#there's some smut planned

[eruden-writes]

Lapine & Griar - Part 2 (Human x Werewolf)

Summary: When Lapine found herself lost in the woods, she didn't expect to run into a ranger caught in a trap. She especially didn't anticipate walking in on him - ahem - trying to relieve some Heat Night pressure.

After an awkward first meeting, Griar escorts Lapine back to his cabin, intent to head back out and enjoy some -thrope debauchery.

Will he find someone to ease the carnal heat? Or is he SOL and stuck with a human in his home?

[Previous] [Masterlist]

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Nudged right against the face of a cliffside, Griar’s cabin was everything Lapine expected on the outside. It looked like something out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. A log cabin, surrounded by vegetation on one side - a garden, maybe - and a pile of winter’s leftover firewood on the other. The positioning seemed odd, though. Flush against a cliffside?

When Lapine entered, she understood why.

It was like a ‘bigger on the inside’ situation and far more modern than she expected. A full kitchen to the right. A desk, with a computer, and some bookshelves to the left. Strewn about, there were bits and pieces she’d expect of someone living in the woods; traps, animal bones, fishing equipment. Knowing Griar’s profession and species, however, Lapine wondered if the little hoard was just items he found while on patrol.

It was the other half of the cabin that shocked her. The far wall of the cabin didn’t even exist. It was like it had been sheared off by the cliffside. In its place, a huge cavern loomed. A television, a couch, a pile of pillows, more bookshelves, a bookcase of what looked like board games, more odds and ends, and two corridors that led off to other areas. 

“Those lead to other lycan rangers’ cabins.” Griar answered to her dumbstruck expression. He gave a shrug as he set his pack down by the computer. “Like wolves, we’re social. A lot of us even raise families while in the forest guard, too. Family legacy rangers are a thing.”

After Griar gave her a tour - briefly telling her to eat whatever she wanted from the kitchen, showing her where the bathroom was, and giving her the password for the tech-magic Wi-Fi - he disappeared down the cave corridor to his personal living space. Presumably to freshen up before getting his dick wet.

Lapine didn’t mind being left alone. In fact, she preferred it. It meant she could snoop around without feeling awkward about it. After pulling the charger from her bag and plugging in her phone, she poked about the kitchen. The cabinets housed mismatched dinnerware and the pantry held an assortment of dried goods. In the fridge, plant-based meat laden the shelves, interspersed with produce. She grabbed a yellow-orange nectarine, biting into it as she turned to the rest of the home.

Trodding into the cavern-esque side, her eye gleaned over the shelves with board games. The demographics ranged from simple little kid games to roleplay games with more complex objectives. There were adult games, with adult themes, but nothing worse than what you’d spot while walking the superstore toy aisles.

The books drew her next and there were quite a lot for a personal collection. Faintly, she wondered if most of them were left from previous inhabitants or donated to stock the cabins. Of all the bindings, however, one caught her eye.

Well, the author’s name caught her eye. 

Griar Peterson. 

Biting down on the nectarine and holding it in her mouth, Lapine wiped her hand off on her jeans before reaching for the book. Eyeing the cover, it seemed to be a series of research and memoir-like essays about flora, fauna, and even people in the area.

Flipping the book open, Lapine gleaned over the table of contents, before finding an essay that looked promising. Turning to the page, she held the book in one hand and read while her other hand went to the nectarine.

The passage she chose ended up being a personal account of searching for a child who disappeared while hiking with their family. Concerns grew the longer the search lasted, especially with no body to be found. Mountain lions are known for snatching smaller animals up, after all.

In the end, a mountain lion did, indeed, have the child. In a way. A nature-bound felithrope, she had lived her whole life in the wild and recently lost her kits. Driven with grief, she nabbed the kid, caring for it as her own.

In time, the rangers managed to return the child safely to their family and also get mental healthcare for the felithrope through an ursathrope therapist. 

“What do you have there?” The words made Lapine jump from her spot on the couch. She didn’t even realize she had sat down while reading. She whipped around, staring over the back of the couch at a much cleaner Griar. He had traded his dirty, bur-covered, slightly bedraggled clothes for a fresh plaid button-up and dark jeans. 

Griar’s eyes flicked down to the book, which Lapine held up like a barrier. He snorted, but a smirk curled at a corner of his lips. “Of all the books, you chose that one.”

“So?” Lapine frowned, trying to focus on his face. Those jeans hugged snug to his hips and thighs in a way that should’ve been illegal. Glancing down at the book, she flipped to the beginning of the passage she had just finished. She thought to mention what she had just finished, but ultimately decided against it. It would probably put a damper on his plans for the evening. 

Instead, she settled on a vaguely curious, “I’m surprised you have time to write. Your job seems pretty intensive.” 

“During the winter, the excitement dies down,” came his quick answer as he paced from window to window near the front, checking the locks and drawing the curtains closed. “Anyway, I’m going to go. Stay in this cavern, that way the other rangers know you’re my responsibility. Don’t wait up!”

And, just like that, Griar was slamming the door behind him, barefoot and heading off into festivities.

Lapine stared at the door after he was gone. Outside, faint howls and keening echoed through the night. A heat traced up her spine as she realized, with a jolt, that she was probably listening in on -thropes fucking. And Griar was going to be among them, soon. 

Hunching her shoulders, Lapine tried to drive the thought from her mind with more reading. 

--- 

Four entries later and Lapine’s eyes burned with exhaustion. She set the book down on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. Faint on the air, she thought she could hear a forest full of howling and caterwauling. It put ‘loud sex’ into perspective. Lapine pressed her lips together as she wondered just what the -thropes were getting up to out there.

Obviously, humping, but was it just one-to-one? Did they jump from partner to partner? Or was it a veritable orgy out there? Her cheeks warmed just considering the options. Maybe it depended on the individual’s preference. 

She caught her bottom lip under her teeth, faintly wondering what Griar’s preference was. For a brief moment, the image of him in the midst of a writhing mass of nude bodies bloomed in her thoughts. Lapine groaned, throwing herself backward onto the couch and pressing her palms to her face. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye if she imagined further. Not to mention, if he could scent her while hanging upside down in a tree, he could certainly catch a whiff of horny human.

The heat in her lower belly burned, though. It’d just get worse the longer she ignored it. 

Lapine sighed, one hand trailing down her front as the other curled into the crux of her neck and shoulder. Griar wouldn’t be back tonight. He said so himself.

Surely, it was safe to indulge herself.

Her hand slipped beneath her waistband and slid beneath her panties. As soon as her fingers teased through her slit, slick coated her fingertips. Her toes curled into the cushion of the couch, inhaling sharply. Lapine hadn’t realized she’d been this worked up.

Closing her eyes, she considered her usual fantasies. When she’d focus on one, however, golden-green eyes would intrude. Lapine swallowed, her fingernails digging a little into her neck as she imagined sharp canines skirting her vulnerable flesh. That thought led to wondering what scraggly stubble, just a bit shy of being called a beard, would feel like against her throat, her breasts, her thighs. Her body tingled, just imagining the sensations, coupling them with the thought of nipping teeth and a languid tongue.

Her chest rose and fell, heavily, as her hand at her neck trailed down her chest. Through her shirt and her bra, she groped at her breast. Would he be gentle or rough? Would he scrape his teeth against her nipple, before sucking hard? Or lap at it gently, coaxing gentle moans from her?

Lapine tried not to focus on the ‘he’ she was imagining.

What would it be like, she wondered as her fingers swirled slowly around her clit, to be pinned down by large, calloused hands? To have hips needily roll against her, an erection straining against the fabric separating them?

Her body throbbed at the thoughts, toes curling into the couch cushion. Involuntarily, her hips jerked up, seeking a dick that was only in her thoughts. Against her fingertips, her clit became a hard nub, burning with sensitivity.

Short, breathless huffs caught in her throat, her muscles tensing and her inner walls flexing, wanting penetra-

A key rattling in the door yanked Lapine from her fantasy. She gasped, quickly pulling her hand from her pants and pushing herself into a sitting position. Her eyes snapped to the door just as Griar pushed it open. 

In the split second she saw him, he didn’t look much different. There were no dirt marks or scuffs or - from what she saw - scratches. He looked as clean as he did when he left. The second thing she noticed was the scowl of frustration on his lips.

The look only lasted a second. Even from the couch, she could hear him inhale deeply through his nose. His gaze snapped up, immediately on her. Shame at being caught clenched at her stomach, but an anticipatory heat licked up her spine. 

Almost immediately, Griar threw himself backwards, out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Lapine stared, her heart thrumming and breath still ragged from adrenaline. What just happened?

Outside, back pressed against the wall near the door, Griar crouched. His chest heaved, still taunted by the aroma of pheromones. He clenched his eyes shut, running crooked fingers through his hair. The image of Lapine, flushed and breathing hard, teased him further. 

“Griar?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin with her soft voice eked through the door. He couldn’t help noticing the tinge of breathlessness still on her words.

“Don’t,” he growled, fingernails digging into his scalp. “What were you doing?” 

Lapine paused on the other side of the door. Heat flared across her cheeks again, but it wasn’t like she could lie. He already knew. “Masturbating.”

“I figured that, but wh-” Griar cut himself off. It was a heat night. Pheromones were heavy in the air and he had told her what he was going to go do. Humans were prone to carnal desires, just like -thropes, and he wasn’t exactly coy with his plans for the evening. He shook his head roughly. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lapine winced to herself. She hadn’t expected him to come back, hadn’t expected to see him until he’d been sufficiently satisfied. Judging from his reaction, however, she’d been wrong. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“Just… just get away from the door,” he sighed. The scent of her, so close and unclaimed for the evening, raked over his skin.  “I can take care of this myself.” 

Lapine pressed her lips together, debating with herself, before finally asking, “What if I help you?” 

Griar fell so quiet on the other side of the door, Lapine wondered if he left. She jumped when he finally replied, “You’re not obligated to help me, timid rabbit.” 

Lapine frowned and, this time, she cracked the door open. Griar’s head snapped to the opening door, eyes wide. A red flush tinted his cheeks and it seemed his stubble had grown just a little thicker. She only opened the door a crack, so he could see her eyes and her serious expression. “What if I want to help? One-hundred percent of my own volition.”

But that small crevice of space was enough to wash her scent over him again. His nose flared, unable to fight the temptation of inhaling her aroma. Hunger burned in his gut, worsened by the fact he’d been wandering out in the woods full of fucking -thropes. Muscles in his jaw flexed, his eyes nearly glowing in the night.

Various reasons swarmed his thoughts, despite the red haze of hormones. She was a human and, therefore, fragile. But he’d known other lycans bed humans without issue. It was just a matter of being careful and listening. How could he be sure she wasn’t offering out of a sense of duty, though? Maybe she felt guilty for leaving him hanging in the tree or she felt bound to help him, since he was doing his job and helping her. In an effort to get hold of himself, Griar’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, enough to be painful but not enough to bleed.

“Look, you seemed pretty excited for tonight and I know it kind’ve sucks to have to sit with a burning horniness.” Like an itch you could scratch, successfully. Oh yeah, she’d been there plenty of times. “You seem like a good person and you’re attractive, so - unless you don’t want me - I’m offering.”

[junkissed]

can't get you out of my head

member — fwb!vernon x f reader genre — smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count — 2.4k synopsis — so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings — vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes — june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[a2zillustration]

I've been waiting for an excuse to tell you why Croissant is called Croissant for SO LONG

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[komipacket]

Look what i found! *cries instantly*

An old thing i havent posted for some reason?

[mikacanica]

Please please please please please please please post the Newmann smut to your twitter... My soul will be yours

Lol! Im sorrrryyyy!

Im kind of fighting off the yearly round of burn out so Im trying to get to a schedule where I don't overwork myself into a bottomless pit of exhaustion. So at least for now, most of my super smut content will stay on Patreon (where I do open suggesting prompts if you're interested 👀 maybe perhaps!)

BUUUUUUT! After I finish my current wips, I will for sure share more Newnnan lovey-dovey, slightly spicy content on here, just not...that kind of explicit spice lol Pls accept this lil kiss kiss of the boyfriends as my apology! 🙌

[revelisms]

New WIP has me deep in the emotional whumpzone (per usual)—so even more Ghost headcanons: Angst Edition. Because why not ❤️‍🩹

CW: Family dysfunction, parentification, negative self-image, anger issues, relationship issues, grief. Also some heartwarming-ish moments? Sorta kinda? (;-;)b

Primo

Faced the harshest transition within the church as the first successor to the new Order, having to meet both the old clergy's expectations as well as the standards Nihil, as part of his bargaining, had been pressured to achieve.

Also saw first-hand much of the darker underbelly of the church (e.g., murders caused by the ghouls, corruption in the clergy, etc.), which he tried to shield the younger ones from witnessing. It's not all champagne and caviar in these halls—especially at the top.

Has had few consistent lovers in his life, but has loved them all deeply. Getting beneath his surface-level affections can be challenging, though. He has a kind, nurturing presence with most everyone, especially those he likes to have around—but as a partner, he can be protective to the point of patronizing. Very cautious, at times condescending, and ultimately fearful of ever losing someone again. Loves like a dragon guarding a horde of gold, and can get just as ugly for it.

Didn't want to have to step into the role of essentially father and mother for the boys, but he felt he had to. There's a hardness to him, for that, and a sense of young adulthood that he's lost; he feels ancient in a way that's difficult to explain, and always has. There's very little of him that feels youthful anymore.

His love for gardening runs deeper than most take it for. He's always been interested in healing magick and herbal remedies, and it's an older field of study he gravitated to in his earlier days. He's been on the cusp of too many tragedies to turn a blind eye to it, now, and so this is his way of doing something. He sees himself as too old, too frail, and frankly too booksmart to do so, otherwise; it's an underlying resentment of his, after watching too many ritual acts go wrong.

Having the Sight of clairsentience (aka: seeing into the minds of living things) has made him a bit of a chronic skeptic. He has lost his trust in most things; the few that he keeps to are the realms of possibility and self-determination: that what he sees in one moment does not have to be Truth, overall. But it hurts, being cursed to know what others truly think and would wish to do, even if they won't voice it. He tries to stay kind, despite that.

Secondo

He was always an angry child, and wrestles worse with his frustrations as an adult. His spite and his rage have fueled him; in many ways, Wrath has been the one constant of his life. But it has broken countless relationships in the process, and created a reputation that most siblings fear.

He's a very bitter, armored man—and, as a result, can be a bit of an ass—but he's aware of it. (Unlike someone else. Grumble grumble.)

Despite their theoretical closeness in age (I HC a bigger gap here), and quite a few shared emotional traits, he and Terzo couldn't be more polar opposite. Since Secondo was unwantedly looped into Primo's surrogate parental role once he got older, he took the brunt of this with Terzo, who was hell to manage. He has a lot of regrets over this, and puts silent blame on himself (in fairness, more than he should) for Terzo not getting the support or affection he should have when he was younger. Their relationship has always been strained from this.

Daddy issues out the wazoo—and it's translated into most relationships (work or otherwise) he's had with authority figures, since. He's a beast to deal with, when it comes to the clergy; most members of the cloth will toss him straight to Nihil before they have to even think of handling him (which is disastrous, in itself; he's inherited much of Sister's traits when it comes to bickering Nihil into place, and their All-Father can't stand it...but c'est la vie).

In short: Hell forbid you share a table with these two. Copia and Nihil's mess is tame, comparatively.

Genuinely one big tender-hearted teddy bear beneath it all, but few are given the privilege to see it. He's a very romantic man stuck in a complacent chain of disposability, and he's made his peace with that. He's certainly not an easy person to love; being in a relationship with him is a constant yo-yo of moods that can explode at the drop of a pen—but with the right balance, with someone who can ground him, he could rival the poets of old with his lavishness. Roses and wine and sweets for days. (And kisses. Satan, don't forget those.)

Having the Sight of retrospection (aka: seeing the the past) has been both the root of his fascinations with history and, ironically, his complete disgust of those who claim to study it (...which he is, but anyway). It's also led to some hard wounds due to Primo trying to safeguard him from the darker nature of the church as a child vs. the realities he was forced to bear witness to once gifted the Sight. It broke a lot of his security in the doctrines, and his trust in Primo. As a result, he views their eldest, above all, as a liar and has learned to take the guidance he shares with a grain of salt.

Terzo

Was a very rambunctious, escapist-driven child, and it has led into him being a flippant, snide, and at times callously individualistic adult. However, this battles with his desire to be valued by others—most of all, to help someone feel better in themselves. He's incredibly kind and soothing, when he wants to be.

The mix of priorities can be puzzling. As much as he can be selfish in one moment, he would roll out of bed at 2am to conduct a blessing for an insomnia-riddled sibling of sin, without question (which is...other WIP shh). This can make it hard to know where one stands with him, and whether any special treatment they've seemingly been given is all that special, after all.

Can be extremely petty for the spite of it, often through comments that cut to the bone, but almost as frequently in performances he knows will pull eyes. Nihil and Sister are often the joint instigators of this, and it tends to trickle down, unfairly, into his treatment of Copia—though he knows it shouldn't. He's not proud of this, and attempts to curb it when he can, but in many ways his temper is a mirror to Secondo's own; once something sets him off, he can become fiercely cold and hurtful. Getting on his bad side is a vile place to be.

Has, for lack of a better term, a tightly controlled persona: almost impeccably funny, sly, and suave, especially once he's ascended into the papacy (and been put on a tightwire of clerical demands). Few have seen the quiet, withdrawn, fidgety side of him. Few, he doubts, would want to.

At his most fundamental, he is heavily driven by a need to feel seen, accepted and loved—but he's repeatedly sabotaged it once it's been given. The siblings dubbed him a "loose kite" well before his Cardinal days: someone without a tether bound to land wherever (and with whomever) he wants. Most are aware that he's an egregious flirt, and little else, and have learned to never take his affections too seriously—and, to an extent, that's exactly what he wants. On the other hand, he's shot himself in the foot with this: a self-fulfilled prophecy of nothing ever panning out (and one he fears ever panning out at all, as much as he wants it).

Having the Sight of premonition (aka: seeing the future) has been dual-edged. He's seen the beauty of his own future, and of select others, countless paths over—and, just as wickedly, their demise. Countess potentials, countless lovers, countless beings, countless deaths. It has never been a source of peace, for him; he can only know with certainty what may occur once he has taken the first step onto a bounded path. Starting the route to his Papacy was his only confirmation that he was doomed to fail—but, for years, he knew little else.

The biggest splint in his Path, always, was Omega. Saints and demons, it was always Omega.

Copia

You could fill a jar with the things this man would nitpick about himself—and still, he would nitpick more—but he is nothing if not a source of reassurance for any who have known him: both in his bumbling Cardinal days, and in the slow-sewn confidence he's found in his senior roles. One of the sweetest, if sweetly awkward, souls one could meet—but give him any passing compliment, and he'll scrape it under his heel.

For all he craves true praise, hungers for it, he is so hesitant to believe it. He has never felt good enough in his own skin. Not for Primo's success, not for Secondo's intelligence, not for Terzo's confidence. Certainly not for the clergy's standards. And Sister—Mother—well. He's never quite known how to untangle the dreams she poured into him from his own.

Was effectively the black sheep of the family for much of his youth, despite receiving more affection from Sister—which, in retrospect, only added to the resentments. He had always been seen as an other, most harshly by Terzo, who felt that his ability to even have a relationship with his own mother was squashed by Copia devouring her attentions.

Losing them all made it easier, in some ways. It had to be done. (Hell, he misses them. He misses them so much.)

Loving him can be an overwhelming experience. As a partner, he goes overboard on the regular (often, humorously, with disastrous results). It's challenging sometimes for him to realize he doesn't need to perform, in this; that he can just be. He hadn't taken the best cues from Terzo, in that—but who else could he have looked up to, but Terzo: who was beautiful, and desired, and bright as a star?

There's a cruel irony in that. Terzo had never quite opened up to his little brother—but if he would have, Copia would have only known how much they had in common: how much of their black-sheeped image-loathed performance-pillared suffering they'd shared. (But the past is the past, now. Copia can't think on that, too long.)

Having a belatedly repaired relationship with Nihil and Sister has been complicated for him. There's an unspoken attempt at correction, for their (seemingly) final and "true" heir—attempting to be a better father, a better mother, to be a family. He'd never quite had that, in all those years before. A part of him loathes that only now he's being given it.

The Sight of clairvoyance (aka: seeing the Bridge between realms) is strange sort of blessing, in this. They're all with him, always. Through life and death, through all of it. And perhaps that's what he'd always been meant to be—a homestead for those lost souls to gather; to live free again, if for a moment. He finds comfort in that, much as he can.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Fic Preview (Feyd-rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader)

Summary: A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved". How many pieces of yourself can you give away, until there's nothing left of the life you've led before? Your new husband seems to be determined to answer that question, whether you're willing to participate or not.

a/n: heeeeeeey y'all... i bet you thought you've seen the last of me. here's a snippet from the first chapter from the last fail-marriage story im going to write. it will be slightly dark, slightly lore heavy, but i won't deprive y'all of smut either. oh, and also, the movies are cannon in my book lmao

-Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes.

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty.

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal.

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment, a wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than a collar for cattle. Perhaps.

[robinsomega]

fake dating au with keigo to get your family off your back, and while at whatever function you sit on his lap during it in front of others to make the relationship look more realistic...

except when you move to get up, he locks his arms around your waist, not allowing you to leave, and he whispers in your ear to "wait and give him a few more minutes" 🫠🫠🫠🫠

[allastoredeer]

I'm curious if you planning to write NSFW fic(s) yourself? Your gen fics are amazing and it would be interesting to read 18+ in your style 😏

Hehehehe oh contraire mon frère, I have already written several NSFW fics 😎

This is Going to End in Disaster, Babe Wake Up, It's Pumpkin Spice Season, Misfire, Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider (Spider-Man/Deadpool)

Lizard Brain (Spider-Man/Lizard)

Shaping Beskar, Gratitude (Mandalorian - Boba Fett/Din Djarin, Paz Vizla/Din Djarin)

And those are just the ones with the smut already written, I have a few that are going to have smut, I just haven't gotten to that part of the story yet. And these are the ones that just involve sex, not the darker themes that also fall under NSFW. (Except for "Shaping Beskar" that one DEFINITELY falls under the dark category)

But as for Hazbin Hotel, yes! I will be writing NSFW, for both "Just Kiss Already" and a few other wips I have in mind. I have quite a few of them planned out, actually. With various ships. It's just a matter of getting to them.

And I am very excited to get to them ( ▀ ͜͞ʖ▀)

[becca-e-barnes]

Don't tell anyone but I love the thought of pornstar Bucky's girl asking to do livestreams with him. The thought of him taking the chat's lead?? Or reading the filthy things they're saying?? 🤤

"They're making fun of you, sweetheart." Bucky teases between chaste kisses placed to the soft inside of your spread thighs.

'Is she wet already?' The most recent message in the chat makes you squirm in your seat. Not that you're getting very far. Bucky is quite well known for his skills with a rope but he's left you just enough wiggle room that you can still grind your cunt desperately against the chair beneath you. It's not much relief but it's something.

"Of course she's wet already. Aren't you, baby? It doesn't take our girl long to get herself all worked up when she knows she's being watched." Bucky smirks up at you, his fingers trailing over the slick lace of your panties, gathering just enough of your arousal on his fingertips to show the camera.

'Our girl' doesn't sit right with you but you know it's all for show. You're his girl. Only his. Those people watching on the stream, whoever they are, mean nothing to you. You know he'll remind you of that later too. Reminding you that you're 'his girl', holding your chin so he can look into your eyes while he slides every inch of his length home over and over.

You whimper at the flood of messages into the chat as your viewers respond to the crystal clear evidence of your arousal on your partner's fingers.

'Fuck, she's making a mess.' 'Always such a good girl.' 'What I'd give to be able to taste her.'

The comments run up the screen so quickly you don't have time to read them all.

'She's so desperate, what a good little slut.' 'You've hardly even touched her and I'm already hard.'

"You're right, I haven't really touched her much, have I?" Bucky asks while reaching over for the wand vibrator he'd picked out for this stream. He clicks it on and the toy buzzes to life.

He seems satisfied with the lowest setting for now. Not that you are. That setting is almost always just for warm-up and that's not what you need in that moment.

"Please." You whine, tugging against the restraints, only feeling satisfied when your partner presses the soft, silicone tip to your clit, over your panties.

Everything feels heightened despite the low setting. You've been so turned on for so long that anything at all is welcome.

'Such a pretty little thing.' 'She sounds so hot when she whines like that.'

You hadn't even noticed yourself whining, much less the way you tried to grind yourself pathetically on the toy, trying to feel more than the featherlight touch Bucky was offering you.

You felt Bucky flicking the toy up a speed, startled by the groan that left your own throat. It sounded desperate. It was filthy and unrestrained and totally shameless.

"You like that?" Bucky's voice was all that could tear you out of your own head. He rolled the head of the toy in vertical motions, laughing quietly to himself when the sensation made you gasp.

'She's so loud tonight.'

The commenter wasn't wrong. You knew you were louder than usual, a testament to just how much you found yourself enjoying this.

"Sit still, sweetheart." You hadn't really registered what was happening until after it was done, although you'd agreed it beforehand anyway. Bucky carefully tugged the side of your underwear away from your skin, cutting the lace and then mirrored his actions on the other side. With the pretty blue lace in tatters, your sex was fully on display.

Bucky pulled the fabric free from underneath you, balling it up in his hand before pressing it to your lips.

"Good girl. Take it." You hadn't expected this. Automatically, brattiness takes over, your defiant natures tells you not to do as you're told. You hold out for a second, up until the toy clicks up one more speed and when you gasp in surprise, the panties are pushed past your lips, resting heavily on your tongue and you get to enjoy the taste of your own arousal.

[personasintro]

stories coming in 2023

⏤ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: dilf!taehyung x reader

⏤ 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: single dad au, best friend's brother au, age gap

⏤ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: fuck boy!jk x reader

⏤ 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: single mom au, fuck boy au, age gap

more to come...

[yujeong]

Oooo.... VP smut prompt? I would love to see your take on Pete's thoughts/perspective during the first time they have sex post-canon/hospital!

Pixeeeeeel, thank you so much for sending me this prompt, you're so sweet and thoughtful 🥺 This is actually something that's been in my thoughts for as long as I've been a fan of them: VP's first time post-canon is a very, very intriguing subject matter to me, though I believe my view of it isn't that... well, interesting. As I've mentioned before in an Ask Game, I don't believe VP will be having much sex post-canon (or at least not much penetrative sex) due to everything that has happened to them. Now, the following is just one idea that came to me as I was playing with your prompt in my head. I'm insecure af about it, but I'm sharing it regardless because that was the point of asking for prompts in the first place hahaha. [CW: blowjob, handjob, cockwarming]

Pete's head was fuzzy, but not as much as he needed. There was warmth at the pit of his stomach, spreading through him in slow bursts as Vegas was opening him up with his fingers, but it dissipated immediately after every thrust. The noises Vegas was making while sucking Pete off had been tantalizing at first, almost effective, but they were beginning to aggravate him.  It wasn't enough. Fuck, it wasn't enough. Vegas himself had grown rigid below him. He had started this by going slowly, teasing Pete with a good time, but his movements now were frantic and desperate. He looked seconds away from breaking. Pete's breathing had grown shallow.  They had foolishly wanted to recreate it. It was the reason Vegas had used the rope, tying Pete's hands above his head before doing anything else. (He forgot the part where Pete offered the rope to him, and presented his wrists to be bound. He didn't really mind Vegas' transgression. He had made his choice already.) They should have known. This wasn't the same room. They weren't the same people. There was a lot more to mourn than just a tiny hedgehog. "Vegas." It was the third time Pete addressed him. Vegas groaned loudly around his dick, pressing his teeth onto the soft skin. Pete hissed. "Please don't bite it." He was certain it wouldn't hurt as much as the car battery, but he wasn't eager to find out. Vegas gasped as he took Pete's cock out of his mouth. He removed his fingers from Pete's hole and squeezed Pete's thighs aggressively with both hands. His nails dug into them; it would leave marks for sure. "Why aren't you hard?" he yelled, the pain clear in his voice. Pete could see the agony in his eyes, the unshed tears. There wasn't anything he could do about it. "Untie me." He was capable of doing it himself just fine, but that would make everything worse.  Vegas reacted as if he got slapped. "Pete, no, no I can... Pete, I can-" "Vegas," Pete said, his tone harsh. He mellowed it as he added, "it's ok, just untie me." Vegas did so with trembling fingers. Pete could see the thoughts circling around his head. He could almost hear them. Once free, he sprang into action, ignoring the numbness in his hands. He grabbed Vegas' half-hard cock and started stroking it, his movements clumsy and amateurish, his other hand grabbing Vegas' T-shirt in order to bring him closer for a kiss.  Vegas yelped and laughed as he returned it, his breath hot on Pete's lips. He tried to help Pete jerk him off, but Pete didn't let him. It wasn't difficult to get him there, anyway; he was fully hard in a matter of minutes. "You wanted me to fuck you, baby?" Vegas asked with a smug expression plastered on his face. He was staring at Pete and his attempts at putting Vegas' cock inside him, with no success. "You could have just asked." It sounded so fake, Pete barely managed to hide an eye roll. "Don't call me that," he murmured. He could feel his face heating up. "Just... help me out." Vegas smirked and entered Pete with ease, moaning in satisfaction. His eyes fluttered as he did, which gave Pete the advantage he needed to immobilize him, before he could move further. He had Vegas trapped on top of him with nowhere to go, using his limbs to keep him in place - his legs on Vegas' lower back, his arms on Vegas' torso - and his voice to put some sense into the idiot who couldn't see how overexerted he had gotten from all of this. "Vegas, stop struggling, you'll hurt yourself." He didn't listen. He kept fidgeting violently, growling as he bit Pete's shoulder in frustration, trying to break free. He kept at it until he was out of breath, until his muscles gave up on him. Vegas hid his face at the crook of Pete's neck, and cried. Pete relaxed his hold. He was caressing Vegas' oily hair, waiting for him to calm down. "I miss you," he told Pete when he stopped, his voice hoarse from the bile still stuck in his throat. He sounded so small and vulnerable. It made Pete want to cry, too. He couldn't. Instead, he abided by the words that were tattooed on his skin. "I miss you, too."

[xoxoemynn]

CLOCK BOYS 4 DRAFT DONE, LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO.🍆 🕰️

[autumnapricot]

guys. i, uhm, may have gone off the rails….i wrote a whopping 30k…yes 30…no it‘s not a typo, literally thirty…for the will o’ the wisps sequel and max‘s heat alone.

😃

[ashiemochi]

Idk if you were serious about the kiss thing, bc if you’re serious…omg! Where I sign to kiss you on my daily routine? 😭🩷

smooches 💋

credits! 🩷

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

utter depravity? 👀 and ahh platonic sugar baby au my beloved

Utter Depravity is the document where I keep all my smut ideas. :3 It's my depraved little PWP document.