.

“But I don’t like football” And just like that, he got you back.

*

It’s amazing what a pair of sunglasses and a face clean of makeup can do.

It’s really not that often you find yourself out in the public eye without much as a curious glance your way, but today, you’re feeling hopeful. You sit in the corner of the train with an iced coffee in one hand, and a random book you snatched from Harry’s bookshelf in the other; you believe if the content doesn’t grab your attention, at least no one might pay you a nosy glimpse.

You listen in to conversations as they come go, and a part of you begins to envy a piece of every stranger who you’ve not given more than a subtle, quick glance to. Every person sharing this car with you have been unknowingly blessed with normalcy; they don’t have to hide themselves in public to avoid unwanted attention. You envy your past self for taking such times for granted, and you begin to panic that maybe your shit disguise is only bringing more attention to yourself.

“Why is she wearing sunglasses—we’re underground?”

“Could she have that book any closer to her face?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so close to her face if she didn’t have those sodding sunglasses on.”

A part of you rolls your eyes at your own remark. You signed up for this, dumbass.

You hear nothing of the sort, but it doesn’t stop that part of you being self-conscious and weary of the possible inquiries. Maybe you should have let Harry drive you—why do you always deny anytime he tries to do something nice and out of his way for you? You’re so selfish.

You think back on breakfast, and how he kissed your cheek before you left, sneaking in a granola bar into your purse in case you got hungry on your ride back, and you feel your heart swell.

“Text me when you get there, okay? You know I worry about yeh.”

Maybe you should stop giving him reasons to worry about you.

I could walk around with a bodyguard strapped to my chest and he would still worry about me.

Then maybe you should invest in that bodyguard for when you travel by yourself in a place where you could easily get spotted?—

SHUT UP.

You sit back, pulling out your headphones from your purse—of course they’re tangled—and you let the passersby quickly fade out into the mellow strumming’s of Landslide. Your mom loves this song, and you quickly swallow away a knot in your throat when you remind yourself that will soon be past tense.

*

“Fourth of July shirt?” Gemma inquires, smirking through the camera lens of her phone as her brother, with a tightly knit perplexity to his brows, glances down at his shirt.

“What do you me—” Oh.

“Feeling festive for your half-American girlfriend or summat?”

“Summat like that.” Harry admires the stars that adorn his top, and flicks his eyes back up to his sister with a glint in his eyes. What had actually happened, was the top he was supposed to wear today, you had snubbed from his closet the day before, so once you left for the train station earlier that morning, Harry had snatched the first thing he could find from his wardrobe before running out the door. “She said she’ll be back for drinks tonight. Went to see her mum for the afternoon.”

Gemma knows, but she doesn’t pry. A part of her understands all too well these days, so she just lightly nods her head and leans over to grab a slice of pizza.

“Well, she’s always welcome, obviously. I know mum misses her… You two should try and come out for the weekend if you can.”

“Maybe, yeah. Been filming a lot so it’s tough… And she’s doing a lot of festivals this summer. Leeds and Reading here soon.” He shrugs his shoulders with a small pout. “Maybe next weekend. We can take the train up in the morning—that’s if she will even go on a train again after today.”

“Was it bad?” There was an unexplainable tone to her voice that knows the answer well before her brother dares to even say it.

He hums. “Texted me she thought everyone was staring at her.”

“Well, wouldn’t surprise me any! Put that girl on a train and she’s surprised people were staring at her?”

“I asked her if she wanted me to drive up and get her, but she said it was okay—didn’t want to come in between our time today.”

“You know I wouldn’t mind—”

“That’s what I told her, but she persisted. Like she always does. Always persisting.” He takes a quick swig of his drink and runs a hand through his newly chopped hair. “She said she’d call if she changed her mind, but I doubt she will. Just said it to get off the phone.”

“Don’t take it to heart. It’s hard, you know?”

He shares a knowing glance with his sister and gives her a stern nod. Losing someone you loved was hard, but losing a parent surpassed that, and Harry and Gemma were closer everyday to understanding.

It was an hour later when Harry excused himself from the table, and made a quick dart for the door that Gemma caught a quick flash in her brothers eyes that made her stomach sink. For the duration of their lunch, she forced her smiles and faked her laughs, clinging tight to her phone until she felt the buzz that sunk her heart deeper in her chest.

It’s stage 4.

Harry returned some time later, carefully scooting back into his chair and, despite the ache in his gut, he smiled widely at his companions, but Gemma couldn’t look passed the daunting, pained expression forcing to sit and subside in her brother’s eyes. The same expression that screamed that he was in just as much pain as you were in right now.

“Think she is going to stay with her tonight – catch the train tomorrow morning.” He forced a smile in Gemma’s direction, and reached back out to grab his pint. “Might call it an early night for myself.”

*

When you were smaller, and a scrape to the knee sent you to the floor in tears, there was one woman, who with a single kiss, could take every last bit of pain away. Now, not a single thing in the world could make this better. The pain resonated deep, pulling and tugging at every nerve, and every scratch and stretch and swig only made that little bit of pain rush deeper and deeper until there were mornings every inch of your body pulsed and radiated with such anguish and torment, that not even the sun shining or the birds singing or the small of fresh brewed coffee could pull you from bed.

The pain was different now, but it all felt the same in your skin.

You try to remember every detail now, like how her eyes change colors with the seasons, and how she loves the smell of fresh mown grass, and how she can sit outside for hours on a sunny day with a book and a glass of iced tea, and all would be content in her world. You remember how it feels to hold her hand, and how she falls asleep beside you as you hum along to the Jewel discography playing over her stereo. You remember how she cries when she listens to you sing, her eyes welled up with so much love you feel it’s impossible to feel such a thing.

You remember how warm she feels, and the smell of her perfume, and how she kisses your cheek four times before finally letting go.

You remember how she reminds you to text her when you get back home, just like Harry does. You remember how she watches you walk down the driveway and out of sight from her place in the window, and with every step you take you pray to God that isn’t the last time you see her alive.

But you remember to tell her you love her, and you feel the knot in your throat stumble over your words, because God forbid this be the last time she ever hears you say it.

You pray to God that if you ever bear a child, they never have to succumb to such pain.

*

Later that day, after you stumbled back up the stairs of your shared home and found yourself crawling back into your sheets, it’s Harry who gently wakes you to share you the current events filtering through every news article.

You didn’t bother with your sunglasses, and that was your first mistake, but such subtle details like that didn’t fall through your mind as you go on your train home that morning. You sat in your corner, book in hand, but stared blankly at the pages as you reminded yourself, again and again, that your time was running up. There was this internal clock ticking, counting down to the day, and whenever that was, the world would stop, all would halt, and you would lose the very last person that you had.

You glance up at Harry, but he tilts his phone closer to your view, and that’s when you see it.

You aren’t surprised, but the shot still makes you sick.

There you are sat, hunched over in your seat, with the palms of your hands placed overtop your face as you weep heavy heaves into the sleeves of your jacket. The snapshot reminds you of the photo that went viral of the bride on the tube in the exact same position as you are, and you nearly stop yourself from laughing.

“It’s because I forgot my sunglasses,” you croak, barely reading over the text that the uploader added. “Did you really wake me up to show me this?”

He stares back down at the image, studying your stance, and without saying another word, locks his phone.

You keep quiet over the topic; it all exhausts you, and as much as Harry wants to protect you and hold your hand through this, he is quietly going through the exact same thing, and you don’t want to add gas to the fire.

But your silence is nothing but a headache to him.

He goes to stand back up, brushing a hand through his hair, and casually walks around to the other end of the bed where he plops himself down beside you, and sidles closer to scoot you nearer.

“Harry, I’m fine, you don’t ha—”

“Shh, will you? Just want to love on you some.” You could lie all you want, and he would let you, but he isn’t going to waste a second of his life ever believing it. “I made some lunch if you’re hungry. I’ll bring you up something if you want to chill here today. That’s okay.”

He placed a soft kiss behind your ear and nuzzled up to your neck, and it’s just like that you remind yourself to remember this love, because some heavy, disastrous storms were approaching, and this was the love that was going to stick with you until the rainbow comes.

#cancer mention #famous series #harry styles imagine #harry styles #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #one direction fluff #one direction smut #tw cancer

[simplelinesunfashiond]

Book 1 Snippet

Does anyone else really hate the word "snippet" or is that a Me thing? Anyway, in the midst of all the background bits I've been posting, I've fleshed out a few more scenes for the actual book and I love this one, so here we are skipping ahead a bit in The Singer's Prophecy.

Nathaniel was already pacing when the team arrived and arranged themselves in his living room. By the time they were settled and he'd calmed himself enough to talk to them, Anderson had dozed off in a plush chair near the fireplace. Jackson and Sarra were settled on the floor, leaning half against the wall and half against each other. They spoke too quietly for Sydney to hear, still half dazed and trying to stay awake. Sydney was sure her body was exhausted, but she couldn't feel it. There was only the humming energy under her skin, the crackling buzz in her ears. Nathaniel looked around the room, to Nix last – deliberately, Sydney assumed, but then he didn't say anything. He stepped forward, once, then hesitated, didn't move any closer.

Sydney didn't need to look. She knew how bad it was. Even with the wound knitted closed, it was clear something was wrong. She wished she didn't know what that kind of pain, borne in secret, looked like on a person, but after seeing it in Jackson that first day, she would have recognized it anywhere, on anyone. Even on someone she hadn't believed could be hurt. Especially that. Especially Nix.. And the way he had acted about it was so odd. So secretive that he hadn't even let Tawny tend to him.

Nathaniel sighed, started to say something, started to reach out. Another Guard, a strange one, surely some new employee, interrupted by grabbing his arm.

“Are you sure that's safe, sir?” the boy asked. Nathaniel just stared at him.

“He's not a wounded animal,” Sydney snapped. She could taste the venom in her tone.

The boy held up his hands, a placating gesture, but still moved around Nathaniel to approach Nix, himself. Nix had taken a space on a sofa, but sat curled over, most of his face hidden behind his hair. The boy reached out a hand, tentative, like he would to a stray cat, and Sydney felt the disgust coil up inside her.

Nix responded with a sound, a low rumble like an approaching storm that grew louder, into a sort of snarl. He looked up, then, and unleashed a ghastly rasping hiss. The boy scrambled away, and was out the door. There was a beat of silence, before Nathaniel laughed.

“Maybe he won't come back!”

“How rude, wishing that fine young man unemployed,” Nix teased, the first thing Sydney had heard him say since they left.

“I'm just not sure he's cut out for the job, is all. So, changing the subject. You did something, didn't you?” The accusation was sudden, sharp, the laughter gone from his voice.

Something clicked together in Sydney's mind. The residual sense of magic, the thing Nix had been hiding from them. She had refused to think about the choice he had made, but a too-large part of her was glad to find out.

Nix shifted, undid the zipper on his jacket as the room watched him. The bundle of material he removed from its safe hiding place wriggled and cooed. Sydney hurried over, needing to know for real, needing to see.

“Nix?” Nathaniel asked, his voice a little loud in the hushed room. He paused, swallowed, then continued. “What is this?” He leaned over to look, as Sydney did, but when the wiggling infant gazed up at him, he jumped back. Sydney managed to stay calm, gazing into yellow eyes like a viper's.

“She's a serpent,” Nix said, sparing the briefest glance at each of them before his attention returned to the child.

Her eyelids were scaled, and glittered opalescent in the light. She reached a tiny hand up, flexing tiny fingers with claws, the same shimmering semi-translucent material as the scales. She got a hold of Nix's hair, but didn't quite tug on it, just held on and cooed at him again.

“You stole a baby dragon?” But really, when she wasn't looking at you, Sydney thought, it was hard to remember she even was a dragon. She was just a baby, with dark curls and tan skin and a big excited toothless smile and a fistful of the hair of another creature who really did seem especially human just then, too.

“I wasn't going to leave her,” Nix said.

“And you intend to keep her.” And that. Well, yes, that was definitely different.

Nix's gaze snapped up, sharp as he could move without startling the bundle in his arms. “Look, I'm not here to ask for your help, so you don't need to worry about this. I can handle it. We don't even have to stay here, if it makes you feel better.”

Idiot, Sydney thought, but managed not to say out loud.

“Dumbass,” Sarra said perfectly clearly, before taking a sharp nudge from Jackson.

Nathaniel just stared a moment, a thin line forming between his eyebrows, and then sighed. He reached out and carefully shifted the baby's weight into his own arms, coaxing her tiny dainty claws away from Nix's hair. Sydney heard, felt more than saw the glimmer of something sad wash over each of them, and almost asked about it.

“Miss Thompson,” Nathaniel said. “Do me a favor and make sure this man gets some medical attention. He'll need to rest up.” He stopped, then smiled, laughed to himself, and Sydney couldn't help but smile back at the implication. While he can.

#wip: the singer's prophecy #wip:tsp #snippet #amwriting #writeblr #excerpt

[ghostiesfiles]

Thantophobia — The Fear if Losing Someone You Love (Shyan)

A Mob/Lawyers au. Night Night Bergara and Legs Madej will exist in this. If you’d rather read it on archive of our own feel free. Hope you all enjoy 💛

CHAPTER 9 (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

It was like playing a video game, that dissociative haze that tells the body and mind everything is just a figment of the imagination… Except it wasn’t. Not this time.

This time it was real. This time the blood pumping through his veins, the sound of it in his ears, the shakiness of his fingers… It was all because his friend was a bloody mess in his living room.

Shane’s hands worked on auto-pilot, placing the first aid supplies back in his bathroom. His shoes tapping on the dark mahogany floor seemed so distant, the memory of a sound once familiar.

Ryan lay, now shirtless, across the couch. His face contorted in pain, hands clutching the couch cushions. Dark, syrupy blood had dried down the contour of his Adonis belt as fresher, redder blood trickled down the curves of his abs. The worst part of all, though, was just beneath his left set of ribs, a bright pink, muscly streak of skin was just gone, framed with clotted blood and torn flesh.

“S-Shane–”

“Don’t talk,” Shane demanded. His voice was bitter, it was betrayed and angry and confused. A part of him reasoned that he was being selfish, but… God dammit he hadn't wanted his hunch to be right!

Shane glanced at his open laptop, wiki-how articles on cleaning bullet wounds and tending to serious cuts still illuminating the screen. He picked up a cloth, it was damp with hydrogen-peroxide and smelled like a hospital.

“Gah! Shit!” Ryan hissed, a hand instinctively gripping Shane’s arm as the taller man pressed the rag against his skin. The other hand was curled around a black piece of material…

Shane knew it all too well. He knew his suspicions were dead on–maybe the wrong choice of words in this situation… or perhaps just the right ones. He knew the chills dragging down his back weren’t from the whistling wind but from some unexplainable gut feeling. A sense too strong to ignore.

Shane set the cloth down, trading it for a wet paper-towel and cleaning off the crimson stains.

Ryan writhed under his touch, agonized whimpers trailing off his tongue. He grit his teeth, turning his neck away as if to escape his friend’s touch.

Shane pulled back, tossing the used napkin into the nearby bin. He picked up a large piece of gauze and gently, tenderly, taped it into place. He moved to pull his hand away, but his movement stuttered.

Ryan was cover in exhausted shock-induced sweat, his cheeks flushed, and lips parted daintily. His eyes rested closed, hands limp at his sides.

Shane’s gaze went back to that damn black fabric. He hesitated, arm extended in midair, before placing a gentle hand atop Ryan’s. He waited, just a few seconds, just long enough to seem comforting before tearing it from his friend’s grasp, another item tumbling to the ground.

Ryan bolted upright, wincing at the sudden shift, “Shane, wait!”

“Dammit, Ryan!”

He was right. Of course, he was right. The black ski mask that he had worn when they killed Keith… It was still discolored from the blood.

Shane’s eyeline darted to the ground, a dark blue USB lay between the couch and the coffee table he was currently sitting atop. He looked back to Ryan, back to the drive, and back to Ryan, who, now also seemed aware of the USB’s presence.

“…Shane.” It was a warning. An unheeded warning, because despite Ryan’s closeness, Shane was well bodied.

The taller man swiped it from the ground, Ryan’s touch grazing the back of his hand.

“Is this what you’re killing for? Hm?” He pushed himself off the table, towering over his injured friend.

Ryan’s shoulders gave out, the rise and fall of his well-sculpted chest faltering. “What?” He seemed almost dejected. Almost betrayed.

“You know what! You’re fucking ‘Night, Night,’ aren’t you?” Shane glowered, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You with all your, ‘we’re gonna be alright’ and ‘till death do us part’ bullshit, huh?”

Ryan’s brows knitted together and he backed himself into the indent of the couch.

“The question is why? What’s on here that you need so desperately?” Shane turned his attention to the laptop and slid the device in.

“Shane–I don’t fucking–I don’t know what’s on the drive!” He ran a hand through his hair, the gelled ends sticking up oddly. “I just! Shane, listen to me!” He barked.

The taller man stiffened, an expression that he only ever used to mask his emotions. It was the same look he’d use when he thought they were losing a court case. It was the same look from Keith’s house. The same look from when Ryan said Norris was on to them.

“Where... Where did you get these? Did you know? Were you in on it?”

Ryan shook his head, “Shane, I don’t–”

He turned the computer screen towards Ryan.

Staring back at the pair, in grainy black and white was—

“You piece of shit.” Ryan glowered.

Shane scoffed, placing a hand over his chest, “Excuse me?”

“You hypocritical piece of shit! You’re over here preaching to me about the blood on my hands when you’re working with the same crooks that got us into this mess?” Ryan threw his arms out, mockingly.

“You’ve fucking killed people! Plural! I wasn’t working with anyone! And besides, me breaking into a crime scene to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind doesn’t fucking compare to your heartlessness!” Shane glared, disdain dancing in his fiery, amber eyes.

Ryan’s shoulders went weak, his body collapsing in on himself, head shaking pitifully. “You… You… You went on your own? You went to… to… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just-I,” He covered his mouth with a gloved hand, to keep the sobs from escaping. “The mob made me, Shane. They made me do it, and now they’re trying to get me caught!”

The brunet’s eyes softened. They had been threatening Ryan, too? The snakes had both of them pinned to the wall? But what about this drive? Didn’t Ryan know that he was apart of their scheme?

“I didn’t want to! I didn’t! I– fuck. I… God, I didn’t mean to… I’ve fucked up, Shane! And now that I’ve refused to kill Fulmer the-they’re trying to get me caught!” His breathing became frantic as if just out of his reach, “They called the cops on me, Shane! They called the fucking police!”

Shane was frozen in place, he wanted to comfort his friend, but… Was this all an act? Was the mob trying to play him further? The paranoia clawed down his back, and he rolled his shoulders to fight the feeling.

Ryan blubbered incoherently, shaking his head, and gritting his teeth together. “I just…”

“Ry, hey! Hey…” The taller man gave in, sliding onto the couch with his partner, his friend, before pulling him into a tight embrace.

They had never been big on platonic physical contact. They would fist bump and high five but, save from that, they rarely touched.

Shane had always been a touchy person, he always liked to drape an arm over his friends’ shoulders, to hug, to place his hands on someone’s lower back while guiding them, to cuddle for warmth, etc. It was just the way he had been brought up.

Ryan, however, was the Mega Bro™ and that meant NO to all of Shane’s platonic advances. Of course, Shane never had a problem with that, he respected his friend's boundaries and if anything it helped him hide his feeling when they first met, but… It was odd to not be able to express something with more than a nod of the head or clap on the back.

So, when Shane pulled his weeping, shaking friend into his arms he was fully prepared to be pushed away, instead, he was pulled closer.

Ryan tugged at his shirt, burying his face into the creamy fabric. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He mumbled, over and over on loop. “They… Shane, they have a video of you confessing to killing Keith.”

“What?” No. No, that couldn’t be! He would never do anything so rash, nothing that could tie him or, God forbid, Ryan to this whole mess.

“You were on the phone with Andrew, and he coerced it out of you…”

“Fuck…” A somber silence fell over the pair.

Ryan wiped the tears from his eyes, head still nestled into the crook of Shane’s neck.

Shane rubbed delicate circles over his back. “They’ve been blackmailing me with those photos,” Shane nodded towards the laptop, “the ones on the drive.”

Ryan choked on his spit, pushing himself to be at eye-level with Shane–or as eye-level as he could be. “W-what?”

Shane looked away, a pathetic smile on his lips, “I just wanted to make sure I, er, we hadn’t left anything behind but… Andrew called… He said he had these photos and if I wanted them hidden I had to, uh, to press people for information.” He risked a glance at Ryan, his eyes big and doe-like. Their glassiness sparkling in the dim lamplight. “They’d catch ‘em, keep ‘em in holding until I could meet at some abandoned location. It–the location, I mean–it’d change each time so I wouldn’t be able to say anything to the cops, or whoever.” He licked his lips anxiously, “Uh… And then I’d have to get information out of them…”

“Holy… Holy shit.” Ryan slid himself out of Shane’s grasp, not far but just enough to signify his disgust. “You-you tortured people?”

He didn’t answer, instead keeping his eyes on his hands.

“You really are a hypocritical piece of shit.”

“You killed 7 people, Ryan!” Shane glowered, pushing his own person away.

“… 8… now.” Ryan didn’t move, too scared to look at the expression on his best friend’s face. A grim glaze casting over his complexion.

“But they… they made you? …The mob?” Shane didn’t even have to ask, not when the regret and trauma were so blatantly written across Ryan’s face.

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly, “…You were just so scared Tuesday, and I couldn’t live knowing you had any uncertainty, especially if I had left something. So, I decided to make a deal–a dumbass deal, but a deal nonetheless–that if they tidied up the crime scene I’d… do something for them in return.”  Ryan pushed himself off the couch, a gasp escaping him, and a hand falling to his gash. “They really held me to it.”

“… You sent the mob to the sight? For me?”

Ryan shrugged, “For you, for us, it doesn’t matter! I didn’t want either of us getting caught!”

Shane smiled, the sincerity and joy contrasting heavily from this situation. He shook his head, chuckles floating from his lopsided grin.

Ryan raised a brow, “What?”

“We both… We both checked the crime scene? Both risked our asses for this fucking criminal empire because we decided to, in some way or another, check the god damn crime scene!” The last laugh far more contemptuous. A bitter irony.

Ryan collapsed back into the couch, “Shane, I’m so–”

“No. I should’ve trusted you… I should’ve… I should've trusted you when you said not to take Bennett’s fucking case!”

Ryan placed a hand on Shane’s knee, his eyes staring up at him adoringly and apologetically.

Shane frowned, taken aback by the affection.

The shorter man noticed the flash of surprise and moved to pull away, but Shane placed his hand atop Ryan’s, smiling.

“Shane,” Ryan spoke somberly, “We’re in this together.”

“Till death do us part, baby.”

Ryan hesitated, eyeing the small plastic device that was jammed into the USB port.

Wordlessly, Shane picked up the laptop and closed out of the photos. There was one other item on the device, a document.

Ryan reached his free hand out and clicked on the mouse.

A document with three lines popped up.

“It’s gibberish? Literal gibberish.” Shane mumbled.

“No… That-that can’t be,” Ryan took the laptop from Shane, his hands hot to the touch and the brunet shuddered involuntarily.

Ryan’s dark, almond eyes flickered across the screen. His lips were pursed, brow scrunched together, thoughtfully. “Ha, I… I can’t believe it. They really did want me to get killed over nothing!” His eyes were wide and frightened, desperate.

Shane’s heart beat a bit faster at that look, “No… Ry, they wanted you to get you killed with photos of me. The other one is probably supposed to look like a corrupted file.”

Ryan’s eyes, dilated in the dim light, flickered with fear, and something else Shane couldn’t quite identify. “Fuck.” He pushed the laptop aside, letting his elbows collapse onto his knees.

“They’d get two birds with one stone.” He placed a hand on the younger man’s bicep, running it up and down, mindlessly. “They’d make the whole thing look like you were trying to keep me out of trouble.”

Ryan’s mouth was held in a small ‘o,’ a sinking feeling nagging away in the pit of his stomach.

“But it’s okay now! You’re safe! You’re safe with me!”

He was right. Obviously, he was right, but something about the whole set up made even Shane think otherwise. They weren’t safe. Ryan wasn’t safe anymore. The very men who were using him had turned their knight into a pawn, which, quite frankly, was against the rules of chess.

Shane couldn’t stop staring at his friend, couldn’t stop thinking about how he hadn’t answered his calls, couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if he had stayed at the bar longer or if the gunman’s aim had been a little better.

A silent tear escaped Shane’s blinking eyes and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. This was SO STUPID! Everything was fine now! Everything was fine! Everything was fine! But it wasn’t! This wasn’t just about Ryan, the mob found him disposable, too! He was just as at risk. They were throwing around those photos and… Oh God, they could be sending them off to the cops at this moment!

“Shane?”

He didn’t respond, he just placed his forehead against Ryan’s, closing his eyes. He listened to the soft breaths escaping the shorter man, trying to ignore the anxiety sinking into his lungs.

Ryan didn’t dare move, his hand floating in midair unsure whether or not to touch Shane.

The taller inhaled deeply, taking in Ryan’s scent. Taking in his warm usual smell of teakwood and basil, but, now, it was tainted with gunpowder, soil, and blood. His hands drifted to Ryan’s thighs, tentative and unimposing. Just a way to steady his weight, or at least that’s what he told himself.

He could hear Ryan gasp faintly, his hand coming to rest on Shane’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I’m so sorry for worrying you. I’m so sorry for not being able to help.”

Ryan shook his head as much as the situation at hand would allow, “Shane, don’t apologize. You couldn’t have known this would happen.” He paused, “This all Satan’s fault, anyway.”

Shane chuckled, “This is beyond the devil, Ry.”

“Ha, no, no, I mean…” Ryan smiled halfheartedly, “The other mobster, the nameless one, it’s his fault.”

Shane pulled away, his eyes fixing on Ryan’s. “What did you say?”

“You know, the one in charge? Andrew’s superior?” His breaths were warm and gentle against Shane’s cheeks. Eyes watching for any sign of remembrance.

“You’ve spoken to him?”

Ryan pulled fully away, “You… haven’t?”

“No. I’ve been dealing strictly with Andrew.”

Ryan ran a hand across his mouth, “Okay… Okay…” He picked the laptop back up, eyes skimming the words over and over. It still was nonsensical. Still, just a jumble of symbols reading:

5†59,  36¶8  ;‡   );8¶8*.   -  5*†(8]

Shane knew that look, the glowing-eyed look Ryan held when he thought he cracked a code, “It’s not–”

“Isn’t it? It has to be! Why else include the document? Why fill it with nonsense unless they knew it would be near impossible to crack?!”

“Exactly! Impossible!” Shane exclaimed.

“No, near impossible.” Ryan corrected, the corners of his mouth quirking up a bit, “What if we do it, Shane? What if we nail ‘em to the wall?”

He tried to hide it, he really did, but the vengeful smirk playing at his lips, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Ryan hummed, caught up in his malicious thoughts, “If we crack this, if we play up this part of obedient servant…”

“Then we’ll have them like sitting ducks.” Shane nodded, “We just need to figure this out… But how?”

Ryan rubbed his hands together, eyes retracing the characters on the dim screen, “See that series,” he pointed to the );8¶8*, “I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

Ryan laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “When I… When I first tried to get in touch with the mob, to try and have them wipe down the house I may or may not have broken into Norris’ office and snooped through her files.”

“You did what?!” Shane gawked, wide-eyed.

“I know, I know, but I didn’t want you to be concerned with anything. So, I figured that was the fastest way I could get contacts.” Ryan smiled bashfully, guiltily.

“Okay… So, where did you see that?” He nodded at the word, if you could call it that.

“I read one of Keith’s statements,” Ryan toyed with his fingers as he spoke, “It had a list of potential involvements… That symbol was next to a crossed out name.”

“Do you think… that crossed out name could be this set of symbols?”

“It’s a start,” Ryan shrugged.

“And let’s say it is. Then what?” Shane inquired.

“Then we can backtrack. We can google what codes use these symbols for those letters. It’ll also help us figure out what eights and asterixis translate to.”

“You’re brilliant, Bergara,” Shane admitted, his eyes slipping from Ryan’s.

See, that was the thing with them. Shane was physically affectionate, all bite and no bark while Ryan, on the other hand, was all words. All compliments and loving comments. Shane never really commented on his affections for Ryan because… Well, if he did in any way tried to articulate how great he believed his friend to truly be, it would fall out in sarcastic tones and snide remarks.

But here, here in the dim light of his living room, his friend and business partner badly wounded, the two of them trying to escape the powers that held their lives on a string… Here he felt vulnerable in every sense of the word, and he wanted to be honest.

Ryan blushed, a deep rosy shade, his eyes danced with disbelief, and… Was he getting closer?

Shane’s breath caught in his throat and his heart drummed, for the first time in what seemed like forever, out of something other than fear. Shane’s eyes flickered over the dewiness of Ryan’s skin, the soft shadow of stubble across his chin, the warm almost purple tones in his deep mocha eyes. He inched closer. His fingers crawled forward cautiously, his index finger brushing against the shorter’s knee.

Ryan batted his eyes, slowly, his movements languid.

Shane could almost feel Ryan’s breath on him again, could almost inhale his intoxicating scent, could almost–

Three heavy knocks rang out from the front door.

Both men turned, silently, towards the sound, their contact now protective, hands tightening as if to guard the other from harm.

“Shane Madej, this is the police!”

#shyan #skeptic beliver #shyan fan fic #shyan fic #skeptic believer fic #skeptic believer fan fic

[themidnightrose]

“Kill Midnight, The White Knight...”

“Boys and girls, we've got ourselves another holier-than-thou white-knight who needs putting down. Here are the details: Name: Midnight Darkness Race: Caucasian Sex: Female The bounty is 1000 caps this time around. And for a change of pace, they want the head this time. Good hunting!“

She stands over the Talon Merc’s bodies, panting. The girl has a bullet in her shoulder, scrapes on her hands and knees, and her ears are still ringing from the car exploding behind her. Fiery debris crackles in the background as she tries to make sense of the paper in her hand. Why her?

Why is there a hit on her head? What did she do? Was it because she helped out Megaton and the Wilkes kid? Well, that and helped out Arefu with the Family....

Well damn. She’s gaining a rep. A good one too, according to Three-Dog anyways. something about her being a Paladin? Whatever. She shoves the paper in her pocket and checks the Pip-Boy again. Where is she?

Chevy Chase East. Ok. She’s nearly there. thank god. He better know where Matt went. Knowing the dumbass, he’ll wander off somewhere. Let’s go. 

She starts to walk only for her shoulder to flare up in pain. Shit. The bullet. Fuck, this is sooo gonna suck. ok first....um. She needs to tak-

"Clean the wound; you just need something to pull the slug out. A pair of tweezers or forceps would be ideal, but your knife would work. It shouldn't be deep, it went through your armor first.” She has no idea where the weird little nagging voice in her head came from, but it seems to care.

“Moron. Don’t be so damn reckless out here.“

Nevermind. Dick.

 She peels off the top part of her outfit off and roots around in her pack. Pulling out a bottle of vodka, she takes a clean shirt and starts cleaning the wound. Fuck that fucking stings! 

”It’s not supposed to be a kitten kiss. Suck it up buttercup. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can find our idiot of a brother. Now get the damn bullet out.”

"My lucky day, me." She holds up a slim metal instrument and looks at the wound. "Alright..."She trailed away as starts to clean the forceps. "...Let's do this while it's still light out. Bandage the arm up when it's out and we're done."

The wanderer starts swabbing at the skin with a spare rag and a bottle of purified water then injects a Stim above the wound. The flesh and muscle start to knit together, she watches it, still amazed at how fast it worked. Soon it was just a fresh pink puckered scar.

The blood covered forceps rests on the ground next to the used Stim. The bullet was tossed to the bodies, a small fit of pettiness had her do it. Whatever. Lets go.  Midnight stands up and makes her way to GNR, stepping through the rubble and debris.

“I’m coming ya moron.“

#Mid #Matt #Rp #the capital wasteland

[boldlybad]

Caffeine Challenge #28: Fire

For @caffeinewitchcraft‘s Caffeine Challenge #28.

I closed my eyes and breathed in fire. I felt my lungs crackle and burn, the smoke spreading through my body as the world ignited around me.

“No,” Chad screamed, “I won’t let you!”

I clutched the ruby tighter, feeling it pulse and throb in time with my heartbeat. The trees in the clearing around us caught with an emphatic puff of air, more a feeling of being pushed on all sides than a dramatic explosion. I probably should have learned a bit more about fire before I put the ruby into my bag of tricks a few days ago.

But really, I’d known even then if I had to pull the damn thing out, I wasn’t going to be worried much about what came next.

Chad’s armor clanked as he stomped toward me and I pushed the flames between us a bit higher. His unique stench of Axe body spray and sour popcorn wafted toward me. Kill it with fire, Heather giggled in my memory. “Kayla,” he said, trying for exasperated father and sounding more like a constipated Chihuahua, given that he was younger than I was. “Kayla, you’re being irrational. You’re getting emotional. Hysterical. You’re letting your emotions get control of you. Just put the stone down.”

I let my eyes drift open. He was sweating. I permitted myself the smirk I’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

Chad snarled, his lips twisting and his eyes going even more beady than usual. “You fucking bitch!” He reared back, armor sounding like someone had shoved it down a flight of stairs and hurled his stupidly giant sword at me. A claymore, he’d explained over and over, just like the real knights used.

I snorted. The dull, museum quality metal glittered as it sailed through the air, slicing through my circle of flame. I squeezed the ruby again and it bit deeply into my flesh. The sword froze.

I cocked my head. “You know that’s not a real sword, right? Dumbass.” Blue and white crept into the fire around me, licking down the blade and raining sizzling beads of metal onto the grass. The tiny hairs on my arms whispered against my skin as they singed off, and my skin began to blister from the searing heat. Heather would know what temperature steel burned at. Both Fahrenheit and the other one. But Heather was dead.

Chad threw an arm across his face and backed away. “You can’t do that! You can’t do this!” He stomped his foot, sounding like the world’s saddest chorus line. He actually stomped his foot. Ugh. Heather had been the smartest person I’d ever met, and I had no idea what she’d seen in this guy.

“Watch me.”

I locked eyes with Chad and watched his lips quiver. I let my smile grow, let him see how sharp my teeth were. How there were a few extra that the orthodontist hadn’t quite known what to do with. I let him see how badly I wanted to barbeque him in that stupid armor he bought off of eBay and rip the flesh from his bones like my grandmama’s baby back ribs.

“You,” I inclined my head, “are not in a position to negotiate.” I lifted a foot, set it down, and watched my burning circle inch toward him. In the distance I heard screaming, smelled burning tar and plastic, but couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.

“You lost that right.” My rage-fueled fire and I stepped forward, and he scrambled back. “You lost that right when you tried to reincarnate yourself as King Fucking Arthur.” I raised my free hand and slashed the air, green fire lashing out like a whip between us, shaving leaves and branches out of the trees over his head. They crashed around us. “With movie props you bought off the internet.” I cracked the line of flame again, causing him to jump back. We were almost to the burning tree line and I felt my rage building, feeding the huge circles of crackling flame trapping us both in this slice of hell we’d made together.

“You lost that right,” I whispered, “when you killed my girlfriend.”

Chad dropped to his knees. “She was my Nimue,” he wailed. “My Lady of the Lake!”

Fire and smoke licked through my blood. Curled up my spine. I felt it peek from my eyes. “She couldn’t swim, you stupid asshole!”

Orange really does flatter you, Heather had whispered, wrapping a thick, warm scarf she’d knitted with her tiny perfect hands around my neck. I’d ducked my head then, mumbling something about the women in my family not looking good in warm tones. I’d never told her the real reason I’d kept the brightest of my mother’s jewels sealed behind three locks in the box behind my sweaters.

“I’m sorry,” another voice whispered. I opened my eyes again, my beloved floating away on the ash of my vengeance. Chad peered up at me, the lines of his body and the set of his chin too arrogant to grovel properly.

I cocked my head again, letting the green flame wrap around my wrist and char me down to the bone. I wouldn’t need the muscle much longer, and power like this demanded a certain amount of sacrifice. “Are you? Are you really?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Then apologize. Properly.”

His eyes darted around the clearing, as though the soot and smoke might give him a few pointers. “Um. I just did?” He rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

I stared at him. At his arrogant face, at his stupid “I’m going to Yale in the fall, you peasant” haircut, at the shining gorget that was beginning to sear his flesh where it touched his neck. “I want Heather back.”

He shrugged and spread his arms. “Well you did all this, didn’t you?” Chad chuckled and the sound drilled into my brain. “You made some really pyrotechnics.” He began to slow clap, his gauntlets clanging like dented church bells. “Bra. Vo. You know, you could make some serious money off of this. But really. If you can do all this? Bring her back.” He stood and pointed an accusing finger at me. “Bring back my Nimue. Get her to give me the sword and then the two of you can have your little lesbo happily ever after.” Chad spread his arms wide once again, as though he were accepting the nomination for senior class president. “I’ll even let you two ladies visit Camelot, once I’m finished rebuilding.”

“Yeah, no.” I glanced down at my closed fist and watched dark blood stream down into the blackened, singed grass at my feet. “You’re a dick, Chad. Camelot wouldn’t let you muck out their stalls, let alone run the joint.” I forced my fingers open, one bloody digit at a time. I could feel them cracking and popping as they snapped away from the ruby. This little piggy went to market… this little piggy stayed home… this little piggy wrote essays about the goddamn Kill Your Gays trope and was super pissed to find herself living it… this little piggy thought long and hard about vengeance when Heather’s body was pulled from the lake two nights ago… and this little piggy decided she was just fucking done swallowing her pain.

The ruby lay in my palm, pulsing dully. I could still walk away. Put this ruby back in the box, next to the delicate diamond band I’d bought for Heather. That I’d been waiting to give her at graduation. The ruby glowed, another point of light in the blinding, crackling world of flame I’d unleashed.

I looked up at Chad.

“Did you want to see some real magic, little man? I’ll show you some real magic.”

Many, many thanks to @caffeinewitchcraft for organizing a marathon of Caffeine Challenges this long holiday weekend! I... really hadn’t realized how long it had been since I sat down and wrote something. Still super rusty, but I appreciate the opportunity to use structured challenges to at least try to get back on the horse.

#caffeine challenge #caffeinewitchcraft #caffeine challenge 28 #my writing #flash fiction #magic #vengance #original fiction #writeblr #urban fantasy