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writesfic · 3 months

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nick robinson x self-insert

warning: nsfw, kidnapping, restraints, very mild dub-con at the beginning

Flo wakes up slowly, blinking a few times and taking notice of his surroundings. He’s confused by the environment, but he can’t figure out the reason why. He tries to stand up and move around, but restraints keep him in place.

Then, all at once, he realises the situation he’s in and starts to panic. He’s tied to a chair with thick cords of rope around his waist and his wrists behind his back. He’s held in an unfamiliar room: there’s a window at the far side, and he can’t see much from this angle - only the tops of trees and the sky beyond. The room itself is surprisingly pleasant; it’s spacious, well-decorated and gives off a homely vibe. More noticeably, there’s a door that’s tightly shut at the corner of the room.

Flo struggles to remember what he’d been doing before this. He thinks he was at some party or gay club, but the memories after that are completely blank. His head is still too foggy to put the pieces together.

Now that he’s a bit calmer, he tries to ease out of the rope. To his surprise, a few harsh tugs are able to free his arms from the chair. With his hands free, he rips the other parts of the rope off him quickly and stands. Seems like whoever had tied him here wasn’t too thorough with his bindings. He heads over to the door with half a mind to escape, but before he’s able to reach it, the door handle starts to turn.

With the worst case scenario in mind, Flo lets his instincts take control and hides behind the door, psyching himself up to jump the person who walks in.

Sure enough, as soon as the mystery person walks through the door, Flo catches him by the shoulder and pushes him against the wall.

Flo’s about to demand why and where he’s being held, but the familiar face makes him freeze up. Cute parted lips and wide eyes stare up at him. They both look at each other in disbelief, and neither of them say a word, at first.

“You’re Nick Robinson, right?” Flo finally asks, grip falling loose.

He’s not as alarmed, now that he knows the identity of his kidnapper. Still, he has no idea why he’s here, much less tied up in what seems to be Nick’s bedroom.

Nick almost seems prepared to put up a fight against Flo if he tries anything to escape, but the genuine confusion and recognition from Flo seems to sap all the resistance out of him. It’s clear that he’s surprised with how quickly Flo can put a name to his face. Nick suppresses his initial shock and clears his throat, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Yes, I am. I can’t believe you know me, Flo!” he says, a small, apologetic smile growing on his face. “I’m sorry for bringing you home and tying you up, but I’m just your biggest fan, you know? I love your work and the more I watched you, the more I wanted you - I just knew I had to be with you at least once. I didn’t plan for any of this, but I saw you at my usual club out of the blue, and I couldn’t help myself. I just… needed to have you.”

Flo already feels his panic subsiding. It may be a coincidence, but he’s always had the biggest crush on Nick as well. It makes his decision easy, knowing that they actually want the same thing from each other. He walks back to the chair and picks up the rope, before approaching Nick again.

Nick looks at the rope, a little confused and worried, but willing to hear Flo out.

“You know what, if that’s all you want from me…” Flo smirks, placing the rope into Nick’s hands, “I don’t mind being tied up. I’ve had my eye on you for a while too, Nick.”

“R-really? Of course. I’d love that.”

Nick swallows, fingers tightening on the rope, before pushing Flo lightly towards the chair. He secures Flo in the bindings, only stepping back to admire his work once all of Flo’s limbs are tied securely. Flo tests the ropes with a flex of his wrists - they seem to be holding him captive for now.

Flo looks back up at Nick. When their eyes meet, Nick’s control seems to snap. He leans into Flo’s space and kisses him urgently, pressing his mouth hotly against Flo’s and dragging his tongue across parted lips. They kiss for a long while, tongues pulling and pressing against one another in a slow, sensual rhythm, until both their mouths are tingling and numb from pleasure. Nick’s hands sink into Flo’s hair, tugging the roots softly whenever Flo’s mouth moves over his just right.

In all their passion, Flo isn’t sure when Nick climbs into his lap. All he knows is that the hot, shifting weight of Nick’s ass is all pressed up against his crotch, and that the teasing stimulation makes him rock hard. The outline of his hard flesh is clear through the clinging fabric of his pants, and each shift of his hips only makes the tent more obvious.

Despite the clear evidence of his need pressed up against Flo’s stomach, Nick kisses and touches like he has all the time left in the world, as if trying to make this last. Kissing is nice, but Flo’s cock’s starting to ache from the need for more stimulation. When Flo squirms against the bindings impatiently, Nick doesn’t do anything more than suck at Flo’s neck, leaving a long trail of hickies. A complete tease.

“Fuck, Nick. I need you to sit on my cock already,” Flo says.

“You only had to ask,” Nick jokes. Though, he knows that Flo is at the end of his patience and moves things along. “Let me get you ready.”

Before Flo can ask Nick what he means, Nick sinks down onto his knees between Flo’s legs. He unbuttons Flo’s pants with urgent hands, drawing his erection out of his pants. With how much he was edged, Flo’s cock is already dripping with precum. Nick uses the extra fluid to slick up his palm and jerk Flo off, sliding his thick cock between the tight pressure of his warm fingers.

Nick then taps Flo’s cock against his lips teasingly, meeting Flo’s eyes as he does so. He plays with the underside in small, kitten licks, before taking the head of his cock into his mouth in a tight seal, sucking shallowly in order to stimulate the tip. Slowly, he works up a rhythm, sinking his mouth deeper onto Flo’s straining cock and enveloping him in wet heat with each bob of his head.

While Flo isn’t able to touch him, he settles for shifting his hips so that he’s able to fuck into Nick’s sinful mouth. With each thrust, Flo builds up a rhythm, pressing his cock deep into Nick’s mouth until he’s balls deep, moaning as his cock flexes against the plush embrace of Nick’s throat.

At the same time, Nick reaches behind himself and dips a precum-slicked hand into his waistband. He’s already loosened himself up back there in anticipation of taking Flo’s cock, so his fingers sink in easily. Fingerfucking himself only makes Nick feel more desperate, and his blowjob becomes progressively sloppier as he loses himself in his own pleasure, moans vibrating around Flo’s cock whenever his fingers graze over his prostate.

Unable to take it any longer, Nick stands, legs shaking slightly from maintaining a kneeling position and with the desperate need to have Flo’s cock in him. He strips off completely, cock bouncing flushed and proud, leaking a thin stream of precum that breaks off when he pulls his boxers down. Maintaining eye contact, he straddles the chair and sits on Flo’s lap, moaning appreciatively as he grinds his bare ass onto Flo’s spit-soaked cock. Nick licks his lips in anticipation, before positioning Flo’s cock with a shaky hand and sinking his hole down on him, inch by inch.

It’s clearly been a while for Nick, so he’s extremely tight - it’s almost too much for him to take Flo’s cock all in one go. In order to get used to the size, Nick rocks up and down on Flo’s cock in small shifts, with each press of his hips a little deeper than the last, until his hole completely hugs Flo’s cock. Nick moans at the fullness, clutching on to Flo’s shoulders, trying his best to push through the overwhelming sensation. He launches forward to kiss Flo, grinding his hips in desperate little circles in the hopes of loosening himself up and growing used to the shape of Flo’s cock.

“I haven’t started moving yet, but you already feel so good,” Nick gasps, biting his lip. “Fuck, how is that even possible? This is everything I imagined it would be.”

“You like that?” Flo asks with a smile. Even though he doesn’t have his hands free to touch Nick, he’s able to shift his hips and change the angle to send Nick into a world of pleasure.

“Oh yeah,” Nick moans, placing his hands on Flo’s chest for leverage, “uh, oh my god, you’re so fucking big…!”

Slowly but surely, Nick adapts to the length of Flo’s cock and starts to pick up the pace. As time goes on, each grind becomes harsher and he starts to lift himself up to bounce on Flo’s cock in earnest, clenching up every time it scrapes at a good spot. Leaning back a bit, he hooks his ankles around the chair legs for leverage, fucking his ass up and down so hard that his ass starts to sting.

The warm ridges of Nick’s ass cling tightly to Flo’s cock, and it feels like absolute heaven. Still, Flo wants nothing more than to fuck into Nick at his own pace and to bottom out with each thrust. He tenses his muscles to pull at the rope and it gives slightly - just not enough to free him completely.

Meanwhile, Nick’s lost in his own world of pleasure, so he doesn’t notice Flo trying to escape from his bindings. When Flo finally tugs free, Nick startles, pace slowing a bit when he realises that Flo is no longer at his mercy. He’s definitely affected by Flo’s show of strength, however, and his hole twitches greedily on Flo’s length, milking him.

At this point, Flo’s been teased enough. Without another word, he immediately pushes Nick down, changing the position so that Nick’s back is to him and so he can pull that perfect ass back onto his cock. He keeps Nick’s hole spread open with his fingers, so he can see how his cock sinks into Nick’s tight entrance with each thrust, how Nick tightens up on him whenever Flo’s balls slap against his ass.

Nick completely loves how he’s being spread open, cock dripping like a tap as he’s fucked into oblivion. WIth each powerful thrust, his arms tremble until they finally give out. He ends up resting his shoulders against the ground, letting Flo take his pleasure from him and fuck him soundly. Whenever Flo thrusts especially deep, his entire body trembles and he lets out breathy moans, shaking his ass eagerly and begging for more.

“You’ve been wanting me to dick you down for a long time, haven’t you?” Flo asks, realising just how desperate Nick is for this. He leans down to cover Nick’s back with his own, kissing softly at his neck and licking at his earlobe. “How many times did you jerk off to my videos, imagining that you were the one being fucked? You were just waiting for me to come and fuck you, right?”

“F-fuck, ah, yes! I came so many times dreaming about your cock in me…!” Nick whines, turning his head so that he’s able to meet Flo’s mouth, kissing him open mouthed and panting as Flo continues to thrust.

Distracted by the kissing, they end up slowing down a bit. Flo pulls out, drawing a whine out of Nick, and quickly strips out of his clothes so that they can get even closer, skin on skin.

“How about moving this to the bed?” Flo murmurs.

Nick nods, leading Flo towards the bed and pulling Flo on top of him. Flo wastes no time raising Nick’s legs and sinking back into his tight puffy hole. Nick moans, eyes rolling and toes curling as Flo’s cock slides deep into his guts, hole twitching in a delicious squeeze around his cock. All spread out on the bed, Flo can now admire how Nick looks when he’s flushed and crazy with desire. With each thrust, Nick’s swollen cock slaps his stomach seductively, smearing fluid all over his abs and down into his belly button.

“God, I swear I can feel your cock in my throat, you’re so deep, ahh…!” Nick moans. He’s so lost in pleasure that he’s starting to speak nonsense. “Please Flo, fuck me hard until you come inside my ass - I want to feel your cum deep inside me…!”

Flo tilts Nick’s hips up and fucks even harder into him after hearing that. He’s not close yet, since his job requires him to stay hard for longer than the average person, but it seems like Nick’s already on the edge. He keeps fucking at the same spot that has Nick moaning and whining, until Nick seizes, breath hitching as he comes.

“Ooh, ah, fuck - I’m coming…!” Nick moans, shivering and flexing around Flo’s dick as he nuts, thick streaks of white shooting from the tip of his dick and coating his entire body. Because of the angle, his cum flies across his chest and even lands across his cheeks and chin. Flo lets Nick hook his ankles against his thighs and grind his twitching ass on his dick to chase the final spurts of his orgasm, until he’s completely relaxed and spent.

Flo pulls out to admire the loose clench of Nick’s hole, rubbing his finger against the opening until Nick whines in a mixture of overstimulation and interest.

“You okay to keep going?” Flo asks gently.

Nick nods eagerly, looking like a mess with cum streaked across his body, “please destroy my ass, baby. I want you to fuck me hard!”

Flo laughs at the reference to his porn name, and slams into Nick once more, “yeah? You want me to destroy your cute little ass?”

Nick turns back to look at Flo, begging wordlessly with his eyes to be filled. His hands grip the bed sheets tightly and his entire body shakes with overstimulation and fatigue. However, each deep thrust has his eyes rolling back, soft whines escaping his plush lips. He’s being sent straight to heaven with Flo’s cock.

Nick looks so submissive and horny like this, begging to be filled with Flo’s cum - Flo feels himself getting close. With how much he’s been teased, he’s sure that he’s going to pump Nick’s tight ass with a huge load.

Flo picks up the pace, fucking into Nick unevenly and using the warm folds of Nick’s hole to stimulate his rock-hard cock. He fucks hard into Nick until he reaches the peak of his orgasm, using his hands to hold Nick’s shoulders and shove his cock deep until his hips are pressed firmly against Nick’s ass. With a final moan, he cums into Nick, thick, throbbing pulses until his balls start to ache, completely emptied.

Nick cums a second time from being fucked so roughly. Clear, thin strands of cum add to the first load, and he looks completely out of it, moaning senselessly with each twitch of Flo’s hips.

“Oh my god… you’re so amazing, Flo. They don’t call you the Ass Destroyer for nothing - that was the best sex I’ve ever had. I haven’t cum back to back like that before.”

Flo’s smiles at the compliment. “I haven’t fucked someone so tight and hot like you in a long time either. You were so responsive and amazing.”

Nick blushes and kisses Flo softly. It feels completely different from their first kiss, which was hurried and full of passion; this one feels slow and syrupy, almost romantic.

They kiss until Nick winces, realising the uncomfortable angle he’s bent at. Flo pulls out with a soft pop and watches the cum trickle out of Nick’s loose hole, dripping cream all over the bedsheets. Nick flushes a bit, feeling the cum slip out of him, and tries to close his legs, but Flo massages the twitching hole and fingerfucks him until Nick’s completely emptied out.

Nick reaches back for Flo once he’s done, clinging onto him, and they lay there panting and satisfied.

After their breaths have evened out, Nick says, “you know I can’t let you go after that, right? That went beyond all my wildest imaginations - one time isn’t enough. I want to keep you all for myself.”

Flo shrugs, a smile growing on his face, “I didn’t have the chance to mention it before, but I’ve had a crush on you for a long time too, you know. I always thought you were so far away, and that we were in different worlds, but I’m glad that this brought us together. I’m fine if you want to keep me.”

“Really?” Nick blushes when he realises how hopeful he sounds. “Then… would you be up for a more permanent arrangement? We could get together more often, or something…” Nick’s trying to play it cool, but it’s clear that he wants more than that, “or, if you’re up for it, we seem to be compatible, and coincidentally have crushes on each other… how about we try dating for a bit?”

Flo’s secretly happy with how direct Nick is being - he likes that Nick knows exactly what, or who, he wants.

“I would love to, Nick.” Flo pecks him on the lips, “just as long as you can take me destroying your ass a bit more.”

“Shower, food and then… round two?” Nick smiles, kissing him deeply again.

“Sounds perfect,” Flo laughs.

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writesfic · 3 months

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blight (alt ending)

warning: nsfw, inc.est

As the orgasmic haze fades, clarity rushes in like a gush of cold water and the pressure of the blight flares anew. Though the painful throb is immediate and overwhelming, it does nothing to overshadow the guilt running through Alex’s veins like poison.

Alex’s hands tremble by his sides. Eyes remain fixated on the tile floor, wide and uncomprehending.

What the fuck did he just do?

Ben stays still, slumped over the tile with his back to him. Alex knows Ben is being cautious for his sake, which makes him feel all kinds of fucked up inside, a mixture of self-loathing and tender. He doesn’t dare look at him.

“...’Lex?” Ben asks carefully.

It’s mostly inquisitive, but there’s something else lurking in Ben’s tone that makes him dread. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. He needs to get the fuck out.

“We’re not talking about this.”

Ben’s too stubborn for his own good to let it go. He turns around with full intent to argue, but the wind’s taken out of his sails when he catches sight of the blight. It’s gotten much worse; it’s spread throughout the day like an ink droplet on a blank canvas.

Almost instinctively, Ben reaches out a hand to touch, but the blight seems to rejoice at that. It shudders across his skin, like an open wound knitting itself back together. It’s unsettling enough that Alex flinches away from Ben’s hand. He has to refrain from meeting it.

“Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t look at me,” Alex snaps, and Ben raises his hands up in surrender, backing off. Ben’s all too aware of his brother’s tells; if he pushes now, they’ll be paying for property damage.

“Alex.”

Somehow, Ben manages to make his name sound like a reprimand.

Instead of conceding, Alex high-tails it out of there, grabbing his backpack on his way out. His clothes are still wet from the shower spray but he has spares in the truck. He’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine by morning. A night to cool off would do the both some good. He’s not running away from this, goddamn it. He’s no coward - he just needs some time.

Alex drives in the dark, alone with his thoughts for a long time before realizing his teeth are chattering and that his pants have soaked through the seat. He changes, lays down towels and then, after shaking the cold from his fingers, continues to drive.

The road is a neon blur. The only indication of time passing is the indistinct murmur of the GPS on low and the shift of the winding snake roads on display to his left. He’s not sure where he’s headed, his only irrational priority being to put enough distance between himself and his goddamn brother, so he doesn’t ruin the only good thing that’s ever graced his shitty life. Like a wounded animal, he feels a need to hunker down in isolation and lick his wounds in private.

Fingers grip the steering wheel and the leather creaks under the pressure. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He just knows he needs to do something before he crashes and burns.

Instead of making the responsible choice and booking a motel to crash in for the night, he’s more inclined to drink himself into oblivion and leave the shitshow of his life behind for a night. God knows he has no conscience but he has all the coping mechanisms necessary to forget his own name.

He drives and drives until he finds a nameless town. The bar is equally nondescript, perfect to disappear in. He sits down heavily at the bar table, only taking a cursory glance around the room for potential danger before sinking into his headspace. The bartender gets the memo and fetches the hard liquor for him to sample. He samples the fuck out of all of them.

He doesn’t really look up from his drink before his head starts spinning and he’s seeing double. He feels a lot calmer by now. Someone sits next to him up on the bar.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He’s so fucking drunk - he hardly sees two inches from his face.

The chick’s wearing a bright blue dress that hurts his eyes. She also has little lightning bolt earrings that keep scratching his jaw whenever she leans in close to whisper over the background noise. They’re pretty cool.

“Tara,” the woman supplies, “you?”

“Uh… Dan.”

The lie slips off his tongue. Usually, he doesn’t like to give out fake names when he’s trying to get with someone, but today he wants to slip into the role of someone else. He wants Alex Beckam to disappear.

“Is that right?” she giggles, like there’s a joke he’s missed.

There’s hands on him, nails digging into his shoulders and the warm floral scents of a perfume as she kisses him, the taste of plasticine sweet lip-gloss on his tongue. She’s fucking hot, legs long and tan and the curve of her hips practically sinful.

When she eases in closer, it’s like he loses all reservations. He reels her in by the waist and pulls her onto his lap without warning. Fingers grab her ass like she’s a piece of meat and he arches up, already searching for the heat her sex as she settles warmly in his lap.

She eases back, laughing, “woah there, tiger.”

She’s settled heavily against his crotch, moving her hips in slow shifts that can be passed off as readjusting her position on his lap. It seems that she likes his eagerness well enough. It wouldn’t be too hard to persuade her into a quick fuck. He flashes a grin up at her but it’s all wrong; he doesn’t feel like himself today.

She looks at him from under her lashes. He usually loves the attention, would lap it all up and return her gaze with heavy appreciation, lingering on her hips, breasts or ass. However, he finds himself tracing down the thin line of her neck, the delicate nature of her frame, the shoulder-length hair that’s just right to bunch up and pull.

He’s so fucking horny, but if he takes her home tonight, he’ll do something he regrets. Rough her up, or worse. Dim lighting and poor eyesight makes her irises look black and Alex jerks back from her. The jolt of hatred that lances through his system is like a douse of cold water, cutting through his drunkenness. He needs to leave. Now.

He backs away from her violently, stumbling into the countertop behind him. She loses balance and falls off his lap, only catching her balance when a well meaning stranger hoists her up by the shoulder and shoots Alex a disapproving look.

She looks pissed, but Alex doesn’t blame her for it. She probably thinks he’s some junkie loser anyway, jittery and over-eager. He squints, maybe she’s a hooker? He isn’t sure. To be safe, he leaves money on the counter and doesn’t wait to see if she takes the cash or not. Either way, it’ll make a hefty compensation for the trouble of dealing with him. For her or the bartender.

He stumbles out of the bar and into his truck. He’s driven in worse conditions, all things considered. Drugged up, high off his gills on pain medicine, or delirious from blood loss - you name it. Drunk driving? Psh. Easy deal.

He takes down the highway, all the windows down and the wind whipping through his hair. There’s something wrong with him, the way he keeps on laughing, stupid hysterical giggling that gets carried away by the wind. He only stops when he’s forced to swerve and avoid a wide-eyed pedestrian, who stumbles back onto the pavement as Alex cruises a red light.

He’s speeding, turning the corners too tight. He has to stop somewhere before he kills himself or someone else. Turning onto a side road, he puts up his blinkers, waiting for his heart-rate to slow. The blight is getting much worse. The sexual urges are one thing, but he’s never felt like this. Violence and anger roiling in his chest in a senseless, ravenous urge.

Alex wants to turn the truck around and drive back to Ben so bad, reclaim the space around him until there’s nothing left, until he’s gasping underneath him and begging him to stop, until he’s soundless and flushed pretty with the pleasure-pain that only Alex gives him, and-

Fuck. Fuck. He’s hard again. How many times has it been already, tonight? Alex brushes a hand through his hair, fingers shaking. He’s not going to touch himself while thinking about his brother in the truck his dad left him. Jesus. He just needs to stop thinking a while. He needs sleep.

He lights up, taking in a deep breath of smoke. The car is hazy with chemicals, and if he squints hard enough, he’s able to see Ben in the passenger seat, laughing. He wonders if that’ll ever happen again after the shit he pulled tonight. He lets the warmth convalesce in his lungs, blasting the same tracks on repeat until he musters the energy to drive again.

Two blocks away, Alex checks in to a shitty motel, hardly cognizant of the dirty looks he gets from the owner and her husband. His credit card goes through, though, and they’re apparently desperate enough for the money that they don’t ask further questions.

When Alex gets to the room, he makes a beeline for the bed and sinks down into the covers. The motel isn’t top rate; who knows what sort of stains are there. Still, he’s too tired to care. He lies there, breathing in the musty smell of sheets, willing himself to sleep. The racing thoughts keep him wide awake.

Did he really not see the signs? Two summers ago, Ben asked if he’d ever see himself doing something else besides hunting. Alex said no, but the faraway look in his brother’s eyes chilled him; it was like he’d already left. He’d snapped and called Ben selfish. In retrospect, he thinks he’d been afraid of being left alone, of being without Ben.

It could have started earlier, even. When dad made them share beds to cut costs, he’d stay up long after his brother fell asleep, reassuring himself with the steady sounds of his breathing. That wasn’t fucking normal between brothers.

Had he been acting for an ulterior motive? Maybe he’d always wanted more, to put his hands all over his brother and corrupt him until there was nothing left out there for him but Alex. God, he doesn’t know.

He must have always been this way, harboring an urge that lay just beneath his skin, itching to do wrong. He’d tried to compartmentalize before and it worked for a while, but traveling alone with Ben opened the floodgates. It’s drawn the yearning up to the surface like beads of moisture on his skin.

Fucking hell. Alex steels himself. He just needs to get off after being left high and dry by the chick earlier. He’s just shy of a few minutes from normality, just needs some stimulation and R&R to fucking forget about this bullshit.

He shuts his eyes, trailing a hand down his front and over his bare stomach. He’s too keyed up to tease himself, just dips his fingers below the waistline to grab his cock. He isn’t hard up yet, but the arousal is already building behind his groin.

Alex moans softly, the quiet illusion of privacy of the hotel room making him either brave or stupid.

He keeps the pace slow, touching himself and deliberately thinking about nothing at all. Well, thinking about the woman at the bar is safe - the curves of her hips and the way her breath smelled, the soft warmth of her lips on his neck and the weight of her ass on his lap. The way she kept sighing his name, over and over, and-

He freezes, eyes wide in the dark.

It wasn’t her, he realizes too late. She hadn’t said his name; hadn’t pushed for it at all. It was Ben who’d cried out his name, accusative and sharp. The familiar syllable fell from his bitten lips so easily, similar to the countless times he’s abused it to chastise him. Yet, his tone had been different this time around, scandalized but unwittingly excited as Alex touched all over his body.

Even though he tries his damn hardest to forget, no alcohol or drug or rationalization sweeps the memory of Ben’s gasps from his mind, the feeling of his cock, hard and flushed against his, or the soft muscles of his warm thighs. His hand is already moving along his cock, gripping tighter and stroking at the memory. There’s something about his brother that makes him so desperate, so needy; like an addict chasing the next high.

He shifts, legs shuffling against the sheets and arching as he finally gives in and starts rubbing himself off faster. He isn’t able to help himself from remembering the way Ben flexed his thighs closer for Alex to fuck, or how his hole clenched down on the tip of his finger, tight and hot.

Alex wonders how it’d have felt, if he took the chance to push Ben against the wall and take, push until his brother’s body enveloped him and took over like a second skin. Ben would look back at him, eyes hot and burning with accusation before he arches back and gives into it. He’d take his cock so well, shivering and wet until Alex leanes forward to kiss him, bite into him and draw blood and moans and tears. He would have looked so good, clenching around his cock and breaths visible among the plumes of steam.

Alex moans, the slick sounds of his excitement undeniable. He’s leaking so bad, precum dripping over his fingers and dotting the sheets as he ruts into any sensation he gets, the fantasy overwhelming him with desperation. The sheets are damp with his sweat, and drag roughly on his swollen cock as he chases after his pleasure.

He’s so close to the edge but it’s just not enough. Desperate, he brushes a finger across his nipples, which are sensitive enough to make him flinch. He tries again, softer, before setting up a good rhythm, drawing slow circles and rubbing the tip with the rough pads of his fingers. His cock keeps leaking, pulsing warmly in his other hand, but there’s a frustrating feeling of not enough, like his body’s craving more.

Alex bites his lip, considering. It’s not something he usually does, but thinking about Ben has made him all sorts of needy. He’s already at his lowest; who’s going to judge him for wanting more; for wanting everything?

He reaches down with his other hand to tug at his balls, rubbing over the sensitive, overheated skin with his thumbs and pressing his other fingers behind his sac. He finds the swell of his perineum and starts a rhythm there, massaging insistently until the sweet pressure has him trembling and writhing on the bed.

Biting his lips, Alex shuts his eyes before reaching a little lower, dragging the pad of his index finger until it catches on his hole. He twitches at the contact, before giving in and circling the opening, rubbing along the sensitive flesh until a moan escapes him, the sound breathy as it’s dragged directly out of his lungs.

Unbidden, his mind wanders. The angle is awkward, but it’s already just shy of too good. If Ben was here, he’d be able to work his long fingers into him just right, shifting his fingers deep inside and crooking them where he wants, and-

He keeps stroking, feeling his need draw higher and higher, right along the edge. He presses the tip of his finger into his hole, the tiniest whisper of pressure against the rim, and he’s gone.

He arches, shooting all across the bed spread. The pleasure is a sharp, hot thing that he isn’t able to contain in his body; it has him shivering and jerking, his hole contracting around his finger through the aftershocks.He’s making these loud gasps that he isn’t able to muffle and he’s forced to twist on his side to bury the open moans into his pillow, drawing the fabric between his teeth.

Slowly, the pleasure fades. He shifts slightly, surveying the damage. His cum is fucking everywhere, dripping and settling into the sheets and pattering onto the carpet where he’d miscalculated. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s making a mess out of his own cum, dragging it all across his chest and his softening cock, dipping his fingers into his mouth.

He pants, heart beating a million miles per minute as he stares at the ceiling, waiting for the sparks to fade. He’s never been this… depraved. Sure, he’s been labeled many things, but all the shit that’s happened tonight feels like the blight's fault. He rubs a hand over his chest - the mark hardly hurts at all, like Alex’s pleased it somehow.

He makes a promise to himself in the dark: tomorrow, he’ll swallow his pride and slink back to the hotel room to get help. He still remembers how bloodshot Ben’s eyes had been the last time he’d wound up in hospital after a hunt. He’d hardly remembered anything at all, but Ben clammed up whenever Alex asked about what happened. Prying information from Ben felt like pulling teeth, until he’d snapped and recited the doctor’s report word for word, telling Alex about the shocks they’d administered to restart his heart. He looked so broken in that moment - Alex would die before he left Ben feeling the same way again.

Too tired to do much of anything else, that’s the final thought he holds onto before slipping away, eyes drifting shut to the sound of cars passing through the highway adjacent.

The hangover hits him hard. Alex doesn’t wake up until nine-ish, which doesn’t sound like a bad time to wake up but amounts to over-sleeping, relative to his cutthroat schedule. He almost trips stumbling out of bed with his jeans half undone, barely making it to the bathroom to throw his guts up violently.

He waits until the final wracks of the sickness are done before wrapping himself around the cool porcelain, grimacing as his bare knees shift on the hard motel floor. The sweat and stink of last night hangs around his head like a shroud. On autopilot, Alex packs up his belongings after a quick shower, feeling strangely hollow. The vivid, dangerous impulses of last night have drained as quickly as they’d built up.

Alex gets back in the truck, ready to make the long journey back to meet up with his brother and face the fire. He’s about to send a text to Ben, reassuring him that he’s been alright and that he’s heading back, but realizes his phone isn’t charged. Once he gets it plugged up into his car and charging, the notifications start going off like crazy. So much so that he pulls up along the side of the road to check them. Ben’s been texting him all through the night.

[FROM: B - 1:42 AM]

Did you just fucking drive off

Where did you go?

Come back, there’s clearly sth wrong with you. I don’t blame you alright, we can talk about this

Then, after an hour or so:

Whatever asshole, just don’t do anything stupid

Guess what, I found something out about the mark

It’s a mark left by lust demons, to stake claim on their victims

I’d tell you more but I can’t be fucked to relay this through text

I hear noises at the door, you finally come back?

Then, after half an hour or so, a voicemail:

“Lex, there’s something outside. I think it’s related to the demon we’ve been tracking. Someone’s been keeping tabs on us. God, I had a feeling since the last hunt. I have the standard runes up but the demon’s influence feels strong - I don’t think it’s something we’ve come across before.”

Ben pauses, and it’s so quiet that Alex swears he hears him breathing.

“It’s… really fucking bad. Call me back.”

[FROM: B - 3:21 AM]

Some help would be nice. The fucking weapons that you drove away with would also be good.

Dude, answer the fucking phone

The ruins aren’t working. You have to come back

It’s the last voicemail from Ben. Alex swallows nervously before opening it.

“Lex. The rest of the insulin is in the car and the runes are losing effect. I need your help, okay, so please come back. Or just… call me. I don’t know what to do.”

When Ben’s feeling desperate, his voice always gets reedy and high. No matter how old he gets, it's exactly the same. Alex remembers Ben using that same tone after he’d come back from a particularly bad hunt, pleading for Alex to be quicker and smarter, to keep himself safe. Or younger still, when Ben dreamt of dark shapes and noises in the dark and buried himself into Alex’s arms, stiff-shouldered and shaking.

To know that he’d abandoned Ben when he needed Alex the most hurt like a bitch. What happened with his promise to keep his brother safe?

It was too late for regret. He hadn’t been thinking straight last night, leaving Ben alone and driving away with most of their possessions. All Alex could do right now was to find him.

As he drives, he keeps speed-dialing his brother’s number over and over. He stops soon enough when he realizes his hands are shaking with each call, and that he’s been listening to Ben’s pre-recorded voicemail message and letting the time run out. Scoffing, he flings the phone into the passenger seat and steps down on the gas.

Yesterday feels like a lifetime ago; even the prospect of Ben hating him and cutting him out of his life pales in comparison to the prospect of finding Ben still and bloodied in that motel room.

He deserves it for leaving his brother alone. Ben spent the night confused, hurting and hoping for his brother to return. What had Alex been doing? Getting drunk off his ass miles away, jerking off to his brother in some shitty motel with his phone on low. Who was he kidding? He’d broken his promise to protect his brother before that already. He’d made Ben hurt under his own fucking hands, bruised his skin.

Whenever he thinks about that, his hands shake too violently for him to drive. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness, he knows; but that can all come later, when he finds out that his brother is safe. No more of that. He just needs to focus and drive.

Arriving at the motel takes ages, but when he finally busts through the door, he stops in his tracks. His brother is just… gone. He thinks it's better than finding him curled up somewhere, face slackened with the familiar signs of death, helplessly waiting for Alex to return.

A chill settles over him. There’s anger, for sure, but it’s disgustingly calm. Terrifying. He’s never felt this way before, this out of body certainty that if he finds the demon or human or whatever that harmed his brother, he’ll kill them. Slowly and painfully.

There’s moisture in his palm. He looks down dispassionately where his fist is gripping the runic shards too hard. It’s pierced through skin, drawing blood. In a daze, he pockets the fragment and gets back into his truck.

He takes a moment just to breathe. It's getting harder to ignore the feeling of the restlessness vibrating through his body, the icy-hot burn of anger at his chest. Maybe it’s easier this way. Without that feeling powering through his system, he’d collapse. He closes his eyes and lets it settle in his bones.

Then, he reaches for the wheel, bloody fingerprints lining his silver car, and drives.

#writing commission #commissions open #commissions #writing requests #writing request #commission tag #writing #nsfw commission

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writesfic · 3 months

Text

luke hudson x self-insert

warning: nsfw, trans piv, afab terms

At first, Flo thinks he’s dreaming. Never in all his life did he think he’d have the opportunity to act with Luke Hudson as his scene partner. Even when he’s dressed, Luke is extremely sexy. Flo keeps on getting lost in his wide, puppy-dog smile and can’t stop thinking about his soft hands when they’d given each other a handshake.

Flo can barely think straight as they plan the scene - something about them being friends of a sibling or such - but he keeps finding Luke’s eyes over the meeting table. Luke’s slightly shy but tempting gaze makes Flo want him so badly, and Luke picks up on it, because he keeps on smiling coyly, as if he can’t wait for them to start filming either.

Once the director calls for a 30 minute break, Flo escapes the meeting, completely flustered and horny.

“Why didn’t you tell me my partner today was going to be Luke?” Flo asks his manager in a rush. He isn’t sure when the manager figured out his obsession or crush over the guy, but they must have pulled some strings in order to organize this porn shoot.

“I’ve known that it was your wish since a long time ago. You know that time you got drunk at the business party? You started going on and on about how you wanted to meet Luke in person, and how much you liked the guy.” The manager smiles, amused by Flo’s panic and excitement. “Since your videos have been performing so well, I thought what a better way to reward you and to get even more revenue? This was the win-win solution in my mind.”

Flo didn’t realize how much his manager did on a daily basis for him in order to organize his shoots, but the level of thought that went behind it made him thankful.

“I never realized I told you all this,” Flo says, a bit embarrassed by how much he must have talked about Luke in order for management to arrange this, “but I’m glad I did - I get to film with Luke, in the end.”

“Exactly,” the manager nods, “go get him, tiger.”

The rest of the planning phase passes by in no time at all, and soon enough, he and Luke are the only ones remaining on the set, with the rest of the crew members and the director in the darkness, all waiting and watching for their performance to begin. As they’re filming this scene in a 360 degree perspective, he puts on the camera on his forehead, strapped tight in order to record everything.

“And…action!” The director calls. The acting slate claps down, the camera rolls and the scene begins.

Flo’s usually a pro at these scenes, but his manager generally arranges for him to film with actors that he’s familiar with. He didn’t have a chance to speak with Luke and really get to know him beforehand, so he’s slightly nervous coming into this.

Luke takes the lead as he opens the prop door.

“Hey Flo, are you looking for my brother? He’s out with his friends on the basketball court right now, but you can come in to wait for him, if you’d like.” He smiles a bit, before opening the door a bit wider, inviting him in.

Flo agrees, sitting down on the couch and slinging an arm around Luke, “yeah sure. I don’t mind spending time with you - you’re a friend as much as your brother is, you know?”

Luke nods, smiling a bit at being called a friend. However, a few seconds later, he starts to fidget, “so… what would you like to do in the meantime?”

Flo drags Luke closer so that the shorter male is practically cuddled up to his side, fingers stroking over Luke’s shoulder. Slowly, he turns to look at Luke, who’s already staring up at him - their mouths are only a few inches away from each other.

“I want to do whatever you want to do,” Flo smirks as he catches Luke staring at his mouth, looking like he’s desperate to kiss him.

“I have a few ideas,” Luke barely gasps out before they crash together, hands running all across each other’s bodies like they’ve been desperate to get their hands on each other.

Luke’s a talented kisser, mouthing hotly against Flo’s lips in a sensual rhythm, tongue pushing and licking into his mouth.

Flo gets lost in it, hardly paying the camera any attention, kissing Luke with all he’s got, using every technique and skill he has on him until he’s dazed and breathless.

When the two of them finally part with a soft sound of suction, Luke’s lips are swollen, and there’s a dazed, adoring look in his eye.

“Wow, I’ve been fantasizing about kissing you for so long, but that was so much better than I ever hoped for,” Luke sighs.

Flo forgets that they’re acting for a second, confused, but he realizes that Luke is putting on a show for the camera.

“Have you? Did you think about me doing more to you?” Flo teases. “Did you touch yourself?”

Luke’s eyes grow even darker at Flo’s question, before whispering like he’s telling Flo a secret, “almost every night you’ve been over here. I want you to fuck me so hard that I scream.”

Flo smirks, “how can I refuse that?”

Luke climbs into Flo’s lap, grinding against his erection in slow circles as they keep making out. Flo reaches into Luke’s pants, but Luke leans away, as if shocked.

Flo frowns, “is something wrong, Luke? Are you worried about your brother finding out? Because I can keep a secret if you want me to.”

Luke blushes, looking down shyly, “it isn’t that. I, um. Well I just didn’t have a good reason or time to tell you before, but I…” He looks frustrated before grabbing Flo’s hand directly and guiding it to the part between his legs. “I didn’t know how to explain this.”

Flo shows surprise on his face, as if shocked that Luke doesn’t have a cock, but a dripping wet pussy. WIth how much they've been kissing and fondling each other, Luke’s soaked, underwear coated with his slick and burning with how hot he is.

Flo gasps, a small smile growing on his face, “do you have a pussy, baby?”

Luke flushes, hiding his face and nodding, before mumbling, “is that okay? This doesn’t change anything?”

“It doesn’t change anything - you’re perfect, Luke. You’re beautiful like this, and so fucking sexy. I love it.” Flo praises.

Flo massages soft circles into Luke’s pussy, making him spasm and leak even more onto his hand, before gesturing Luke to pull down his pants and put on a show. Luke complies, dragging off his shorts with a tempting wriggle of his hips, bringing his pants and underwear down inch by inch until all his creamy flesh is showing, a string of slick connecting his wet pussy to his underwear.

Flo licks his lips, before reaching out to touch Luke, running his hands over the lips and dipping his fingers into his tight hole. Luke’s already loosened himself up before the scene, so he doesn’t need to prepare him at all. He’s able to sink three fingers into him directly, finger fucking Luke until he clenches up against his fingers, moaning loudly.

“I’m so ready, Flo.” Luke begs, looking up at the camera pleadingly. “Please just put your big cock in me, quickly, before anyone comes home.”

Luke efficiently unbuckles Flo’s pants, pulling them down just enough so that he’s able to expose Flo’s hard erection, flushed and red with how excited he is. Without a second to waste, Luke sinks down on it with a sigh of relief, not stopping until Flo’s balls are pressed against the opening of his pussy.

“Fuck,” Luke gasps, while circling his hips, “Flo, you’re so big…!”

“Fuck, it’s my first time being in a pussy, baby, and you’re feels so good.” Flo strokes Luke’s sides up and down, making him shiver. “You’re so wet and hot inside, perfect for my cock, Luke.”

Luke takes a few more seconds to get used to Flo’s size before starting to bounce, fucking his pussy up and down and dripping all over Flo’s cock.

“Ah, mmh…! That feels so good,” Luke moans, angling so that Flo’s hitting all of his good spots and using Flo’s cock as much as he wants.

The uneven pace and constant throbbing of Luke’s pussy only makes each stroke feel that much better on Flo’s cock. Flo steadies Luke and controls the pace a bit more by gripping Luke by the hips and angling his own hips up to meet each of Flo’s downstroke. Flo takes his pleasure from Luke until Luke is clinging against his chest and jerking with each harsh thrust, moaning sexily into his ear as he’s pleasured.

“You like that?” Flo asks with a groan, shifting his hands to cup Luke’s ass, massaging them as he brings Luke down on his cock, slapping it to make his perfect ass jiggle. Luke is so sensitive, moaning out and twitching with each touch.

“Yes, I fucking love it, Flo! Give it to me hard, ah, ah!”

“I’ll make you feel even better - turn around, Luke,” Flo orders cheekily.

Luke sits up, whining as the cock scrapes him inside, before turning around on Flo’s dick without lifting himself off it.

Flo groans, feeling each shift and touch, before he’s met with the lovely sight of Luke’s round, full ass bouncing on his cock. With how much Luke is leaning forward, his waist looks tiny and it’s a lovely feast for his eyes and the camera. Luke reaches back with his hands for some stability with each thrust, and Flo holds Luke’s arms tight against his back with one of his hands as he moves, each hard slap of his hips making Luke whine out. With his free hand, Flo spreads Luke’s cheeks, showing a glimpse of Luke’s pink swollen pussy as it swallows his dick greedily, over and over again.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” Luke gasps, feeling each thrust deep and hard inside him, scraping all the swollen pleasure-spots inside his dripping hole. “Fuck, I’m so close, keep fucking me just like that, ahh!”

Flo keeps his thrusts consistent, moaning out at the feeling of Luke clenching and fluttering on his dick as he grows closer and closer to orgasm. As Luke reaches his peak, his back bows and he lifts himself off of Flo’s cock, twitching and shivering with each contraction. His pussy opens and closes against nothing as he comes, and a small gush of slick drips out of him, coating Flo’s dick a little bit.

“Fuck, Flo…” Luke moans, before sinking back down on Flo’s cock with a wriggle of his hips, the aftermath of his orgasm still evident as he clenches up on him every so often.

Not able to take the teasing pace any longer, Flo guides Luke back towards the couch, making sure that he’s comfortably situated before lying on top of him. Flo grinds his wet hard-on against Luke’s ass, tapping it there and getting Luke impatient, before finally sinking back into his hole. With his entire body weight over Luke, each of Flo’s thrusts strikes deep, hitting the back of Luke’s pussy with every other stroke.

“Oh my god,” Luke moans, eyes rolling as Flo’s cock ravages him entirely, “you’re destroying my pussy Luke, you’re ruining me…!”

Flo keeps fucking into him hard, until each slap of his hips is accompanied with a wet squelch because of how turned on Luke is. It is really Flo’s first time in a pussy, and feeling Luke drip and clench over him is completely new and different from his experiences while doing anal. Each of Luke’s folds drag and cling to his cock like they’re made for him and it feels so fucking good.

“Fuck yeah,” Flo grins - it’s exactly what he wants to hear. With the way Luke is crying out and writhing on his cock, it’s definitely an ego boost.

Flo bounces Luke’s body between the couch and his cock until he’s completely delirious and crazy with pleasure. He doesn’t think that Luke has the mind to answer him anymore, let alone pretend for the camera anymore.

“Flo, please, fuck me, fuck my horny pussy, I wanna come so bad…” Luke moans, “please keep fucking me, don’t stop…!”

“Yeah, you’re getting close again? You’re gonna come on my dick?” Flo grins.

Luke barely has a chance to say anything before he’s coming, toes curling as he hooks his legs around Flo’s waist, securing his cock deep inside him. As Flo’s cock is pressed up to the deepest part of Luke’s twitching pussy, it’s as if he’s being milked for cum. Each clench and drag of Luke’s pussy as he comes just makes Flo want to shoot deep inside him.

Wordlessly, as soon as Luke’s contractions die down, Flo flips Luke over, hiking his legs up and hastily pressing back inside him. Luke lets himself be moved however Flo likes, hooking his legs over Flo’s shoulders as he starts to thrust into him, chasing his own pleasure.

He’s so wet, completely loose and open after his orgasms, and Flo has all the time in the world to pleasure himself with that lovely, plush pussy. He starts stroking Luke’s pussy, petting at him and making Luke whine and clench up on Luke’s cock. The pulsing clenches and the soft ribbing inside Luke’s slutty pussy only makes Flo more excited and ready to come.

Flo keeps pushing in with a wild rhythm until he reaches his peak, shoving himself to the hilt with a wet slap, balls drawing up and pulsing as he nuts, shooting out endless spurts of warm cum. With the tilted angle, hardly any of his come spills out, each drop shot deep into Luke’s pussy, warm and full in his stomach.

Flo pulls out with a wet plop, and soon enough, his thick cum runs out of Luke’s pink, flowery center, droplets of white squeezed out with each of Luke’s fluttering contractions.

“Please, Flo, I wanna come again,” Luke pleads, spreading his pussy lips open and clenching his hole.

Flo kisses him softly, before complying, using his fingers to press in the come that’s leaking from him, before banging him hard with his fingers, using his fingers to hit all of his good spots until Luke’s twitching and moaning and coming again in a heavenly squeeze against Flo’s fingers. If Flo wasn’t already all drained out, he would’ve gotten hard from that sensation alone.

Luke reaches for him lazily, all fucked out and open on the couch, when the fake door jiggles and another supporting actor steps in. While they’re still clothed, the couch is a mess with slick and cum and all their clothes are ruined with their sweat and other fluids. It’s obvious from how fucked out they both look that they’ve been up to something.

“What the fuck, Flo? You fucked my little brother?” The actor exclaims from the doorway, before the scene ends.

It’s a wrap after that, but it’s clear from the look on Luke’s face that he still wants some attention. Flo helps with the clean up and makes sure that they’re all comfortable before holding Luke in his arms, winding down from the scene.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yep,” Luke responds, cuddling into him, “you were great, you know. I wouldn’t mind having you as a scene partner for a few more times.”

“Just a scene partner?” Flo asks, jokingly. He wouldn’t expect them to be anything more, but it would be nice if they could stay friends or on good terms, at the very least.

Luke looks up at him, a bit shocked, before recovering gracefully.

“I wouldn’t mind something more,” he says coyly, “but you’d better take me to dinner first before anything else. Other than for work, I don’t put out so easily.”

Flo laughs, admiring Luke’s sense of humor, “of course. Then let me take you to dinner sometime.”

FIVE MONTHS LATER

They’ve been on a few dates since their shooting. As they both have busy and sometimes conflicting schedules, it’s been hard to take days off together to go on dates. However, they’ve been making the best of the days they have and making sure to experience all sorts of things together.

They’re at a restaurant in the central area of the city, a nice, candle-lit dinner for the both of them.

“It’s funny to think of how we met,” Luke admits. “You know I wanted to arrange a scene for the both of us for so long?”

“Wait really?” Flo says, shocked, “I was the one who wanted to meet you!”

“Let’s just say that we were both attracted to each other - whether it be professionally… or in our private lives.” Luke smiles, a private happy look that makes Flo feel the same way.

It gives Flo all the encouragement he needs to say the next line - he’s been planning this for a while, after all.

“Well, aside from a professional relationship… I’ve been enjoying all of our dates together, and I feel like we’re good for each other.” Flo bites his lip. “Would you want to date?”

Luke smiles, reaching over the table to take his hand, comforting his nerves, “there’s no one else I’d rather date, you know. I’ve been loving our dates and I wanted to ask you the same for the longest time. Who would have thought that we could have such good chemistry, both on screen and off screen?”

“I love that,” Flo beams. “This doesn’t change anything at work right? You’re still alright with being my screen partner?”

“Of course.” Luke kisses him softly, “our scenes always do so well with our audiences - I wouldn’t want to miss out on that good publicity. We can do both.”

Flo smiles into the kiss. “I’m glad to hear it, Luke. I… I love you.”

“I love you too, Flo!” Luke raises a glass with a laugh, “here’s to many more dates and film scenes with you. To us.”

#commission tag #writing commission #commissions open #commission #writing #nsfw commission

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writesfic · 3 months

Text

alduin & alucard : battle .

Alucard wasn’t used to surprises. Due to his enhanced abilities and a thick roster of powerful connections, high and low, he took pride in the fact that he was rarely made the fool. However, he had to concede that being forcibly ripped from his daily routine and transported into this strange, unfamiliar landscape without a moment’s notice hadn’t been within his realm of prediction.

Upon setting foot on the platform, he’s met by a long pathway, littered with wizened statues and protruding, hollow bones. The skyline above him made an even more impressive sight: a dazzling mix of greens and golds, speckled by an endless sea of stars; a drastic change from the smog and drab grey of English scenery. He took an unnecessary breath, just to see if it made any difference. The air seared with something electric, sizzling in his redundant lungs in a way that reminded him of being burned by fire.

He leapt off in a single leap, barely using any effort to hurtle himself forward, past the steps into a second opening. He observed a modest, sandy outcropping, with flowers and tall grass dotted about. Despite the blooming fauna, the arena was dead silent, completely devoid of the chirp of woodland creatures that would be expected here. While Alucard kept his ears pricked up for any sound, there appeared to be no life here at all. The unnatural energy of the location awoke a baser instinct within him, signalling that danger awaited him here.

Not a moment later, an imperceptible tremor shivered through the ground. His hunch was correct: there’d been something ominous lurking among the shadows, hidden within the ethereal beauty of the environment. Even so, that didn’t alarm him. While he would rather maintain the peace, he was a dhampir - fighting and violence were practically ingrained in his bones. This was familiar territory. If fighting was all that was required of him, he’d begrudgingly comply.

A sonorous howl sounded in the distance: “Ven Mul Riik!”

The cry seemed to have summoned a peculiar fog. Mist gathered around Alucard at an alarming speed, obscuring his vision. If he were any ordinary man, it would have shielded his opponent from view entirely. However, his enhanced vision allowed him to spot a mass hurtling towards him in a blur of speed. Without even thinking about it, he side-stepped that preliminary attack with ease.

As the black mass grew close, Alucard was able to discern who his attacker was. The brief sight of wings and scales was enough to identify him as a dragon. He’s no stranger to dragons - has fought and kept them as familiars in equal measure. From what he knows of the species, they aren’t particularly aggressive. If he had a choice, he would not choose to fight; long-lived creatures such as dragons deserved the utmost respect. However, he would do what was necessary, even slay the said dragon if needed, in order to protect himself.

The beast was huge, one of the largest he’d ever seen. The grit and growth over his obsidian scales and large bodice were enough to fascinate Alucard. However, with the knowledge that the beast was in a combative mode and completely focused on attacking him, Alucard made sure to keep his guard up.

Alduin was clearly enraged that he’d missed the target. He thrashed in the air in sharp jerks, twitching with fury, before opening his mouth to send a blast of fire. Alucard bounded away from the blast, but sorely felt the heat of the blast follow suit. While he ran, the trail of burning behind him was accompanied by the earthy, bitter smell of wood and bone.

Alucard looked up through the mist and rising smoke to survey the creature. Despite Alduin’s first impression, Alucard was unimpressed by the slew of uninventive attacks. He grew more confident that he wouldn’t be outmatched easily, what with his multitude of souls and supernatural buffs. It didn’t matter if his opponent was multiple times his size, or that he was revered as an ancient species. Alucard would make his show of strength toward the dragon in an effort to make it back off, and if that plan didn’t work, he would defeat Alduin soundly.

The beast sent another raze of fire directly at Alucard. Having tested the strength of Alduin’s fire, Alucard didn’t even bother to move. The fire blew past him in a hot wave, causing his flesh to sizzle. He didn’t care, as the pain and damage were only momentary. As soon as the attack ceased, his skin knitted together anew.

“Your attacks are completely useless against me,” Alucard said, matter of factly. He wasn’t intending to boast, just stating the facts. “I ask that you cease this foolishness now.”

It was unclear whether the beast understood Alucard’s command, but it did not like the tone of Alucard’s voice. Instead of calming him down like Alucard intended, his indifference towards the attacks seemed to offend Alduin. The dragon bared his teeth at Alucard and sent waves of fire his way, redoubling his efforts to harm him.

The beast uttered a series of strange sounds again, breaking into an almighty roar, “Iiz Slen Nus!”

Instantaneously, Alucard felt his body become fixed to the spot. A glance down showed that he was encased in a cold prison of ice and rooted into the ground. He was able to break free from a measly prison like this in a single blow, but he was rather curious to see what trump card the dragon thought he was holding over him. Then, a flash appeared in the sky, and Alucard watched as meteor rocks fell towards the earth in lines of amber, headed straight towards him.

Alucard raised his brows at the surprise attack, slight laughter escaping his lips, “weather manipulation? How interesting. I’ve never been hit by meteors before.”

Alucard kept his gaze on the rocks as they fell. All the while, he remained infuriatingly calm, almost contemplative, as the meteors met their mark, collapsing on top of him in deafening booms. A moment of stillness fell after the rush of impact, all of Sovngarde silent.

Alduin waited with bated breath, eyes scouring the land to pick up any signs of life. After two seconds of dead silence, Alduin let out a majestic roar, as if to celebrate his victory.

The meteors left a huge mess in their wake. Dust and fire added to the mess of the landscape, and the resulting shockwave from the collisions ripped trees and plants clean out of the ground, roots and all. The crude stonehenge that once decorated the adjacent garden was demolished entirely - what remained was little more than dust and sand - any structures were gone without a trace.

Certainly, the force of the meteors killed Alucard as well, obliterating his body and crushing him to a pulp. However, as he faded from consciousness, he departed from life with little else but a faint smile on his face. He knew too well that death would only be temporary - dhampirs like him were immortal, after all.

It barely took any time before Alucard’s body started to revive. Splattered blood and gore gathered back towards the centre mass of his body, re-shaping his humanoid form. As his body healed, his damaged features were overtaken by a roiling mass of black, leaving only the glint of his eyes, teeth and hair. He looked every bit the monster he was.

Alucard shook his head, as if disappointed by the dragon’s premature celebration, “don’t let down your guard now. You’d need much more than that to take me out.”

Alduin narrowed his eyes, almost as if to contemplate the curious nature of Alucard’s being. Upon closer inspection, Alucard’s aura was similar to his, what with so many unfortunate souls stockpiled into a single body.

It was evident that Alucard had the upper hand right now, but Alduin could sense that the tides of fate were about to swing in his favour. While Alucard’s death had only been temporary, Alduin’s soul fog was still able to make use of it as a power source. Alduin felt the life force coursing through his body after the absorption, raw energy pulsing through his veins.

Alduin snuffled at the discovery, a curious sound between smugness and delight. He circled the air for a few moments as he tried to figure out how to use this new information to his advantage.

Meanwhile, Alucard grew foolishly overconfident seeing Alduin circle up above, as if the latter was unsure of how to launch the next attack. Too impatient to wait for Alduin’s next move, Alucard resolved to go on the offensive, this time around.

“How about this, dragon - I’ll fight you on even terms, my fire against yours!”

With a twirl of his coat, Alucard sent a dark wave of fireballs towards the dragon, large nuke-like orbs that exploded in a deadly shower, much like Alduin’s meteors. The dragon allowed the potent attack to glance off his hide in an unimpressed snort. He seemed to be fire repellent, for the flames disappeared as soon as they made contact, as if snuffed out by the material of its scales.

Alucard shrugged. No matter; it was only natural for a dragon to have fire resistant abilities. What surprised Alucard was that he was having fun with it, showing off his powers and testing the dragon’s limits in return. While he did not find pleasure in taking lives, he could admit that fighting like this was rather enjoyable.

Assuming that he had full knowledge of the dragon’s powers, Alucard had every intention of putting a swift end to the fight. He leapt up into the air, materialising his lance to slash at Alduin without further warning. Alduin hissed, blood welling at the scratch, and immediately batted the man out of the sky with a hard thwack, sending Alucard crashing through trees and foliage.

Alduin knew he had to keep a wide berth between him and the dhampir. Allowing Alucard too close would be a huge risk right now.

To keep Alucard preoccupied, Alduin summoned dark figures that arose out of the shadows to attack Alucard as he was down. While Alucard was skilled, the sheer number meant that he had to back off momentarily. Performing several backflips, Alucard gained some distance from the attackers, before rushing back into the fray and killing them all with his lance and short sword, one weapon grasped in each bloody hand.

All the while, Alduin made sure to be sly about it. He froze Alucard with sheets of ice, rendering him immobile, and had his soul fog ensnare soul after soul until he was almost bursting with power. With a litany of complex enchantments, Alduin summoned waves of his minions to rise within the fog and attack Alucard, pushing him back and keeping him sufficiently distracted from Alduin’s masterplan.

Contrarily, Alucard grew increasingly complacent and unhurried with his attacks. From his perspective, the dragon had done little else but to entrap him and attack him with non-fatal blows.

The sudden change in Alduin’s fighting style confused Alucard greatly. The dragon hadn’t seemed too disappointed in Alduin’s revival and kept overwhelming him with a sequence of attacks, making sure to kill Alucard and have him give up one of his souls every so often.

After some thought, Alucard figured the dragon was not sure what to make of his revivals, and merely thought that killing him over and over again would seal the deal. Too bad that was not the case - the dragon would run out of stamina much quicker than he could defeat all of Alucard’s reserves.

Unbeknownst to Alucard, this fell right into Alduin’s plan. Distracted by the attacks, Alucard didn’t notice Alduin’s soul fog congregating at each site of his deaths, pulsing as it absorbed the remnant life force.

“Killing me won’t do you any good, dragon.” Alucard said, almost pitying the creature for trying to achieve the impossible.

Alucard leapt up from the ground, teleporting with a dash of his sword to close the distance between them and meeting the dragon at close-quarters. He had various weapons at his disposal, but preferred using his family heirlooms as his default weapons: a sword and lance, in each hand, readied for attack. Now that the dragon was within arms reach, Alduin brought his sword down in a wide arc, intending on cleaving the unyielding dragonscales open with a forceful blow.

However, he wasn’t met with the easy battle as expected. Quick as a flash, almost too fast for Alucard to keep track of, the dragon turned in a graceful arc, whiplashing his tail and sending Alucard careening out of the sky. Without any warning, Alucard lost his balance and tumbled onto the ground heavily, leaving a large, steaming crater in his wake as his hardened body dug into the ground.

The dragon sensed an opening and immediately swooped down to puncture Alucard’s torso, snapping it clean open with a sharp motion of its jaw. Alduin kept up the offence: biting, clawing and scratching at Alucard, barely a second between his attacks in order to prevent Alucard from reviving.

Alucard struggled to see through the bloodbath. All too late, he realised that with each of his deaths, the mystery fog pulsed with power, as if absorbing his power through the lost lives. He glared up at the dragon, a scowl forming on his immaculate features, “you sneaky creature.”

"Meyye! Tahrodiis aanne! Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan!" The dragon roared.

Alucard didn’t speak the language, but even through the language barrier, it was clear to him that Alduin was gloating, taking him for a fool.

And indeed, a fool he’d been. Alucard cursed under his breath. He’s not sure what trick Alduin used, but it was clear that he’d been secretly powering up this entire time. The longer they’d battled, the stronger Alduin became. While Alucard had grown sloppy and bored with his attacks, Alduin waited for the right moment to strike. Alucard’s brows furrowed - the dragon was a lot more tactical than he’d given him credit for. Maybe they were more similar in nature than he thought.

With some difficulty, he concentrated just enough between the critical attacks to transform his body. He burst into a cloud of dark green, escaping as poisonous mist between the dragon’s claws.

Alduin reacted quickly, immediately sending a roar of fire and burning the gas up, reverting Alucard into his usual form. With a flick of his Twilight Cloak, Alucard shielded himself from a second attack with barely a second to lose. Still unused to Alduin’s spike in speed, Alucard used his sword to dash away from Alduin’s reach, movements still sluggish as his limbs took their sweet time to rejuvenate.

"Hin sille fen nahkip bahloki!" The dragon roared triumphantly, sensing weakness in Alucard’s haggard form. He didn’t give Alucard any time to find his bearings before dive-bombing in a series of attacks again.

This time, Alucard knew better than to simply dodge the dragon’s offence; their speeds had levelled out and a battle of attrition would not do him any good - he’d likely lose. He’d been lucky enough that his transformation abilities caught Alduin unaware the first time. However, if Alduin got used to his powers, Alucard would lose the small edge he still had in the fight.

Instead, Alucard searched for ways to take the terrain to his advantage, leaping out of the mysterious fog that was stealing his life energy. He used his dashes to teleport into the shadows, losing the dragon’s attention momentarily. It wasn’t just to hide, but to buy time for Alucard’s next plan. With all of the dead minions strewn about the arena, he could employ Alduin’s strategy as well. Muttering a spell, he ripped and absorbed the souls of the beings around him. His body glowed as the powers transferred into him. While it was not as much as would like, he hoped it was enough to tip the scales in his favour.

As the dragon soared about in search of him, Alucard knew that he only had one chance to carry out this attack. Carefully, he aimed the angle just right to get a good drop on Alduin, using his vampiric wings to dash right behind the dragon. As soon as he was positioned, he summoned his weapons and let gravity do the work for him. Timing his swing as he fell, he slashed his weapons straight down, landing a powerful, piercing blow on the dragon.

Alduin howled, twisting just out of the way at the last second to block the vicious attacks with his claws. He snapped at him with a malicious bite of his jaws, taking a chunk out of Alucard’s shoulder, severing his muscle and making him lose grip on the blade. With some concentration, Alucard kicked the blade up with his foot, healing his arm just enough to find the strength to catch it on the up-twirl.

Not wanting to let go of his advantage, Alucard dashed upward once more, turning transparent and sinking straight through the dragon’s body to end up behind the dragon again. Detaching his cloak, he used it to encircle the dragon into a makeshift prison, pressing closer and closer.

However, before Alucard could take advantage of the position, Alduin shot him off his back with a strong gust of fire.

Alduin must have realised how Alucard gained his immortality, because he didn’t send out any more minions for Alucard to replenish his health with. He merely circled the arena, waiting for Alucard’s next move.

Alucard steadied himself - he had to fight carefully from here on out. Though he had many more lives to spare, it would be unwise to allow a repeat of what happened. Being held against the dirt floor, losing life after life… Alucard shuddered at the memory, an unpleasant twist on his lips.

“We’re alike,” Alucard told the dragon, though he wasn’t sure if he’d understand, “but, I believe I’m still the stronger, out of the two of us.” He says firmly.

Filled with resolve, Alucard flew up into the sky, locking his arms firmly around the dragon’s neck. Like a beast tamer, he wrested the dragon into submission. No matter how Alduin looped and thrashed, Alucard held fast to his scaly neck, where none of his powerful attacks could reach. Alucard’s hands burned from the heat emanating from the dragon’s throat, but he kept steady, holding on and building up the necessary power to put an end to the long, bloody fight.

Alduin tried his hardest to cast Alucard back to the ground, flying so high it seemed like they were touching the constellations up above. Alucard’s face and hands grew numb and painful with frostbite. Minions crawled up and down Alduin’s spine, trying to land a hit on Alucard and send him spiralling back down to earth.

However, Alucard stubbornly held on, biding time and waiting for the golden opportunity to concentrate his powers and strike true. Finally, in a moment when Alduin’s attacks lapsed, Alucard used the spike of his lance to strike directly down through the crown of Alduin’s head, piercing through the dragon’s skull and jaw.

Alduin shrieked in a flurry of pain and panic. Gradually, he started circling down towards the ground, flailing as he spurted blood from his wound. Despite the strike directly through his head, the dragon’s constitution was remarkable, and it took a few dozen blows to truly kill him. Alucard sped up, summoning his sword in his other hand, and striking Alduin again and again. The stabs blinded Alduin and ripped his jaw apart, making it so that he was unable to attack or chant any more spells.

As they fell back down onto the arena, Alucard took until the last second before jumping off the dragon’s back and dashing a safe distance away. Alduin struggled to pick himself up but was unable to do so with the many puncture wounds across his body. Slowly, a pool of blood drained on the ground, turning black as it cooled. The dragon’s thrashes grew weaker until he only twitched occasionally, all the while staring at Alucard with his one workable eye.

“Zu’u unslaad… Zu’u nis oblaan…” Alduin groaned, before stilling. His eyes grew misty as he faded into another realm.

Alucard straightened up after watching the life fade out of the beast’s eyes, grimly satisfied. He won that battle by the skin of his teeth. Over-confident in his own powers, Alucard had taken the dragon lightly and let things get a little too close for comfort. Still, he’d come out the other side breathing, as expected.

“Not bad,” He said after regarding Alduin’s silent form for a moment. His lips curved into a serene smile, “I’m surprised that you almost got the drop on me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he dispelled his weaponry. With the dragon defeated, Sovngarde was dead silent, hauntingly so in the wake of this outcome.

“I’m sorry that it ended this way - I only did what I had to.” He said solemnly.

Without another backward glance, Alucard walked back up the steps and through the portal. Save for the inert form and the utter destruction of the landscape, it was as if he was never there.

WINNER: ADRIAN FAHRENHEIT TEPES

#writing commissions #writing request #writing commission #commissions open #commissions #commission tag #writing

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writesfic · 3 months

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fandoms.

games: until dawn, the last of us 1 & 2, celeste, detroit: become human, fire emblem: three houses, fire emblem: engage, a way out, soma (2015), uncharted

shows: teen wolf, supernatural, merlin, kingsman, hannibal, wednesday, it, sherlock, marvel mcu, stranger things, mo dao zu shi, bad buddy, true beauty

literature: the hunger games, harry potter, call me by your name, twilight, a picture of dorian grey, the great gatsby

animanga: attack on titan, jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia, kuroko's basketball, sword art online, link click, death note, 19 days, erased (dake machi), owari no seraph, free!, no. 6, detective conan, haikyuu, the promised neverland, babylon

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writesfic · 3 months

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m x trans f excerpt

warnings: non-con, rough sex, name-calling, slapping, ddlg, d*ck humiliation, under negotiated kink

derek doesn't stop fucking her through the pain. he knows full well (has done this enough times to know) that sluts like her end up liking whatever he gives them. he just focuses on the sensation of her hole fluttering around his cock, milking and sucking at his length like its wants his cum. her body's already being honest enough, it's only a matter of time before her protests to run out, for her to start whining and moaning when the pleasure hits a peak and she's no longer able to deny herself.

he loosens his grip - no possibility of her running now. she has both her hands on the tile like a good bitch, levering each of derek's thrusts into her tight hole. instead, he shifts his hands to her fat ass, spreading the flesh so he's able to appreciate the view of his thick cock sinking into the soft part of her hole. the flesh of her ass is a flurry of color: reddened by the unforgiving smack of his hips against her plush ass, white with the pressure of his fingertips as he digs them into her ass.

he pulls out, a sudden pause on the insistent pressure, just to watch her hole gape at the loss before sinking in and fucking her roughly all again. needing a break, he crowds her up against the shower wall, moaning appreciatively into her ear as he starts up a slow, deep grind. he tugs her hair back and watches her face, screwed up in undeniable pleasure, now.

derek himself is flushed everywhere, red creeping up his chest and neck as he pushes her body back and forth, using her in whatever way he wants like his personal fleshlight. "fuck, with such a tight hole like this, you were meant to be fucked, baby. don't know what you're doing playing with your cock of yours - all you need is this fucking hole to feel all the pleasure you need."

"what do you mean 'slow down'?" he laughs meanly. shameful pleasure is clear as day on her face. with a fisted grip on her hair, he has the best angle to watch her face screw silly with pleasure every time he sinks his cock into her. he always loves breaking his new bitches in. "you're gagging for it, slut."

"what, you can't come from your hole?" he tuts when he sees where her hands are going, wrestling them behind her immediately before she can cup her swollen, aching cock in her hands. "there's really no need to be ashamed about it. i'll teach you how, darling. i'll open your eyes so wide you see nothing but fucking pleasure."

once they start acting up, it just means that he's not going hard enough on them. to remedy this, he pulls back and resumes the brutal pace. his hand falls away from her hair, brushing it off her sweat and water slicked back messily to find purchase around her neck. with her hands and neck fully restrained, she's completely at his mercy, with the harsh grip, he's fully able to control the sway of her body, so that she's falling right back on his cock exactly as he's thrusting up, each piston of his hips drilling hard into her ass. with each thrust, his hand also digs into her neck, leaving her close to silent with no air to spare.

fingers flex against her neck once she starts to struggle, giving her the mercy of sweet air for scant seconds. he makes sure to fuck her extra good then, so that her guard is down and all her sweet moans can leak out of her when she's too battered to pretend. once her breath even threatens to even out, his fist is iron against her throat and the cycle repeats.

derek's priority is in chasing his own pleasure, first and foremost. the fact that she came would have easily slipped his attention, if not for the way she clenches up and shivers on derek's length with each flex and release of her pathetic girl-cock. the way she twitches and pulses around him is a fucking tease, as if she's begging for his cock to feed her a thick load, balls deep inside.

"god look at that, what a waste." derek says, watching the spew of white against the tile. he smacks the side of her ass, right next to her hip to watch her fat jiggle around his cock. does it a few more times for good measure when she starts to relax from the hit, right when she isn't expecting it so that her voice rings out, loud and clear for anyone in the bathroom to hear. "and who said you could come first? you naughty little whore. couldn't even wait for daddy to finish before you're creaming your motherfucking brains out, huh?"

he keeps going, ignoring how overstimulated she is from the recent orgasm. he's close, and there's nothing like fucking a sub hard until he gets exactly what he wants, pressed deep inside and unloading spurt after spurt until they're filled to the brim with his come. she's so loose after the orgasm, but each brush across her prostate has her shivering, the flex of her hole stimulating derek's cock. the little fucking tease.

he growls. it's not enough. he pulls her head back and slaps her across the face this time, rousing her from the post-orgasm haze. he's briefly satisfied when the jolt makes her clamp down hard on his length. "tighten up. you're too fucking loose to get me off, bitch." he laughs, "i'd threaten to keep you here and fuck you all day until i come, but i think you'd like that a little too much."

#writing #nsfw commission

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writesfic · 1 year

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mono - porcelain; pearl.

The signal of the tower is ringing in his ears. As he falls inches from the exit, he only see her, the outstretched hand, the dash of yellow and the pointed tip of her hat until she is nothing but a yellow smudge high above him.

He falls and falls and falls. When he lands, the mounds of viscera catch him, cradle the blow of the impact. He hates it, shies away, but the matter is everywhere he turns. He cannot escape.

Mental walls are not strong enough to see past the fleshy exteriors of the wall, and he spends most his time blindly patting them, searching for the undulations, hoping to find an exit from his search.

After a few hundred rounds, he has to concede, there is no exit. The more he investigates, the more he realizes his power resides within the power, how the structure pulses and warps under his control, the master of puppet strings.

He is tired.

In his mind, now effortless, he conjures a chair, sits.

As the tower ripples with his diminishing powers, he sits and contemplates, that girl he had saved those years ago, that bright smear of her raincoat taunting him.

In fitful sessions, he manages to elude the world and slip into a dream. Instead of the viscera that’s grown as his backdrop over the years, there is a porcelain pearl world awaiting, a wash of clean white.

The tower is eternally in the distance. He recognises the static he’s surrounded by, the sort of world that would be without him in this tower, the utter annihilation of his presence and the magnetic glow of radio static is for the people around him.

He imagines a world where she’d closed that distance, had latched onto his hands with hers. A warm foundation of trust, the same way he had freed her from the stranglehold in the schoolyard, her stubby little fingers clawing at the rope around her neck as she’d struggled.

He imagines being with her, escaping somewhere, anywhere. He closes his eyes and imagines the rocking of a boat, the vastness of the sea.

When he wakes up to darkness, he sits in the memory of the chance he’d lost, and seethes.

#found this sitting in my drafts #think i wrote this after watching gameplay of ln2 which was 2 yrs ago lmfaooo #welp #little nightmare mono #ln2 mono #little nightmare #little nightmares #writing

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writesfic · 1 year

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change / recovery / growth

mo guan shan doesn’t realize how much he’s changed over the summer. weeks can span like a lifetime. the lingering bruises on his face don’t show splotches anymore, but he still remembers the oblong splashes of purple against his skin. he remembers the scratch of the bandages and the ache in his heart that’s only grown into something unnameable.

coming back to school, his skin pulls too tight over his body. he sees the same, familiar faces down the hallways, but his own feels alien when he catches sight of it in the bathroom mirror. softer, but also less pained. as the dark ring around his throat healed, it’s taken all the hurt with it too.

the absence of all that weight makes him feel functioning, like a passable human being. he says hi to his classmates, volunteers to answer a question at the front of the class, gets it wrong. it all feels so... normal.

he tian meets his eyes from his seat, smile a little fonder than before. he catches himself before doing something embarassing - like smiling back. instead, he receives the shitty lunchbox with sure hands, takes the time to savour each grain of mushy rice and the salty tang of convenience store meat.

change comes by slow and uncomfortable, but he’s slowly getting the picture. there’s no iou. what he tian has done, is doing for him, he’s unable to count any longer. it’s a debt of a lifetime; no point in keeping score. he takes peeks out of the corner of his eyes, greedy with what he can get away with. he tian still feels comfortably the same, but things between them have shifted irrevocably as spring bloomed into summer and yielded the start of autumn.

that sweet ache in his chest stings. somewhere along the line, he’s told himself that he deserving. he wishes abstractly for these endless, sweltering, halycon days where he feels nigh on invincible to never end. he gets to have this. he gets to have him.

#tianshan #19 days fanfiction #19 days #He Tian #mo guan shan #jfc its been so long i have forgotten all my tags wjkdfksfk #but these few chapters have been making me sad/happy so i needed to write #writing

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writesfic · 1 year

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home

mo used to think that he tian stuck out like a sore thumb in his household when he came over, but now he seems to fit between the two of them, holding a bowl of soup that looks a bit too comically small in his large hands. he tian catches him looking and smiles at him, eyes drifting into the cresent moons he knows intimately; mo still sees the afterimage of malice that lit up his kind eyes, the tang of blood and sweat as he had thrown himself at that overheated body and sunk into his space like he’d lived there.

mo’s fingers twitch. the clock keeps ticking on the wall, loud, long. eternity. it is hell, just standing there effused in banality, waiting for time to pass so that he can find another moment with him again. mo’s dipped into the heat of his body, it’s not enough.

“the soup, it’s good.” he tian says, polite.

there’s a time where he would have felt ashamed. he would have twisted that innocuous statement to attack his own insecurities, moulded the words jagged so they could hit where it hurt. but he tian’s has shone with sincerity with all that he’s done - he’s run out of excuses, run out of blinders to tell himself otherwise. they’re poor, the soup is bland. knowing he tian, it’s probably the blandest ass soup he’s ever tasted. but he’s... he’s still here.

mo is searching for he tian’s warmth before he knows it, his fist clutched loosely around fabric, tugging at him, impatient. he doesn’t know what he wants (he does, he does) - all he knows is that he needs to be drowning in that heat, he needs to put his hands on him again.

“he tian...” mo whispers into the quiet of his bedroom, and then he feels the rough palm of a bandaged hand against his. god, when he touches him its like his heart stablizes - his hands are shaking but his mind is clear.

slowly, delicately, he inches forward, fingers lifting, tracing up the collar of his shirt, shy and slow, until he can feel he tian’s pulse racing against his fingertips. he tian’s eyes are so dark, flickering down to his parted lips intermittently, waiting for him to draw them together.

mo breathes out, close enough to feel he tian’s breath against him, and he slots forward. the soft press of he tian’s lips, the hot warmth of his hands stroking his back, the cords of his neck moving under his palms as his jaw works; it’s making him lightheaded. he can’t stop kissing him, breaths coming out of him in desperate spurts, the slick soft sounds of their lips moving together into the quiet - his heart is burning with it, trembling and full.

where they’re connected, he tian strokes over his knuckles tenderly, and it’s like that last piece of uncertainty falls away. it’s like his world has tilted, falling into place.

(come home with me, he tian asked him, blood smeared across his face.

he is. he is home, mo presses the answer against he tian’s lips.)

#tianshan #19 days #19 days update #mo guan shan #he tian #its 3 am so no proofreading #u kno how it #just delirious rambling bc my heart is full #writing

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writesfic · 2 years

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ch 380. 靠肩

The salaryman’s already fucked off, hiking his glasses up and picking up the pace through rain. The stare makes me vindictive, all edges. I never thought I’d feel so protective over the tension building namelessly between us.

“Scared to be seen?” You whisper, breaths hot against the shell of my ear.

It’s too late to ask that when you’ve already seen all of me. Fingerprint bruises in a ring around my throat, the sting of my frustrated eyes. That day, you looked into my eyes and saw my lonely existence and cried. The kiss you pressed to my cheek like I was something delicate, the most excruciating part of it all.

I lean my temple against the warm curve of your shoulder, allow my body to be cocooned against yours. You know my answer by now. I’m not scared anymore.

#tianshan #tianshan fanfiction #19 days #19 days fanfiction #the update was so fucking cute i'm deceased.#this is cheesy but in my defence SO ARE THEY #writing

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writesfic · 2 years

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i went to the icu, you’re out of critical today. lights are off and the corridors are empty by 10pm but i sit by you, dizzying relief: i’m just glad to see you breathe. i truly didn’t think you’d make it through the night. the doctor jokes, i thought you didn’t have it in you, and the laughter seizes up in my throat. i took the train home yesterday knuckles white on the suitcase handle, wondering if the next time i saw your face would come right before the crematory. today, i sit by you and watch you breathe.

#poetry #writing

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writesfic · 2 years

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blight (oc commission)

nsfw under the cut

warnings: inc.est, mild dub-con, nsfw, vague references to neglect

Alex never likes meeting his own eyes in the mirror. He’s always seen a propensity for anger behind them, how they could turn dark and unkind. These days, he checks religiously to make sure that the whites of his eyes are intact.

They’ve just wrapped up a case in Boulder, Colorado. He’d call it successful - they’d exorcized the demon from the poor girl’s body and sent it back to hell. Still, demons were nasty, slippery motherfuckers and he didn’t escape unscathed.

He rolls his t-shirt up gingerly, sucking in a breath when he sees the gash on his side. It feels like there’s something alive, roiling and twisting just under his skin. It’s been over a day by now, but the wound still feels fresh.

His hand strays to the burner phone. He flips the brick around in his palm in a practiced motion. Still no messages, no calls. He’d call Dad about the blight, but it’d sting worse if he didn’t pick up. After another moment of deliberation, Alex pockets the phone, letting it settle heavy along his thigh.

He lowers his shirt, rubbing a hand gingerly over the mark before steeling himself and heading out. As long as Ben doesn’t have to know, he thinks. The kid would worry sick if he knew about it.

Ben smirks as he catches sight of Alex rounding back to the car, “stomach problems?”

Alex schools his features and rolls his eyes, “I take five minutes in the crapper and you’re already whining. Suck it up.”

Ben rolls his eyes, used to the unnecessary vulgarity. It’s more likely that he knows Alex is hiding something and doesn’t want to push too early. Ben doesn’t say a word about his behavior and the two drive on down the highway.

As they pick up speed, Ben keeps sending him obvious glances through the rear-view mirror. Alex is irritated by it, sure, but it only goes to show that his decision to keep the blight from his brother was the right one.

Alex meets Ben’s gaze overhead, strangely irritated when the latter averts his gaze, “what?”

Ben only shakes his head, lips thinning. Experience proves that when Alex is itching for a fight, anything will set him off. They’re trying to make good time today and cross the border just shy of 100 miles. The idea of sitting next to his brother when he’s being a passive aggressive asshole sounds painful - it’s better to let things lie.

Alex must feel bad for snapping or something, because he nudges Ben's thigh with his knee, “hey, since it’s your birthday, let’s go out for a night out. It’s been a while, we should celebrate a little.”

Ben sighs, “I swear to god, if this is your excuse to drag me to some strip-club in a seedy part of town - ”

“Nah, let’s just grab some good ol’ grease and then go for drinks somewhere quiet,” Alex shakes his head, “I’m still hurting in places that I didn’t know could hurt from the last hunt.”

Ben snorts, “I don’t know what you’re mean, I feel perfectly fine. Though I’m sure you need plenty of rest, old man.”

“Just concentrate on the fucking road,” Alex snaps, but there’s a telling grin on his lips. “You want time off to party tonight, you better drive like your life's on the line.”

Ben shrugs. He’s down to celebrate his birthday, sure, but he wants to figure out what’s going on with Alex a lot more. Still, he humors his brother, feeling pretty good-natured despite the slight unease at the back of his mind, “hmm, why not?”

“Nice. I’ll even splash out on the good liquor for your sweet eighteen, how’s that sound?

“I’m not the alcoholic here,” Ben gripes.

Alex grins, “there’s still time to convert you. I’m not worried.”

What they end up with is a lot less glamorous than Alex promised. They end up in bumfuck nowhere, the single diner in the center of town the only island of light. The two of them are hungry and tired enough to stop there for the night.

They’re pretty hungry, focused on digging into their meals, but Alex notices a brunette looking over at them out of the corner of his eye. Alex is no stranger to appreciative stares, but this seems like something else. When she gets up from her table and approaches them, his hackles raise.

Ben seems to light up at the sight of her, though. Alex hides his frown with a bite of over-salted food. Someone he knows?

“Lissa!”

“I didn’t know the Beckams were passing through town,” she smiles, teeth blinding and straight. She leans in closer, hands perching on the edge of their table to whisper conspiratorially, “was there… you know, a case?”

Alex has a vague recollection of her; they’d met a while back hunting a werewolf. She was sassy as much as she was studious, with bright, cautious eyes. Ben had taken a clear liking to her back then, but Alex wasn’t privy to how long that connection had lasted.

“You two seem even closer than before.” Alex tries to tease Ben about it, but half of it gets stuck in his throat. It sounds more like an accusation, and it’s too late for him to backpedal.

Ben shrugs modestly, “yeah, well, we stayed in touch.”

“I hope I’m not bothering? I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to ask experts about the supernatural,” she fills in where Alex forgets to reply, “you guys must take on cases like mine every other month, but… what happened that day really changed my life. Opened up a whole new can of worms for me.”

She pulls down the collar of her shirt. There are an assortment of tassels around her neck, Alex identifies certain essentials for warding and protection, like thistle, copal and willow bark.

Ben’s gaze lingers at her nape, a small smile on his lips. She seems to notice, cheekbones flushing at his steady gaze. Lips quirk and she finds the confidence to pick one of the charms to display, pleased as pie, “I did my research.”

“Monkshood,” Ben grins. His fingers linger at her neck and she averts her gaze, pleased, “you did a good job with the protection charm - some of these things aren’t easy to find.”

Alex refrains from rolling his eyes. That was a fucking lie; the shit sold on e-bay.

Ben smiles at her, painfully obvious.

“Say, Ben, are you free tonight? My friends and I are bar-hopping; you’re welcome to join us.”

“Look, Lisa or whatever,” Alex cuts in, “we’ve had a long day and we’re just looking to grab a quick dinner. Catch up next time, okay?”

She seems too polite to cuss him out, but her eyes are scorching, “Lissa’s short for Melissa.”

“Ignore my brother, he’s been cranky all day. We can have fun without him,” Ben scoffs.

It’s nothing Ben hasn’t done before. Heck, Alex was the one who started doing it in the first place. He has a bad track record of dumping Ben at bars to smash - it’s a running joke. Funny. He doesn’t know why Ben’s response makes the anger at his chest grow tighter.

“No,” he snaps. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but it feels like something new. Branding his torso with impulsivity. The diner is too small, too hot; another second sat at the stupid booth and he’s going to explode. “Fuck off.”

Lissa looks at Ben, but Ben’s too busy looking at his brother with puzzled frustration to meet her eyes.

Ben smiles, tight-lipped and apologetic, “sorry.”

She doesn’t look put out, but pats Ben on the shoulder as she leaves, “just an offer. Word of advice, don’t let your brother push you around so much.”

You know nothing about us, Alex wants to say. There’s a hot, vicious stab of satisfaction as he burns that bridge.

“What the hell,” Ben snaps, watching her go. “I thought you wanted to celebrate my birthday.”

Alex doesn't have a proper response, left only with a lingering buzz of conflict beneath trembling skin. He shakes his head, ignoring the way Ben’s eyes sear into his temple.

“Just tired.”

---

As the night bleeds into morning, they hop back onto the road, mood properly destroyed by Alex’s erratic behavior. The road is a long, formless stretch and despite Alex’s best efforts, he keeps dozing off, oscillating between bouts of wakefulness and sleep.

His brother’s face is bruised and bloody under his shaky palms. Ben looks up at him mutely, as if to incite his move. He lunges to attack, but as soon as his fist encloses Ben’s neck, a knife sinks expertly between his ribs, parting skin, muscle, bone - he jolts awake, gasping and clutching at his chest. The pain is undeniable now. The blight is getting much worse.

Alex loses track of how long he drifts. When he comes to, it’s Ben shaking him awake with muted worry in his eyes. Alex jolts at the touch; there’s something infectious about the way his palm lingers. Eyes dart to Ben cautiously, wondering if he’d felt the same energy caught between the touch, but Ben gives no indication. Instead, he dangles a set of silver motel keys from a long finger.

“It’s raining too hard to keep driving. We’re calling it a day.”

Alex peers out of the window, and sure enough, there’s a waterlogged motel sign, blinking in the darkness.

Alex takes the first shower but he’s still too keyed up to sleep, channel surfing in hopes to settle the incessant pain just beneath his ribs. He almost misses it when Ben opens the bathroom door, a plume of steam following.

“Hey, where’d you put the bar soap?”

It’s a cue for Alex to tease Ben about his high standards for hygiene but it’s like his strings are cut. He’s forgotten how to play his role. He’s fixated on the droplets rolling off Ben’s shoulders, the barest hint of a tan along his collar. The accompanying bolt of want is so strong that Alex struggles to breathe through it.

Ben’s too distracted to notice, rummaging through their belongings with his back turned. When he finally grows aware of Alex’s silence, he looks over his shoulder, a question on the tip of his tongue.

When Ben meets Alex’s expression, he falters, feeling oddly transparent. He’s never been shy about nudity around his brother - they’ve been through thick and thin together; what’s a lack of clothing going to change? Yet, the way Alex looks at him… he tamps down an urge to cover himself.

“...’Lex?”

“Ben…” Alex’s voice is hoarse. When he looks up at him, Alex’s gaze promises violence; his eyes are so dark that they look demonic.

Finally, the tension breaks. Alex spurs into action and the pain of the blight lessens. He slams his weight forward, tipping them both over into the bathroom. The shower’s still running hot, the room foggy and slippery with condensation as they grapple at each other, trying to find balance.

Ben backs up into the shower wall - it's a miracle that the glass doesn’t shatter under their combined weight. Hands slip for purchase until Ben finally grips onto the towel bar to push back against Alex.

There’s a struggle, fingers grappling against water-slick skin to land a good hit, but what astonishes Ben is that there isn’t any threat, just his brother pushing a clothed leg between his thighs, teeth biting hard against his jaw trying to draw blood.

When they were younger, they had play-fights with all teeth and no kindness. The grin he catches in a flash before Alex’s teeth meet his pulse point is competitive and familiar, almost daring him to pull away.

Alex teases a reaction out of him. The heat of his mouth has Ben breathing hard, arching into the pain despite the litany of half-formed refusals on his tongue.

Alex growls, a hint of warning on his breath before reaching down with a hand, callused and warm, to enclose his bare cock. It punches a moan out of Ben, the sound bouncing off the bathroom tiles.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, hips jerking, “Lex, what the fuck are you doing? Stop.”

“Shut up, Benny,” Alex says. He uses the phrase so often that it sounds painfully normal, despite their situation. If Ben was in a better frame of mind, he may have managed a disbelieving huff.

Under the skillful ministrations, Ben sinks back against the wall, trembling as Alex keeps stroking. The angle is awkward at first - it’s not quite the same as doing it to yourself - but Alex flexes his wrist and changes the angle. His fingers brush just under the head, the pace fast and punishing, applying friction where Ben sorely needed it. Ben’s legs tremble.

“Alex, you have to stop, I’m going to…!”

Alex only quickens the pace until Ben’s gasping, arching under the water and losing himself to sensation. The breathy sounds of his orgasm are lost under the shower. There’s a rational part of him that’s screaming for him to push his brother away, but he’s pinned by the way Alex looks at him. He only manages to clutch at Alex, riding out the waves of pleasure as Alex keeps his hand tight around him, just shy of too much.

The shower removes most of the mess, but there are clear stains on Alex’s jeans. Ben’s hands shift to remove the evidence, but Alex’s hands join him and suddenly, they’re both stripping Alex down, until he’s standing clad in his boxers, tented with desire.

Alex’s hand automatically pulls Ben closer, desperate for contact. Hips cant upward, grinding against the wet divot of Ben’s hip.

“Not like this,” Ben pleads, not sure what he’s asking for, but Alex immediately complies, pushing wordlessly at Ben’s waist. Ben allows Alex to maneuver him at will, eyes fluttering as Alex mouth latches on his neck like a magnet to suck and bite, hands large and warm against his back.

Then, as their bodies draw closer, the weight of Alex’s cock presses against the divot of his ass, and Ben feels a frisson of alarm. What Alex wants isn’t something Ben can give so easily, especially so, when his brother isn’t in the right frame of mind. Still, if Alex says the word…

Shakily, he turns around, palms flat on the bathroom tile.

“What are you going to do?” Ben asks, apprehensive.

“Like this,” Alex explains, bracketing Ben’s thighs with his before shoving them closer. He brushes his cock between his cleft a few times, teasing his hole slightly with the head, before finally sliding it between Ben’s thighs. Ben bites his lip at the feeling, moaning softly. Alex’s cock brushes him everywhere: his legs, against the underside of his cock - it’s addictive.

There’s a rational part that keeps telling Ben to pull away, but he can’t quite form a thought with all the sensations coursing through his body. He only manages to keeps his thighs tight, flexing so that Alex can fuck them better. He’s always been bad at denying his brother anything.

Alex draws a finger down the middle line of his back, sending a shiver down his spine, before spreading his cheeks and massaging his hole with a finger.

Ben’s too surprised to suppress a deep groan, eyes shuttering at the touch. He’s never been touched with purpose back there before, not with this slow, unguarded appreciation, massaging and dipping into his entrance like there’s all the time in the world. His cock is fully hard again, the teasing making him ache with nameless want.

They’re both close, but Alex breaks first, leaking out grunts and moans next to Ben’s ear as he peaks. He thrusts hard and demanding as he chases his own pleasure, fingertips clenching hard enough to bruise on Ben’s hips until he finally spills, releasing hot and messy stripes against Ben’s thighs.

Ben jerks himself off, fast and desperate before the hot and blinding pleasure consumes his senses. He passes over the edge shaking like a leaf at the strength of his orgasm, Alex curled up against his back.

After a long wordless wait for their breaths to settle, Alex pulls away without speaking.

“Alex?” Ben asks cautiously.

“We’re not talking about this,” Alex says gruffly. He seems particularly interested in studying the bathroom tiles, “this... didn’t happen.”

“Alex.”

Finally, Alex looks up to meet Ben’s gaze, though it’s not what he’s expecting. Ben’s glaring a hole through his chest, studying the blight that’s showing through the translucent undershirt as water pours over their chests.

Ben shuts the water off. The last trickles of water on tile cast them into a deafening silence.

Silently, they both look at each other. Ben’s gaze is poisonous and full of vengeful promise, “you better tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Alex, helpless, sorry and too tired to resist, tells him everything.

Ben doesn’t know what to say after that. They both dry off and clean up in silence, backs to one another. They’ve taken showers like this before when they were younger to save water. It feels like repetition of the motions, like a sick parody in light of everything that’s happened.

Ben swallows, throat tight, and tries to think about nothing at all.

Instead of trying for sleep, they’re back at the only diner that’s willing to serve god-awful-early in the morning. All traces of their altercation earlier that night have been washed away, save for stinging bruises.

Alex motions for Ben to stay in the truck, returning a few moments later with two styrofoam boxes of diner grease and some sweet, sweet alcohol. Ben knows the routine like the back of his hand and drives unprompted. After a particularly shitty hunt or argument, they always end up at some unspecified expanse, where there are no lights and the sky yawns like a chasm overhead, like the universe is just in reach. Today, Ben drives in search of one.

They settle for a corn field a few miles out of town. The engine dies and sputters, leaving them alone in anxious silence. They don’t speak, the only sound being the rustle of plastic and utensils.

Ben waits a few minutes, but patience was never his strong suit. Alex would rather die before breaching the subject first. Ben sighs. He knows Alex too well by now to muster true anger at this point. He settles for a deep exasperation of Alex’s vices, “you should have come to me for help. The blight is clearly affecting you.”

“I thought I was handling it, okay? I know I fucked up. Spectacularly.”

Ben thinks he sees Alex’s hands trembling around the beer bottle; hell, they’re both vibrating with stress, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’s not sure why he feels so irrationally angry about it, but he has to stop himself from balling his fists.

“Stop it. I know it was just the blight. It wasn’t something you could control,” Ben snaps back. “Don’t apologize for something you weren’t in the right mind for. I don’t give a shit about that, I just don’t want you to lose your goddamn mind.

“Not knowing what’s happening to you, having to guess whether you’re doing alright, even when you’re right here - it sucks.”

Alex remains silent for a long time. Rubbing his fingers nervously along the bottle, drawing lines of condensation into the cool surface.

Ben’s dying to look at him, but he’s worried that his brother’s only working up the courage to respond in the darkness, where the lights can’t pick up the emotion in his eyes.

“You’re right.”

Ben’s jaw drops, and he whips his head to face Alex, pretense forgotten. He’s never seen his brother like this, vacant and defeated, staring out into the distance.

Alex admits bitingly, “I know, I shouldn’t have tried to keep it to myself. I clearly need help. What I did to you… that wasn’t right.”

Ben reaches across the yawning distance to put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, ignoring the way he flinches from the touch. His brother’s lackadaisical and insouciant nature has always been an inherent part of their interactions. While irritating, Ben hates seeing him any other way.

“I don’t care,” Ben says firmly. “You didn’t - it wasn’t that bad.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Alex snaps.

“I didn’t hate it.” Ben amends. As he mulls over his reply, he finds truth in it. It didn’t feel weird, or wrong - even as he’d panicked and told Alex no, his actions spoke otherwise. He’d been the only one in the right state of mind. He could have put up a fight if he truly wanted to.

“I thought I would feel different, after…” Ben shrugs, “but this still feels the same to me.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He’s never thought of Alex in that way, yet it feels like natural progression. Like an unspeakable tension that had bloomed between them over the years had finally dispersed, settling over his shoulders like relief. Like something extra he could have in his life, alongside shitty motel tv, watching shadows shift on Alex’s side profile before he fell asleep.

“I didn’t - that's not why.”

Alex’s phrasing is deliberate and painful; Ben aches hearing it.

“What do you mean?” Ben frowns.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean just to try and make me feel better,” Alex says haltingly. “I’ve always. It wasn’t the blight.”

“I didn’t know,” Ben says, shocked. His mind runs a million miles an hour; did he know? Did he suspect?

Alex couldn’t hide his emotions well. Ben had chalked off their closeness to brotherly protection and good character. He’d never thought about it any more than that. In retrospect, it comes to him, hardly as an epiphany, but like returning to a familiar ground. Adjacent puzzle pieces that lay side by side without ever knowing that they fit together seamlessly.

“My feelings are wrong, Benny,” Alex admits harshly, quick to self-flagellate, “you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Deal with me.”

“I’m not ‘dealing with it’,” Ben insists. “I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without you. You’re important to me and it sucks when I don’t know you’re hurting. I want to be there for you.”

“You’re right - I should be important to you, but not like that. I’m…I’m your brother. It’s sick. I’m fucked up,” Alex says, like that’s supposed to change something for Ben.

“You’re right.” Ben snaps, and Alex looks up at him, shocked. Finally, Ben catches a good look at him and there’s moisture in his eyes.

“All my life I wanted to be normal, but we’re fucking weird as shit, Alex. I learnt how to handle a gun and shoot monsters before hitting double digits. I memorized a lexicon of herbs and spices to ward off supernatural creatures in eighth grade. We have more fake IDs in our trunk than we have numbers in our contact list. The only person we have left to watch our back is dad, but he never picks up the phone when we try to call.

“Who cares if you’re fucked up? Who’s keeping count if we’re a little more fucked up today than we were yesterday?

“What happened between us, it felt… it felt right. Like the start of something good, for once in our shitty lives. Why can’t we just have this?” Ben pleads.

He loops an arm around Alex’s shoulder and pulls, impulsive. Alex goes with it, too shocked to object, but Ben hears his mind running in overdrive. Alex is all frozen up, rigid in his hold, but he’s a solid, comforting weight against Ben’s side nonetheless. No matter the resistance Alex puts up, it's hard to deny that he isn’t supposed to just be there, tucked up next to his brother.

Alex gradually settles into his side, turning his wind-swept cheek to rest against Ben’s shoulder and burying the cold tip of his nose into Ben’s neck, making him shiver. Reading the gratitude in every line of his brother’s body, Ben smiles. It’s hardly a win, not with the blistering mark across Alex’s chest, but they’re heading in the right direction.

“We’ll figure this out,” Ben promises, fingers catching Alex’s hair, “we always do.”

#commission #writing commissions #commissions open #writing commission #commission tag #writing #nsfw commission

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writesfic · 2 years

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nightmare (oc commission)

Even before Formalhaut opens his eyes, he hears the steady blips of a heart monitor resonating in his ears. There’s something clipped to his finger. Already, he knows where he is - he’s back in the facility ward. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood cooped up in that room, idling time as he watched over his brother. He’d been fascinated by the pristine stillness of his own face, mirrored underneath him.

When he opens his eyes, he’s the one lying in bed. The hazy quality of his vision alerts him that he’s dreaming. He looks up to see his brother standing over him, a hand placed lightly on the railing as he’d done. When their gazes interlock, Formalhaut shivers. Cygnus’ eyes burn with cool dispassion; Formalhaut’s certain that he despises him.

Cygnus reaches down slowly to take him by the shoulder. Formalhaut used to do that too, latch onto him in the vain hopes of departing some comfort. Yet, there’s no good will in Cygnus’ actions. Fingers grip onto Formalhaut’s clavicle with a bruising strength. Fomalhaut feels a lance of pure, unadulterated fear, but as weak as he is, he’s unable to stop him.

Subconsciously, Formalhaut knows he’s able to muster the strength to fight back. Yet, he harbours no resolve. Like a butterfly pinned to a chalkboard, he’s splayed open for inspection and ripe for judgement.

Cygnus gouges into Formalhaut’s wings, and it feels like being torn asunder as delicate structures are ripped apart like paper. Blood runs into the bedding like the aftermath of a battlefield.

“Cygnus… I’m sorry - !” Formalhaut gasps with pain, wings fluttering weakly.

Cygnus doesn’t acknowledge his plea. “I hate it when you visit me. You look down on me, just like this. Do you know how I felt?”

“I know…” Formalhaut says, but the words feel disingenuous. How could he have known? He’d treated Cygnus for granted despite the bond they’d shared, and the sinking feelings of regret are too little, too late.

“You think you’re so smart,” another voice chimes in.

The two tones mesh and fracture against one another, grating on Formalhaut’s ears. He lifts his eyes. While Cygnus’ form is still visible, the amalgam being has Mars’ eyes. They glow softly, backlit by the overhead glare of the ward’s lighting, brimming with accusation.

“You must have loved it, being ten steps ahead of everyone else. A king on his throne playing a game of chess.” Mars sneers as Cygnus’ fingers draw new blood, “tell me Formalhaut, did you win?

Formalhaut shakes his head fiercely, but it's as if his lips are sealed shut. He isn’t able to breathe, drowning in his guilt.

“Leaving me to rot was a calculated risk,” Mars continues, a bitter smile growing on his face, “congratulations - now that all your attachments are dead, you’re finally free.”

Formalhaut wrenches away from the accusations, bringing his blankets with him to the floor. He peers blearily at his surroundings before recognising the simple decor of his apartment, and takes a deep breath to calm himself.

Shakily, he pulls open a drawer to rummage for medication. He must have forgotten to take it earlier. Swallowing the two tablets dry, it leaves an astringent taste in the back of his throat. He massages his temples, where a pounding headache threatens to overtake him.

Ever since that day, Formalhaut has always slept uneasily. He’s lucky that the nightmares have grown sparser over time, but his regrets never fade in full. A simple association can bring him back years, or worse, to a better memory. Those always hurt the worst, souring immediately in hindsight.

Gradually, he stands and pads over to the kitchen to make tea. He’s indifferent to the taste, but the routine soothes him. His fingers tighten on the kitchen counter and he closes his eyes, swaying in between reality and sleep. He still sees the ghostly images of his brothers’ eyes. As he recalls the hatred in them, the walls of the apartment press in on him, and the ghostly accusations remain oppressive and loud.

The dark thoughts are cut through with a whistle. The kettle comes to a boil, and the scent of camomile breathes some life back into him. He keeps staring at the rising coil of smoke, but can’t bring himself to drink. It’s typical of him, brain in overdrive as he watches meticulous plans fall to ashes, and the people around him gather their sorrows and move on. Years later, he still sits in that grief, left behind in the dust.

It takes a long time for his hands to stop shaking.

#writing commission #writing commissions #commissions open #commissions #commission tag #i've been neglecting to post my commissions here ... whoops #better late then never i guess #writing

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writesfic · 2 years

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ch 378. 早晨

“You’re so good to me, Little Mo,” he says. “What do I have to worry about?”

It sparks something in my chest, a gentle bloom of feeling even as my mouth forms around an automatic retort. It’s a knee-jerk reaction by now; if I don’t put a facade on, the palpitations will seize me by the chest and render me breathless, any minute.

He turns to me, heavy-lidded and loose lips, his fingers delicate on my jaw. It makes me expectant. Only a few days ago, he’d pressed a delicate impression to the side of my mouth, painfully tender. It’d be easy for him to do that again. The space between our lips is only so much -- I tremble with temptation. To keep my desires at bay, I keep my gaze steadily fixed on lazy, humored eyes.

He’s the one who breaks the moment, dipping down to rest his cheek on my chest, the tickle of his breath brushing against my skin through the thin cotton of my sleep-wear. My hand shoots up reflexively to grab, sinking into his hair and balling the fabric of his shirt. I couldn’t bear to move him, even if I really tried.

“You’re just... so good,” he whispers, almost reverently, the lines of his body melting into mine.

I bite my lip, grateful that the expression on my face is private. My charade will only takes me so far. It’s painful to be so near yet so distant, the lines of unspoken words forming a mile between us. I’m never good with words; never know what to say. Instead, I stroke his hair, brushing through the strands until my fingers meet the warmth of his scalp. His lips curve against my chest, ticklish.

I close my eyes and breathe the moment in. This has to be enough.

#tianshan #tianshan fanfiction #19 days #19 days fanfiction #idk why i always revert to 1st person for tianshan fics #it just fits #also.....#ISTG ITS NOT JUST ME #THEY BOTH WANTED TO KISS SO BAD #IN THE 2ND LAST PANEL #WHAT THE HELL #writing

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writesfic · 3 years

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tan: introspection

Tan has never been special. His mother had whispered those words to him in the womb whilst asleep. He’d lived it too, hiding the growing pangs of jealousy as he played second fiddle to Pued, time after time; struggling under the steel of Father’s gaze, as weighty expectations settled on Tan’s shoulders, threatening to crush him whole.

College is the tipping point - it redefines him. Bastard son or not, Father’s cares too much about the family’s status to enroll Tan in some back-water college in Viangpha Mork. Father needs his assets to be useful, after all. When Tan originally learns about the enrollment, he curses the man. It feels like a betrayal, like being discarded. He soon learns that it's the best decision his Father’s ever made on his behalf. College is a breath of fresh air. He learns that city life can feel like independence and freedom. More importantly, he learns that he’s has no need to fear being alone - he’s always been alone, and people around him only see what they want to see. A friend, a lover, a tool. He can present himself as whatever other’s want him to be, as long as he’s fit to play the role.

After those years apart, he returns to Viangpha Mork with new eyes. He sees no love lost in his father’s. He sees nothing: no derision, no contempt, no love. Indifference. Tan thinks it’s better this way - that way he doesn’t have to keep trying for the approval he’s never going to receive. He’ll be what he needs to be.

On the way to work, he spots the new autopsist lingering outside his establishment. It’s Bun. He makes a solitary figure as he surveys the club, yet there’s a particular slant to his shoulders that endears Tan. Tan thinks Bun is a good man, that he’s above the drudgery and filth that goes behind the scenes at Viangpha Mork. The predators here are hungry for opportunity and they won’t hesitate to take a bite out of the guy.

He thinks back to the day they’d met. Papers were sent flying and they scrambled to pick the sheets up. The air had been ripe as eyes locked; it’d felt like potential. He remembers those eyes well, deep cesspools seeing straight through him, like they could ascribe him some worth by proxy of admiration. He wishes those eyes were on him again.

Tan isn’t a good man, but he thinks his intentions are relatively genuine when he steps forward an inch to the left so that Bun retreats into his chest. When their eyes meet, Tan smiles.

#tanbunn #maxtul #tanbun #manner of death #thai bl #manner of death fanfiction #writing

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writesfic · 3 years

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If you can I would like a Marvel comics adult Spider-man x Black Cat where Felicia wants to be bred and Spider-man agrees.

hi hope you like this :v its been sitting in my drafts for a while

warning: nsfw read at your own discretion

Paris was safe. A landscape of beiges and cobblestone, weather temperate. Stepping foot into New York City, glass skyscrapers and oppressive machinery, she is full of regret. The city is inundated with memories, all the ones she’d rather forget. Though, the one merit of returning is her feline persona; sinking into it, it’s like coming home. Staging a break in is muscle memory, and the elaborate, glass-spun penthouse is no sweat. Though, as a shadow casts over her in the glass, she ducks away mindlessly before she is swept off her feet. The red-blue suit makes her stomach clench with dread.

“What are you doing here?” His voice makes her ache with longing, but the heavy disappointment in his familiar timbre quells it in the same breath.

“What’s it look like, Spider?” Felicia smirks, red lips curving wicked, “I’m networking.”

He reaches for her, and though there are approximately seventeen ways she can escape or ward off the curl of his fingers against her wrist, she is helpless to stop him.

“What are you doing?” Her voice, weak.

“You’re the one who dumped me,” Spider reminds, and there’s no bitterness in that fact, only resignation.

Sometimes, it feels like she’s the only one clinging onto the past. She stares, lashes lowered, “I saved you the trouble, is what. You moved on with no trouble.”

“Only because you were dead-set on leaving. Thought you wanted me to forget about you.”

“Maybe,” she admits, because she remembers wanting to disappear that day, ask him to forget because if he could not forgive at least the ignorance and avoidance could provide her some absolution from the weight of her guilt, “but not now.”

He’s painstakingly silent.

“Not too late for you to drop the persona, Spider. We both know you’re too stubborn to admit it, but she’s not the one you want.” Presses close, cleavage spilling, watches with relief as those eyes narrow at the movements, cling to the exact places that she’d hoped.

His fingers are tightened around her wrist. Her pulse speeds. He whispers her name, then, “I can’t…”

She makes the executive decision, leans forward to shut him up. Then there’s no more talking at all because his hands are snaking to her ass to pull her close into the v of his legs, warm breath skating her lips as her open to mouth at his, a hand snaking into his hair so that the angle of their mouths are slick and just right. It’s like coming home.

His fingernails are digging into her flesh, but the pain is just the way she likes it. She shivers into his touch, a soft sigh of heat in the space between their swollen lips.

“Please...I need you,” she whispers. Their suits are skin-tight, hardly the most practical. Hers is pasted upon her like a second skin, but the spandex of his is stretchable, and she feels his shape against her crotch, fattening up.

Spiderman nods, a jerky thing, and she brings her legs up around his waist. If they were free of their layers it would be so easy for him to press his half-hard cock into her wetness, and Felicia isn’t able to stop herself from imagining it, his thick weight pressing her open and reaching in deep. She bites her lip.

Spider must be imagining the same thing, because his hips cant and they’re both panting, Felicia gyrating her hips against his, him gripping her flesh hard and bringing her down to meet him, an intimate dance.

Spider mouths against her neck and she squeals when he bites, before gasping, “come on, I’m only a few blocks away. Get us there and I’ll promise you heaven.”

Spiderman grins against the flutter of her pulse, before she clings on tighter than before and they’re swinging into the night. She gives him directions, shifting deliberately when she gestures until Spiderman twitches and falters under her. They’re both at their last straw when she unpicks the lock on her apartment window, and she pulls him through unceremoniously.

She’s grateful for the state of darkness they’re in; it gives her the courage to hike his mask up until she can see the contour of his lips parting, leans down to catch them with a moan as she grinds circular motions into his dick. She’s dripping wet, pulses of lust gathering moisture between her legs.

He sighs, fingers reaching up to pull the zipper on her suit down, the lace of her bra peeking through before he pushes the leather off her shoulders entirely, fumbling before hitting gold and undoing the metal clasp so that her breasts swing free and heavy. He tears the flimsy thing away, delicate despite his passions, tongue passing over the peak of a nipple, alternating between teasing bites and slow circles of the tip with his tongue that send electric pulses down her spine. She sinking into the pleasure, before his other hand comes up to cup her right breast, squeezing before hitting her nipple lightly, leaving her keening.

“Oh fuck…” she moans, arching into him, needy, “please.”

He grins in the dark, and though she isn’t able to see him clearly, his eyes are glowing, catching the dim light rising from the street lamps outside. She shivers.

He kisses downwards, the only sounds in the room her heavy breathing and the warm, open-mouthed kisses he’s sucking into her stomach, the tongue in her navel, before he’s right where she wants him. When he breathes, hardly detected through the thick leather, she arches all the same, bringing her heeled boots to his shoulder for leverage, to grind at his face.

He’s too impatient - she’s teased for too long, and he rips the pants lower, drawing red lines into her flesh where the leather catches and burns, sweat making the fabric cling stubbornly to her thighs. Spider only hikes to her mid-thighs before he’s diving in, using the bunched pants as leverage to hike her pussy to his face, tonguing through her wetness, jaw working as he eats her up.

She moans, before twisting to face his crotch, using her claws to cut clean through the fabric and drawing his cock out. She laves the tip with her tongue, savouring the salt sweat of his groin, before sinking down to pleasure him for good, closing her lips tight and sucking him into a heated vacuum, small suckles and flexes of her throat to draw helpless vocalizations from him.

Spider refuses to let up and doubles down on his efforts to bring her off the edge, tongue fucking her deep where she wants it and sucking patterns into her swollen clit.

Innately, Felicia knows that this is unspoken competition and grins, not as effective as she wanted around his cock, before drawing her claws down his leg, hard enough to draw deep welts in his skin that are already bleeding and scabbing sluggishly as she retracts.

Spider shivers, bucks and then pinches her nipples in retaliation, twisting so that she arches off the bed and howls, quaking from the stimulation and bucking shamelessly into the heat and friction of his skilled mouth.

She’s still shivering when Spider flips them over so that she’s astride him. He’s looking up at her, his eye-whites glinting in the dark. She wonders what he wants to say, but it’s been too long since they’ve been together, the distance makes her ache for him viciously. He strokes himself, and she realizes with a jolt of arousal that there’s a ring of lipstick around his cock, before her own hands join his, ghosting over the head of his cock and hearing his breath catch before guiding it to her. It’s her turn to draw it out, slapping his spit-slicked cock against her sensitive clit, dipping the head in and out of her heat in a horrible tease, eyebrows rising to regard him in challenge. He lets her do so, and she’s painfully out of her element because she’s shaking from the force of her want, before finally - finally! He’s had enough, long fingers wrapping the circumference of her waist to draw her down, to embed himself in her, a long, steady drag of friction to her core.

Her mouth flies open, a loud moan punched out of her with the stimulation. Her fingers scrabble for purchase, flitting at his chest, her own trembling legs as he drives into her, hips flexing with each thrust. She’s tight around him, clinging to all the right places and pulsing every time he fucks into her just right. His thrusts are greedy and hard, each thrust drawing wet, slick sounds from her pussy, dragging strings of her arousal out from her core.

She whines, eyes rolling as his cock rubs her just right, and she feels her cunt pulse wet with every fuck, her folds fluttering at the intense stimulation and dripping into his pubic hair as his balls slap at her ass, cock bruisingly deep with each thrust.

“Oh fuck… Spider, I-” she gasps, the coil in her stomach unfurling as she speaks, “I’m gonna…”

He hardly lets her finish her sentence, only fucks harder, chasing her completion as her legs give out entirely. Each thrust is hard enough to send her body upward, and the gravity only drags her back down to bury his cock, an endless loop of pleasure.

“I want to feel you come around my cock,” he moans, grinding into her, before his fingers find her clit, pinching it hard and she shudders, mouth parting in a loud, ‘oh fuck!’

She shivering, pussy mouthing at his base as the hot folds convulse, a cage against his cock, soaking his groin as she circles her hips, eyes rolling back as he rubs just right against her walls. She’s so close that her insides are cramping, aching as she toes the line of orgasm.

Spider flexes, limbs twitching as she chases her own pleasure, “oh fuck... I’m gonna come if you don’t-!”

She hisses at th honesty, grinds deeper as the sudden ache for him to fill her surges, “fuck, please. Fill me, Spider…! Fuck, fuck!”

He’s gentle with her while he can, taking advantage of her syrupy slow physicality whilst she’s recovering from the punch of that orgasm, but when she’s done riding through the aftershocks, hazy eyes snapping with clarity, she shies away from the familiarity. She breathes out - a release of feelings, simmering nostalgia - and then shrugs on her outfit once more. Her hair’s still a little messy and she’s damp in between her legs, but she likes having a little reminder that it was real.

She waves over her shoulder, taking care not to look behind her as she darts out the window. She wouldn’t be able to take the sight.

“See you around.”

The lie departs her tongue easy as she slips into the night.

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