#woe smut be upon ye

[korrasamibottles]

"Oh it's on, Sato. I don't know what I'm gonna do just yet, but I'll figure it out, and then you're gonna get it."

"You'll have to figure out how to reach it first, though, right? Whatever it is. Before you can give it to me?"

OR:

Korra finds out that when you have a big personality, it's easy to forget you're not always the biggest person in the room.

Some good old-fashioned height difference pwp featuring a healthy amount of sexually-charged competition between girlfriends, one very conveniently located couch, and some Raiko bullying (as a treat).

Edit: the incredible @persnickety-doodles made this BEAUTIFUL art for this fic that I'm still screaming choking falling on the floor about. Seriously check it out, it's amazing (thank you again😭💖)

[angelgendered]

I posted the Thing.

How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Weave

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)

Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s), Gale/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s)

Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Original Male Character(s), Original Characters

Additional Tags: The Tav in this fic is named and has specifics listed about their appearance!, Making Out, Heavy Petting, Mutual Masturbation, Magic as a Love Language, Blow Jobs, First Time, I dunno how to tag this I honestly just wrote this for myself, But if others also enjoy it then that's great!!, Explicit Consent, Enthusiastic Consent

Language: English / Words: 3,714 / Chapters:1/1

[uukipi]

You draw so Lucien, Azriel and Elain so cute and I hope you saw other characters too.💖

I love your art and anyone who saying you are weird from creating cute shit instead of something depraved and horny can shove it 🫶

sdfhjkfhjjksdj thank you sm!!!!!!!!!! tbh the world needs more cute things, im just tryin my best gfdjkjf

[astrology-bf]

A Hot Mess

(CW: Contains Major Dawntrail Spoilers, Explicit NSFW, A Beach Episode)

It should have been so simple.

The Second Promise of Tuliyollal had thought he had a handle on himself: a sense of both his strengths and weaknesses, and fair guess as to his limitations. He was no mighty warrior, nor particularly outgoing, but Koana knew that he was smart and studied - enough to make up for what he lacked. Had Sharlayan not proved the final winner in the contest between brains and brawn? Even mighty Garlemald, for all its strength, found the Scholar’s city too dangerous a prize to try and claim. All Koana needed do was follow that example, and Sharlayan ingenuity would even out the playing field between Zoraal Ja, Bakool Ja Ja, and Koana. Lamaty’i, for all her well-intentioned zeal, was no true contender. He only hoped she wouldn’t take it badly when she lost.

Except… she didn’t. 

Wuk Lamat, Third Promise of Tuliyollal, had won. Bakool Ja Ja had failed to acquire more than two keystones despite briefly having thieved another, and the Resilient Son disqualified himself right at the finish line by attacking an elector out of anger. Lamaty’i had struggled, but with the help of Krile Baldesion, the Leveilleur siblings, and the Warrior of Light, she’d found her way: learning of the people of Tural and their many cultures and traditions. And even when it might have cost her victory, she never hesitated to take time to render aid. She’d heard the people’s words, felt and learned the lessons in their stories, and thought how best to serve them before acting. She recognized her limitations, too, no longer trying to be a solitary unbroken pillar but instead a real leader : listening to expertise she didn’t have, and leaning on her friends to cover for her weaknesses as she lent her strength to cover theirs in turn. And that was why Koana forfeited. 

It had been the hardest shot he’d ever made in all of years of practice with a gun, but he’d destroyed his tablet as a final declaration of his belief that Lamaty’i was the only real choice. He’d been wrong about her, and wrong about himself. It was painful to admit defeat, but Koana loved his sister more than he disliked the feeling of inadequacy. He was still Lamaty’i’s brother, and doubtless he’d have opportunities to further introduce new innovations to Tural - not at the pace he might have liked, but one Tural could stomach. So Koana, forever Second Promise and no more than that, would be whatever Tuliyollal’s next Dawnservant would need. Even if that was apparently a courier.

Koana hadn’t seen much of Lamaty’i since she’d returned, but he could hardly blame her: though their father had long planned it, there were still final preparations to be made which took up time. The people of Tuliyollal had gotten wind that a successor had been chosen, but it seemed exactly who that was remained unknown. People didn’t seem to realize Zoraal Ja had disappeared, nor that Bakool Ja Ja had failed, or even that Koana forfeited. It was a little painful seeing those supporting him still looking at him hopefully, ignorant of how the Second Promise had completely failed them. But he made no effort to correct them - the announcement was not his to make, and Koana was in truth appreciative of just a few more days to steel himself to face the public. He wouldn’t be out now, but Lamaty’i had asked him if he’d bear a message to the Warrior of Light on her behalf - a task that he’d accepted, as he had reasons of his own to speak with Ifan.

The Warrior of Light had ended up surprising Koana in a lot of ways. He was indeed a clever and quite powerful spellcaster, as the Second Promise witnessed when he’d fought beside him against Valigarmanda and Gulool Ja Ja’s shade, but what seemed different to Koana was that Ifan spent a lot of time considering the ‘should’ of it, rather than the ‘could’: he could have cleared Lamaty’i’s path, but chose instead to let her stumble on occasion and be there to offer comfort and assistance if she genuinely found it insurmountable. The silly man was rather wise… not just wise, but kind. He hadn’t said a word about their talk in Kozama’uka to Lamaty’i or the others, and from that point had been nothing but friendly and supportive of Koana as a person, if not a candidate for Dawnservant. Perhaps that’s partly why Koana opted to delay and help deal with Valigarmanda - he’d be leaving Lamaty’i to fight it by herself if he proceeded, yes, but he also saw the note of disappointment in the Warrior of Light’s expression. Like he expected Koana to be better. And he, like Lamaty'i, seemed elated when the Second Promise had arrived to help. 

Forfeiting his claim had been the hardest shot he’d ever had to make, but it was worth the sight of the appreciation in his sister’s eyes, and the admiration in Urianger’s, Thancred’s… and Ifan’s. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it had made Koana smile to see the Warrior of Light impressed with him. 

He was a good man. Clever, learned, good-looking (Koana supposed), adventurous, compassionate, and fun to be around… All the things Koana wasn’t, save his own wits and study. No wonder Lamaty’i seemed so enchanted with him: he’d taught her what she needed while never asking her to sacrifice what mattered most - her love for life, and her love for her people. What had Koana done, save condescendingly beseech her to just let him take care of her? It felt like in a mere few months the Warrior of Light had been a better mentor to Lamaty’i than Koana had for her entire life. Not only was he a failed Promise, he’d failed as a brother.

Koana knew the feeling that he felt was jealousy. That silly foreign mage with his damn smile and his blue eyes and that laugh which made Koana’s ears twitch, with his many friends and partner who was the expert on all matters Allagan, who’d just breezed into Tural one day and did the things Koana couldn’t for his father and his sister. And now Lamaty’i wished for him to join her as a part of her administration: that was the message that he’d been asked to bear. The Dawnservant-elect had come to view the Warrior of Light as irreplaceable… and though he knew it to be otherwise, it felt to Koana that he himself had been replaced.

For all that, he couldn’t bring himself to cast resentment towards Ifan. Not after everything he’d done for Lamaty’i, and for Koana too. The Hhetsarro’s own inadequacies were just that: his own. However much a mess he felt at present, he owed the Warrior of Light civility. And so he inhaled, steeled himself, and raised his hand to knock upon the door of Ifan’s cabin.

“Just a moment!” called a voice. 

Koana wasn’t waiting long. Some sort of rune flared up above the handle before it faded, and then the door swung open to reveal the Warrior of Light in partial dress. He wore his pants, but was barefoot and had exchanged his tunic for a garment that Koana identified as some sort of silk jacket in a Doman style. The Second Promise blinked and pursed his lips as he realized Ifan was without a shirt, and quickly snapped his eyes up so they didn’t linger on the ash-brown fuzz that dusted his pectorals. 

Ifan blinked at him, then smiled. “Koana.” he greeted. 

Koana cleared his throat, then nodded at Ifan politely. “Surprised to see me? I suppose it’s only natural.” he stated, cursing at himself for being uncivil and not starting with a greeting.

The Hyur didn’t seem to mind, and gave a little laugh. “Somewhat. ‘Tis a pleasant surprise, however. Do you want to come in?” he offered as he stepped aside.

Koana paused briefly, then decided it was better that they speak in private lest Second Promise let his judgment lapse and say something uncivil towards Ifan in earshot of others. Not that such was what he came to say. So he stepped into the cabin and let Ifan close the door behind him, and spared a moment to inspect the way he lived.

Messily. There were books scattered about, and he had a tendency to drape his clothes over a chair rather than fold them. It also smelt of both mezcal and some kind of herbal smoke. A little strange, as Ifan seemed quite neat in public: but then again, Koana’s own workshop could easily be called a bomb site whenever he became a little too involved with some new project, and he was utterly fastidious in his appearance.

“What can I do for you?” asked Ifan. The man leaned back against the table with his arms crossed, mercifully obscuring any chance of his jacket slipping and revealing something; though Koana felt his lips purse slightly as his peripheral vision noted the inadvertent framing of that curve. He didn’t mind it, it was just rather distracting.

Nonetheless, he nodded graciously. “I haven’t properly thanked you.” he began.

Ifan blinked, then chuckled once. “You’ve thanked me a few times, Koana.” he pointed out.

Koana grimaced slightly, remembering that he had indeed thanked Ifan. His ears flicked in embarrassment, but he continued. “Yet I still feel the need to do so. That my sister was able to realize her potential is a testament to the quality of her traveling companions. Particularly you. For that, you have my heartfelt gratitude.” His face was quite composed, but the feeling in his voice was genuine… as was the difficulty. But Thancred and Urianger had counseled him to be more open with himself, and so he did his best.

The smile on Ifan’s face lost any coyness, becoming something warm and slightly thrilling to Koana’s eyes. “I only did what you would have done in my shoes.” he replied, canting his head towards the Second Promise with a pointed look.

The Hhetsarro’s cheeks began to darken as his ears splayed flat, but an appreciative smile soon overtook his face. He reveled in the feeling of the Hyur’s admiration for a moment… and not a moment longer. He settled his expression, and nodded sagely. “...My primary business in calling is to deliver a message from Lamaty’i.” he began again. “As you well know, after the ascension ceremony she will officially take up the mantle of Dawnservant. She has expressed a desire for you to accept a post within her administration… while making no mention of me.” Koana blinked in realization at his verbal slip. That wasn’t a remotely relevant detail to Ifan. His lips parted out of instinct, as he readied to apologize and once again withdraw… But once again, Koana remembered his friends’ words. And so he simply nodded, having said the partial truth of how he felt.

Ifan’s humor faded at Koana’s words, though the latter couldn’t quite identify whatever feeling that the Warrior of Light was showing on his face. Displeasure? Concern? He didn’t voice it, merely hummed and nodded for Koana to continue.

Koana was somewhat relieved that Ifan didn’t press him. “You needn’t decide immediately. My sister will broach the matter with you again after the ceremony. Whether or not you continue to assist Lamaty’i is up to you.” He paused again, lips twisting and his ears lowering to press themselves against his skull as he clenched his fists behind his back. It was momentary, however, and though it was a struggle he gave words to his thoughts. “...You have become someone irreplaceable to her. As her brother, I acknowledge that with no little jealousy. But believe me when I say I hope you will stay by her side.” Koana didn’t look at Ifan as he spoke to him, head lowered deferentially and arms still held behind his back as if addressing a superior. The Hhetsarro felt his tail hairs bristle slightly at the awkward tension, and what he felt was gracelessness on his own part. His lips twisted, and he closed his eyes and nodded. “That is all. If you will excuse me.” he finished, bidding Ifan a farewell.

“Koana.”

The Second Promise felt his ears twitch as his name was uttered. He raised his head to meet the Hyur’s gaze with apprehension on his face… but it eased somewhat at the Warrior of Light’s expression. Ifan had his silly smile again, though strangely pointed and endearing,

Ifan rose from where he leaned against the table. “Are you busy, at the moment?” he asked.

Koana blinked, then shook his head. “I have no prior commitments.” he stated.

The Hyur smiled. “How about a walk? We can get something to eat, as well.” he suggested as he gestured at the door.

Koana felt his ears begin to flatten as his face fell. A note of shame then flickered in his eyes, feeling very childish in contrast to Ifan kindly offering his company. “I would not wish to bother you further.” he answered. Then he swallowed as he lowered his gaze again.

Ifan stepped forward and reached up to squeeze Koana’s shoulder. “Hardly a bother, you’re surprisingly good company. Just give me a moment to get more decent.” he said, reassuringly.

The alternative, that being returning to his chambers and spending the night trying not to sulk, did appeal to Koana on some level. The urge to just be truculent and graceless, to just accept his stiffness and not try to make the effort. Sitting in his workshop or his study, while the world moved on ahead of him… and left him behind. 

Ifan had a hand extended, though. Not physically, but he could tell the man was looking back for him, to make sure that he kept pace. He likely knew how Koana felt, to some degree… Ifan shared that he was orphaned, too. He was looking out for him. So Koana nodded, and took the figurative hand. “I will await you outside.” he agreed.

It didn’t take the Hyur long to dress, as he simply traded out his jacket for a cotton tunic in a Hannish style that moved like woven air with its sheer weave, and donned a belt and pair of shoes before he joined the Second Promise on a walk. They’d no destination, but Ifan had suggested that they walk along the shorefront before returning through the Bevy in a loop. Koana had agreed, though he insisted he walk Ifan the entire way: he was still Second Promise, and Ifan was a guest within his city. 

The evening was quite pleasant: earlier humidity had now been eased by a fresh ocean breeze, and the sky was nearly cloudless. Menphina was not visible, however, her shining face concealed behind the veiled mystery of a new lover’s moon… but the Arrow seemed to gleam the brighter for her absence, as if the Wanderer proved intent on being there in her stead. The city was less busy than it would have been as Tuliyollal conserved its energy for crowning a new Dawnservant, so Ifan and Koana walked largely by themselves along the shore.

“Do you have a favorite book?” asked Ifan. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d decided where to go, Ifan giving Koana space to speak but finding that the latter was too hesitant.

Koana glanced at Ifan, then let out a mirthless chuckle. “The answer to that question seems to change every day. I cannot pick one.” he said, unable to conceal his literary fondness. 

Ifan grinned at him, and Koana felt his ears flick happily. “Ah, that’s how I know you’re a real book lover.” he hummed brightly. “What is your favorite today, then?” he asked.

The Second Promise straightened up a little, tail rising from where it had hung lankly the entire walk. “It is a treatise on the aetheric ziplines used on the Isle of Haam. I had thought I might explore the use of them around Tuliyollal.” he explained. The city’s elevation was a constant problem for both pedestrians and commerce, and though the local aethernet had helped immensely there were those who couldn’t use them. 

“Oh, those?” replied Ifan with a pleased nod of agreement. “They are pretty fun, and I can see them being useful here. Any interesting insights from this treatise?” asked the magician.

Koana nodded with a hum. “The principle hurdle seems to be maintaining a consistent density of aether.” he explained, eyes gleaming as the wheels turned in his head. “The Isle of Haam is rich in it, Tuliyollal less so - ceruleum may be an option, but I would need to study physical examples to see if such is possible. Even if not for civilian use, rapid transit through the city’s elevations would be of great facility to the Landsguard in responding to a crisis.” He gave Ifan a smile, and gestured up towards the higher reaches of Tuliyollal as if to indicate precisely where he’d recommend the line be built. 

Ifan gazed at Koana with a grin as he explained, his cheeks turning a faintly ruddy bronze at seeing the way the Second Promise’s expression turned absolutely radiant when he was speaking from the heart. “Well, if you ever need an escort for an expedition for such a study, I’d be happy to accompany you. Maybe you can show me a few places I missed in Sharlayan, too.” he offered.

The Hhetsarro gave a grin, then - faint, but nonetheless apparent, as was the way his ears and tail near quivered for a moment as he relished the idea. Then Koana blinked as he remembered that the choice about a zipline was no longer his. His expression settled. “It seems I shall have the time.” he stated, quietly.   

Ifan’s own smile faded into a quiet look of concern. By now, they’d passed the central docks and walked beneath the shade of Bayside Bevy’s larger warehouses. At length, Ifan spoke again. “She hasn’t forgotten you, by the way.” he said.

Koana blinked and glanced at Ifan sharply. “Has she said something to you?’ he asked, hesitantly.

The Hyur looked back at Koana and shook his head apologetically, but gave him a reassuring smile. “I just know her. She can barely go a few minutes without mentioning something Koana did or how Koana might perceive this situation. Just have a little faith in her.” He reached over to place a hand on Koana’s shoulderblade, and gave his back a gentle pat before withdrawing.

A sigh left Koana’s lips as his ears lowered. He knew it wasn’t just a lie to make him feel better… Lamaty’i did love him. Maybe it was just the fact she looked to Ifan, where once she looked to Koana. The Second Promise nodded. “It is difficult, I will admit. I’d put great hope in being Dawnservant.” he confessed, swallowing and looking faintly miserable.

“You’ll find your way, Koana. You’re a strong man.” soothed Ifan.

Koana swallowed once again, then looked at Ifan in gratitude. Nonetheless, his eyes were pleading. “I do not feel so.” he admitted.

Ifan halted, then, turning towards Koana and looking down to meet his gaze. Though they now stood at the harbor’s near-deserted far end, the Hhetsarro’s eyes had little difficulty in the gloom - he could see the soft and sad expression upon Ifan’s face. “...You and I have a lot in common, Koana. Being used to being the strong one. The older brother, the champion. Living afraid that if we let our guard down for a moment then everything will disappear. It took a lot of strength to do what you did, forfeiting like that.” he said, quietly. His tone was far from silly or unserious, carrying with it a strange note that Koana could only liken to treading on a set of stairs that once bore too much weight. “I admire that. Whatever else you are, you’re a good man. That’s what really matters.” He smiled, then - not coy, but true feeling.

For the first time, Koana found himself actually wondering what it was like in Ifan’s shoes. All those deeds he’d done within the books he’d read ,or tales he’d heard from portside rumors made no mention of how Ifan truly felt about his life. He noticed, then, how many scars the Hyur had beneath his gauzy tunic. The man had clearly suffered for his calling, and hearing such a person reassure him… Koana felt himself return the smile. “I thank you, Ifan.” he replied, his ears and tail both rising slightly as he voiced the words. Then he let out a breathy laugh. “The impression I had is that you disliked me.” he added, sheepishly.

Ifan chuckled with a nod. “I was wary, aye.” he admitted.

Koana’s smile eased, but his expression was less weighty than before. “Because I opposed Lamaty’i?” he asked, with genuine curiosity.

The magician hummed sagely, then let out an awkward breath. “You had me worried that Tural might turn into another Garlemald, for a few moments. Particularly in Kozama’uka.” he explained.

“You did seem… annoyed, if I had to put a word to it.” muttered the Hhetsarro, remembering the way that Ifan looked at him.

“If it helps, it was more a matter of…” Ifan began, before pausing as he chose his words. “Garlemald made a practice of eradicating local cultures if they deemed it threatening or inefficient. Othard’s magical traditions may take centuries to recover, if they do all. I could have healed the fields quite easily, even more so if I didn’t care about disrupting other parts of Kozama’uka’s aether - but Ihih’hana, silly as it seems, was the right choice. People need meaning to survive, not only food.” he explained. Then he chuckled, and grinned down at Koana happily. “But I don’t need to tell you. You learned the lesson, and as said… I admire that. You didn’t let me down in Urqopacha or in Yak Tel. I think of you as a friend, but I don’t mind if that’s unrequited.” he finished.

Koana stared at Ifan. A breath escaped his lips, and his ears and tail were perfectly still. Every conversation that he’d had with the magician, Koana had experienced this same feeling in his chest at points: a swell within his breast that made him want to cling to something lest he float away on it. A lightness that the Hyur could kindle with his words or laugh. Even the mere sight of him. His silly smile. Ifan wore a beard, but he kept it neatly trimmed and oiled so it framed his mouth quite nicely. A floral oil, it smelled like, that went well with the note of herbal spice that Koana had come to recognize as Ifan’s scent. Koana probably had a better chance to figure out what kind of oil it was if he got closer. Close enough to kiss him, even.

“Something on my face?” asked Ifan with a lofted brow and somewhat amused expression.

The Second Promise took a moment just to register that he’d been spoken to. Then he blinked and shook his head quite sharply, ears pressing flat in realization of just how messy he allowed his thoughts to get. “Forgive me. My thoughts ran away with me.” he apologized.

Ifan hummed. “Where to?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Koana’s lips began to twist within the flat frown he’d set them in, his gaze off to the side as he tried not to pray for the beach to open up beneath his feet and swallow him. “It would not be polite of me to say.” he stated, quietly.

Ifan nodded slowly, then smirked. “Fuck politeness.” he stated, crassly.

The Second Promise’s ears flicked sharply at the vulgar language, and he winced instinctively. He grimaced as he reached up to remove his glasses, then took his time in taking out a cloth to clean them - not that they weren’t spotless, but he needed an excuse to steel himself. He slid the spectacles back on, then swallowed. “...Your lips.” he forced out.

Ifan blinked as both his brows shot up. Then a pleased huff escaped him. “If you want to kiss me, you can just ask.” he snickered as he gave Koana a teasing grin.

Koana’s ears pressed flat against his skull as his cheeks darkened. “I have… never…” he muttered, trying not to fidget with his gloves.

The coyness in the Hyur’s expression faded into something more sedate. He blinked again and chuckled at himself. “...Oh. Sorry, I-” he began.

Koana shook his head, forestalling an apology for forwardness. “The opportunity has never… presented itself.” he explained, somewhat awkwardly.

Ifan gave a sympathetic and appreciative smile. “Well… I’m not here to force you, nor do I want to create any unfair expectations.  But if opportunity is what you want - I won’t say no.” he offered.

The flush within Koana’s cheeks turned even darker, and he almost pouted as he did his best to avoid eye contact. “Would not your partner have words regarding it?” he asked.

Ifan rolled his eyes and snickered. “That’s assuming he wouldn’t want to kiss you, too.” he countered, looking Koana up and down as if finding the idea of watching G’raha kiss him rather thrilling.

Koana blinked as he met Ifan’s gaze. “You want to kiss me?” he asked, unable to conceal his disbelief. 

The Hyur smiled at him admonishingly, as if Koana’s desirability should be completely obvious. “I’d like to, aye. Not just on the lips, either.” he added with a wink.

Koana felt his ears splay flat as his toes and tail curled at the suggestion. He swallowed and sucked on his tongue, his usual stiffness struggling with his present situation’s unfamiliarity. “...I would not wish to be unsatisfactory.” he answered, at length.

Ifan shook his head. “I’m satisfied just talking to you.” he answered, earnestly. “And if you want, we can just move on and forget this tangent ever happened. Whatever would make you happy.” Then he gave Koana a friendly smile, reassuring him that he expected nothing. 

That was a comfort. He’d let his judgment lapse in Ifan’s presence several times, and every time the man had handled it with grace and just been there for him. So Koana didn’t doubt that if he wrote this evening off as one of him not being clear-headed, it wouldn’t change a thing… But that was the problem, was it not? Dissatisfaction with the present. He’d never had the time for things like what the Hyur was suggesting. He had it now… and the opportunity, too. With someone that he trusted, and looked rather nice. So Koana glanced at Ifan, and he nodded slowly. “...Perhaps it is time to try something new.” he consented.

“That’s the spirit.” said Ifan with a reassuring smile. Then he stepped forward, and reached for Koana’s hands. The Hhetsarro’s ears flicked upright as his palms were placed on Ifan’s waist. “Why don’t you take the lead? Explore a bit.” he suggested, quietly.

Koana blinked and swallowed, then looked around. “Here?” he asked. This end of the shoreline was deserted, but there was always the odd chance that someone might walk by.

Ifan smirked. “If you want.” he chortled. Then he looked around himself, and nodded before guiding Koana over to a pillar in the port’s retaining wall where they could stand largely obscured in shadow. He leaned against the wall, and drew Koana forward to press against him before he hummed and let the Second Promise take the lead.

Koana had no notion where he’d even start. He had read… things… but reading it was very different from doing it. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? Ifan told him to explore, and didn’t seem afraid that Koana might do something wrong. His hands grasped Ifan’s waist, fingers slightly kneading and his lips pursed tightly as his anxiety mounted, eyes fixed on Ifan’s chest but not seeing a thing.

Only when the Hyur reached up and gently slid his glasses off did Koana take a breath. His violet eyes flicked up to Ifan’s wine-dark blue.

“Might be hard to kiss with these.” hummed Ifan gently, his free hand sliding up Koana’s back until his fingers were pressed at the nape of the Hhetsarro’s neck, under his collar. A brief tactile reminder of the neck massage in Kozama’uka.

Koana let out another breath, a little bashful but still grateful for the Hyur’s guidance. He took his glasses and slid them into the pocket of his coat, then wet his lips as he locked eyes with Ifan once again. He let out a breath, and did what came naturally: leaning forward and up, appreciating Ifan craning his head down so he didn’t have to stand upon his toes, their noses brushing as Koana finally identified the scent within his beard - Azeyma rose, which lured him further in until he felt his lips press against Ifan’s in a shy and gentle kiss.

Ifan slid his arms around Koana, but didn’t hold him tightly: a loose draping of his arms to scaffold the Hhetsarro as the latter drew back slightly before kissing Ifan a second time. Then he pressed forward, parting his lips hesitantly but quickly finding confidence once Ifan drew his tongue in with his own. Koana’s nervousness and hesitation ebbed away, ears kept perked and listening for any change in Ifan’s sounds so he could tell what the magician liked. Though Koana didn’t realize it at first, his hands had started wandering all over Ifan’s back and sides… though he didn’t stop when realization hit him, since he liked the bit of padding in the mage’s thighs and torso. He was very warm, as well, the inside of his mouth near scalding when Koana braved it with his tongue. Fun to kiss, and fun to grope. So Koana just indulged. 

A rolling purr began to hum from Koana’s chest as he and Ifan kissed, the former growing confident and pressing Ifan up against the wall so he could kiss him that more deeply, rubbing up against him as Hhetsarro often did to grind their scent into their partner. It wasn’t how the Second Promise had imagined his first kiss, but it was thrilling nonetheless. 

Too thrilling.

Ifan blinked as Koana sharply pulled away with a choked gasp. He shuddered and convulsed quite violently… and then relaxed into a gentle twitching. His head was lowered and his eyes were tightly shut, lips set into a small line.

The Hyur blinked again, then let out a breath. “...Did you just-” he began, faintly incredulous.

“Say nothing.” gritted out Koana, ears pressing flat against his skull as he tried not to think about the stickiness within his breeches. Of course the Second Promise couldn’t go a mere few minutes without… “I… I apologize, it was-” he shook his head, utterly ashamed… then gave a yelp as he was turned around and pinned against the wall. 

Ifan was grinning down at him with a look of burning lust within his eyes that made Koana gasp and shudder. “Hot. Very hot.” he churled. Unable to restrain himself, he reached down between Koana’s legs to grip his groin and give it a good squeeze. “And still up for more, it feels like.” he observed with a lewd shaking of his head. 

Koana’s face was burning dark, his pupils dilated and his ears and tail both quivering. “Ifan-” he gasped, then brought a gloved hand up to his mouth to try and stifle a loud groan as Ifan groped him. He didn’t protest, however, the Second Promise’s hips rolling to meet where Ifan’s hand was pressed against his groin. 

Ifan gave a hum at the growing wetness on his palm. “Feels like you made a mess, too. Don’t worry, my dear prince, I’ll get you cleaned up.” he stated, then moved to unclasp Koana’s belt so he could unbutton the Hhetsarro’s breeches.

It took a moment for the man to register what Ifan was doing. He blinked, then swallowed. “Wait-” he began, then paused as he caught sight of Ifan’s expression.

Ifan raised an eyebrow. “...Huh.” he said.

Koana went perfectly still. “What?” he asked, hesitantly.

The Warrior of Light smirked wryly as he gave a very impressed hum. “...Surprised you don’t keel over with that.” he observed. 

Koana felt the hairs on both his ears and tail bristle in embarrassment. “It is not that- gods below… ” His protest was cut off by his own hand on his mouth as Ifan knelt and swallowed him before he dragged his lips away and left him nearly spotless before making sure the mess within the pale green fuzz below his navel and between his thighs was fully cleaned - and then he took him in his mouth again, before he let the Second Promise take the reins.

He was hesitant at first, as he’d been when they had kissed - but not for quite as long, given just how good it felt. But soon enough Koana had his hands in Ifan’s hair, slowly grinding up against his face and building a much deeper pace save whenever Ifan had to take a moment just to breathe considering Koana’s size. He was allowed far fewer of them as Koana found his stride, the Hhetsarro far more focused on ensuring that the muttered slurs and curses in Turali didn’t get too loud - though his focus on that failed, too, as after a point Koana had turned Ifan around so that his head was up against the wall and had nowhere to go when Koana thrust. The Hhetsarro was sweating in his machinist’s coat, one forearm braced against the wall while his teeth were digging into the glove upon his other hand, hips working at a steady pace and ears flicking as they reveled in the filthy noises that were coming from between his legs. It was a blissful feeling: no migraine, no duty, no worry. Just the warmth around him, the sounds within his ears, and Ifan’s scent within his nose.

As he neared his peak, however, he realized where he was. The Second Promise of Tuliyollal, in public on the beach, his pants around his thighs and groin-deep in the throat of the Warrior of Light. Anyone could walk by, at any second. It was frightening… or was it thrilling. But he felt a surge of heat within his core as he began to pant in panic, then- “Ifan… I-... Wait-”

He took a step back, but it was too late. Koana braced himself against the wall with one palm as he bit down on his other fist, already coming as he sprang free of the Hyur’s mouth and spattered both his face and chest with stickiness. Ifan chased him, however, and Koana had to try his hardest not to cry out as he was taken to the base and near-devoured, still shuddering and shaking as his climax was prolonged.

Koana wasn’t given any chance to slip into regret. Ifan slid back slowly, still pleasuring but with less pressure to help Koana climb down at a steady pace. And when he had come down enough, the Warrior of Light released him - though his hands remained on Koana’s hips in steady reassurance.

He could hardly think. Everything felt good, everything was spinning. He was sweaty and a mess, and Ifan even more so; he couldn’t quite believe that all that messy white on Ifan’s face was his. Not that he complained… He found himself grin faintly at the sight of it. 

Ifan grinned back up at him, licking his lips and chuckling. “How are you feeling, my dear prince? Besides messy.” he asked, looking very pleased despite the redness in his eyes and the brazen flush all down his face and neck.

Koana thought about it for a moment, but as he made to answer he was interrupted by a rather loud protesting rumble from his stomach. The Second Promise closed his eyes and hung his head, defeated. “...My body will permit no propriety today, it would seem.” he lamented. Then he gave a breathy laugh.

The Warrior of Light began to laugh, and then he shook his head before he stood and wiped his face with his left hand. “Don’t need to worry about that around me. I could use a bite myself. Not that you aren’t delectable.” he added, licking a finger with a wink.

Koana pursed his lips as he pulled up his pants, but mostly just to hide his smile. “You are a silly man.” he stated. 

“Silly, huh?” asked Ifan, seeming quite amused.

The Second Promise nodded sharply. “Yes. Silly.” he repeated.

Ifan stuck his tongue out from between his teeth. “And that turns you on, doesn’t it?” he teased. Then he gestured with his hand, and in a shimmer all the mess on both himself and Koana was magicked into nothingness.

Koana gave a little frown, trying not to seem impressed by Ifan’s legerdemain. “I will neither confirm nor deny such.” he answered, though his tone was teasing. Then proved unable to conceal his smile.

The Warrior of Light smiled back, then gave a little grin. “Then I must perform some Feats to get a better understanding of you. Shall we Repast?” he asked, reminding Koana of the rather enjoyable challenge of preparing xibruq pibil.

The Second Promise had to chuckle. Whatever happened, he was a man with his own life, and Ifan seemed determined to remind him to enjoy it. His body was still shivering occasionally from just how much he had. 

Koana gave a nod and reached up for his glasses, before he placed them on his face once more. “I am in your hands, my friend. Lead the way.”

[mengyaos-defence-attorney]

Call me by my name like you mean it

Chapters 1/1

Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Nie Mingjue/Wen Ning | Wen Qionglin

Summary: There were no problems when Nie Mingjue felt in control. He enjoyed feeling like he was all-powerful; especially when it came to the people he cared about and had willingly chosen them, every time.

So he truly, wholly, does not understand why he gravitated towards Wen Ning.

Or, a bdsm relationship with no strings attached (strings are very much attached)

[spicyraeman]

woe vir/lae smut sketch be upon ye [full ver. here (explicit)]

[k-dokja]

Woe, Eli's smut be upon ye.

"I don't think I like that smile on your lips," you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow at Eli. It wouldn't take a genius to know what he has in mind, not when the heat in his eyes is evident.

The smile doesn't fade even in front of your defences, Eli only steps up to you, "I'm just happy to be with you..." He says, stopping mere inches away from invading your space completely. "It's not often that we have the whole house to ourselves, that's all."

"We don't exactly have the house to ourselves," you roll your eyes, taking a step back, "Max and Derrick are downstairs."

"Yeah, but..." Eli traces a knuckle over your cheekbone, his gentle smile curves on one side, "Max and Derrick won't care about what we do."

Unwilling to submit to him just yet, you ask. "And what are we doing, exactly?"

"This and that," his eyes turn soft, his hand cradles the side of your face, "I won't force anything but... it has been weeks and I missed you."

"Whose fault was that?" You sigh, glancing downwards. While it's true that you've forgiven Eli for leaving, the two of you remain awkward regarding your relationship's whereabouts.

You know he wants you, he always does. In a way, you feel the same about him, but that doesn't mean it would be easy to be close to him again. Yet, when he looks at you with those earnest eyes, you struggle with putting up resistance at all.

"I'm sorry," he brushes his thumb over your cheek, "I'll spend however long it takes to make up for what I've done, but if I understand if you don't—"

You silence him with a kiss, closing whatever distance is left between the two of you. He goes rigid with surprise at first, but soon, he meets your touches with his own. Eli deepens the kiss, hungry and desperate to feel more of you.

His free hand squeezes your waist, pulling you closer to him until you can no longer ignore the heat of his desire for you. "I missed you so much," he whispers against your lips, before diving in for another kiss, unable to get enough of you. "it hurts me to leave everyone behind, but it drives me crazy knowing that you might not forgive me for it."

You hum, "Stop talking," you murmur as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, "If you even think about anything but us, I'll take offence to it."

Eli chuckles, shucking his shirt to the side as soon as you're done unbuttoning it. Before you get the chance to reach his shirt, however, his hands trail down to your thighs and duck under your dress. He gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

Your heart would've been warmed by his affection had it not for how his hands distracted you, flushing your skin with arousal. His fingers hook on your panties and drag them down slowly. There is reverence in his touches as he runs his fingers over your smooth skin, marvelling at how soft you feel in his hand.

Without warning, he goes under your dress, tracing kisses on your inner thighs, inching higher and higher until he reaches your core. "I've missed this," he says, voice rough with need. It's the only sign you get before he runs his tongue over your clitoris. You breathe out a soft moan, spreading your legs further for his easy access.

For all of his softness and gentle smiles, Eli eats like a starved man. Hearing the pleasured sounds you make is more than enough to spur him on. He lavishes you with kisses and licks, working his way to bring you over the edge.

"E-Eli..." You shudder from the intense arousal he's bringing you. As the lustful haze clouds over your mind, you don't even get the chance to notice when his fingers begin to tease your sensitive flesh. By the time you are aware of what he's doing, Eli's already massaging your tight entrance.

You don't get so much as a chance to brace yourself before he enters you with two fingers. It's impossible to find something to focus on between his tongue flicking around your clitoris and his fingers inside your warmth, pumping and curling until he finds your g-spot.

A choked moan escapes your lips when he succeeds in his search. You can't see Eli's face like this, but you can feel his smile as he doubles down on his effort to please you. His fingers rub against you until your wetness trails down the back of his hand. Eli hums in contentment, sucking softly on your clitoris. "Come for me, sweetheart."

As if waiting for his command, your orgasm crashes over you as your walls clamp down on him. Eli groans in pleasure, continuing to lick and suck you through your orgasm, wanting deeply to prolong your ecstasy. He waits until the moment after your tremors subside to pull away from you.

His hair is mushed and his eyes glaze over with need when they meet you. Eli licks his lips before getting back on his feet again, staggering a little from staying kneeled. Once he's standing up straight again, Eli wastes no time to pull you in his arms again. He claims your lips without a moment of hesitation, letting you have the taste of you on his tongue.

His tongue caresses yours in a familiar embrace, only letting go once he remembers the necessity of oxygen. His hand reaches up to cup your breast, squeezing the soft weight in his palm. Eli's thumb brushes over your nipple over the layer of clothes, emitting a soft sigh from your lips.

"I don't think that was quite enough," he murmurs, pressing kisses on the side of your jaw until he reaches down the side of your neck, "let me have more."

Eli leaves fervent kisses on your skin, sucking and nibbling until the marks of his love bite mar your complexion. "I want all of you," his hot breath fans against your ears, sending delicious shivers down your spine. "Please."

And like before, you don't find it in you to deny him of anything.

[dirty-bosmer]

Woe, filth be upon ye!

Welp, I have been successfully peer-pressured into posting my Lucien/Silencer|Sheogorath smut that is really just angst with sex. Thank you for the encouragement, friends. It's everyone else's problem now.

Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Rating: Explicit Warnings: Toxic Relationship. Love as Horror. Shameless smut. Nasty, violent, loser sex, and the general unpleasantness that follows fucking a man who lives in a masturbation dungeon. It's nothing too wild, but if you are expecting any tenderness or soft romance this is NOT the fic. More tags on ao3. Relationships: Lucien (as Listener)/Silencer (who is now mantling Sheogorath 🤪) Summary: Ever since his rise to Listener, Lucien has struggled to keep Nimileth satisfied.

And stripped of her title, all that’s left of his Silencer is her. These days he can scarcely look for fear of what he’ll find— his lover, strange and cruel, growing stranger day by day, something lawless in her nature that even their tenets couldn’t bind. Sometimes he wonders if he ever knew her or only saw what he wanted to see, if too much touching could change a thing, deform it, destroy it even. Did he do this? Did he break her? The thought shouldn’t trouble him. It never did before, because most things when broken remain so, in pieces. Less of themselves. Fragments to be forgotten, ground down to dust, but whatever shards he pulled from the crypt that night are somehow more Nimielth than he remembered.   And tethered to Bravil, it’s just the two of them, no sanctuary but the space between their arms. He can’t think of a worse fate, to be caged in with this grinning thing that looks like a woman he once loved. Who were they before they lost each other? Lucien no longer remembers, isn’t sure that he wants to, if trying to get back what they had before it came to this is worth the fear of finding out. 

[astarions-darling]

Claws & Clauses Raphael x Haarlep x FemTav/Reader

NSFW mdni tags/warning: dubcon, face fucking, knotting, monstrous cocks (woe devil cock be upon ye), p in v sex, hands free choking summary: you've broken your deal and now are eternally bound to pay the price this is just a short ficlet to try and get back into writing again. it’s literally just 1k words of smut.

 “Remember, there are forty-nine clauses and subsections in your contract that specifically cover coming into my house uninvited, little mouse.”

Raphael tilts his head as he regards you, a leering smile contorting his handsome face. You stare up at him through glassy eyes, heart hammering in your chest. You really should have read that contract properly.

You don’t know what to say to him, what you can say - but that doesn’t matter as you couldn't utter a word if you tried. Not with his cock down your throat and his hands gripping your face tight. He thumbs away your tears in a mockery of tenderness, it makes you shiver.

The devil laughs, a low rumbling sound like the pleased purr of a cat, as you try to breathe through your nose. But it’s difficult, you aren’t alone in Raphael's room. Beneath you is Haarlep, their large hands gripping your hips as you sit reverse atop them on the bed, cock buried deep. The incubus thrusts up into you and you moan at the gift of friction, your walls clamping down on him and trying to seek more. Raphael’s cock twitches in your mouth and the devil growls, clearly enjoying the phantom feel of your cunt around him.

You do it again and his grip on your face tightens as he fucks your throat. No matter the human disguise his skin is hot unlike any mortal man and the strength of his fingers now digging into your hair sends a biting thrill of pain through you. More tears spill down your cheeks and you choke when he suddenly drops his human glamour, his fiendish appearance unfurling before you. You cry out as you feel his cock change; the soft flesh giving way to ridges that slide against your tongue as the girth of it fills your aching mouth. He pulls back just when you feel you can’t take anymore, though his hands stay near your face, one hand idly stroking the top of your head. His demonic eyes look upon your tear-stained face.

“This is a fairly light punishment, I must say,” he murmurs, mouth curling in amusement. “How lucky for you, pet.” A clawed thumb moves over your face, tracing your swollen bottom lip. “But it can always change if you do not behave.”

You know this. You’ve seen the other debtors. You had seen Hope. It’s still an effort to bite your tongue but you do. There is no point in resisting, or fighting. You've tried that in the past—tried and failed. Been bruised and broken into submission for going against your contract and stupidly trying to free yourself from his grip. That had only resulted in becoming more firmly choked by his claws and clauses.

“You should be worshipping me for my benevolence,” the devil coos with another fleeting caress across your face.

His soft words wrap around you, trying to bend you to his whims. How easy it is to want to submit to that voice, and of course you do, leaning forward to steady a hand on his thigh. The strange soft yet rough texture of his cambion form always delights your senses, though you wish it didn't. You muse how unfair it is that such a cruel creature can be so beautiful as your other hand takes his cock by the base so you can wrap your lips around the tip, making the devil sigh in pleasure. You can feel the infernal heat of him beneath your fingertips along with the ridges that lie there. Your tongue flicks at the underside, running along the bumps and grooves as you take him further into your mouth. The taste of him is heady on your tongue, addictive. You tell yourself you are pleasing him in such earnestness because then it will be over sooner. You tell yourself this even as your slick walls flutter around Haarlep. Raphael groans again as you try to take more of him into your mouth and the sound goes straight to your cunt. Instinctively you press down against Haarlep, their answering groan and thrust making you work faster with your mouth and hand on Raphael. It’s hard to focus while the devil whispers words of delightful filth as his tail slinks up your sweat-covered body and wraps around your throat. It's not too tight, but he squeezes it tight when Haarlep tilts their hips beneath you. You inhale sharply through your nose at the lack of air and the full feel of that ribbed cock sliding inside you. You dance on the edge of bliss as the tail loosens and you can breathe. You're pulled away from Raphael, his burning eyes lingering on your swollen lips. He lets a hand reach out and a claw is dragged across your skin, leaving a red path in its wake across one breast. Quickly he pinches the nipple, the spark of pain blending into pleasure as he laughs to himself. He does it again to the other as Haarlep again grinds up into you, their own tail coming to twist around a thigh.

The ache in your cunt is making you delirious. You need more and you move against the incubus, hips working clumsily to try and relieve the tensions deep within you. The devil still teases you, hands running over your flesh but never touching where you need. You are aware of the desperate pleading that falls from your lips but it is too late for pride. You’re being kept on the edge, your body feverish and taught as the incubus keeps the fires of arousal stoked high. Who knows how long you’ve been here, there is no sense of time in this place of languid carnality. You sigh in relief and frustration when Raphael removes his hands from your body. You’d been so close to the edge and you grind down against Haarlep, squirming above him desperately. “What a desperate little creature you are.” Raphael saunters away and sits in one of his plush armchairs across from the bed, legs splayed as he lazily fists himself. His gaze looks past you and at Haarlep. “Hold our little mouse still.” The incubus digs their nails into the soft flesh of your hips and you cry out in pain but it turns to a mewling sigh of pleasure as Haarlep fucks up into you fast. You can feel them swell within you and you sob, hands reaching between your legs to try and touch your clit but they’re yanked back quickly. “Naughty naughty,” laughs the incubus, the tails around your leg squeezing tighter. “I’m afraid you're caught for now.”

And you are, with hands bound behind your back and his cock buried within you, you realise they've knotted you. The overwhelming sensation of absolute fullness has you gasping and you keen when Haarlep pulls out slightly, the stretch a sharp but pleasurable sting.

Through half-lidded eyes you watch Raphael, his eyes are brighter than the Hells and while his hands rest on the arms of the chair, his grip is tight—claws biting into the gilded armrests. You roll your hips, eyes heavy but never leaving him—too lost in the burning heat of his stare. He whispers encouraging words of depravity as you roll your hips again, mesmerised by the sight of him. His red skin is flushed and slicked with a sheen of sweat. It reminds you of pomegranate seeds and how you long to taste his skin again, no matter the cost.

Because a cocoon of hedonistic revelry lives and breathes in this room and you are not strong enough to resist it. And you won't, you will stay there for what feels like an eternity, suspended upon the knife's edge of pleasure and pain as Raphael watches on in amusement.

[loboto-bear]

Woe! Human Paracelsus/A.B.A ‘Horror-of-having-a-human-body’ smut fic be upon ye!

I spent more time on this than I’d like to admit, but I think it was worth the effort :))

Also, if you’d like to see my interpretation of human Para thats referenced in this fic, please check out my design here

Happy reading, perverts (affectionate)

[chxrrylime]

I know I haven't posted in a while and suddenly I'm posting a new (to this blog) fandom but... woe, Far Cry 5 smut be upon ye.

Jacob Seed x M!Deputy (Isaac) x Joseph Seed ↪ 1031 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant top Jacob, cis male submissive switch Deputy, cis male dominant bottom Joseph, mention of John Seed x Deputy, mention of drugging, mention of suicide, dubious consent, pseudo-inc*st (only because Joseph's making it weird), Christian cults, unsafe sex, oral sex, rimming, claiming, anal fingering, and anal sex.

Joseph lay beneath him, hair loosened from its usual knot and spread out on the pillow like the facsimile of a halo. Isaac knelt above him, hands braced on either side of the Father’s head, nails digging into the bed sheets as Jacob’s thick weight pressed to his back, too wet mouth sucking and biting marks along his spine as the older Seed ground his denim clad cock against Isaac’s bare ass. 

Isaac thought, briefly, if someone had told him this would be the result of killing John Seed, he’d have eaten a bullet before he was given the chance to try, Hope County be damned. He barely remembers the words Joseph spoke to him as he came out of the bliss haze, knelt between the Father’s legs.

"You are so much like him, in more than just your sin,” Joseph speaks softly, petting through matted hair as Isaac rests his head against the Father's knee, "John was steeped in sin, and while I sought to save him, to bring him unto New Eden, as Jesus had vouched for the thief, perhaps this was God's plan all along. To have my brother return to me in a new vessel, to live through you after his death, with a soul, not free of sin, but with still the hope of cleansing it." 

Joseph's arm was reached down beneath Isaac, his thin bicep flexing with the movement of his arm. Isaac could feel his hard cock rubbing against Joseph's forearm, and though he couldn't see it, he knew he was smearing his precum across the tattooed visage of Joseph's dead wife. The thought made him whine pathetically just as Jacob, now kneeling further down the bed behind Isaac, licked a wet line across Isaac's hole, his large calloused hands squeezing the supple meat of his ass.

"Ssshh," Joseph cooed quietly, his free hand reaching up to cup Isaac's cheek, guiding him down into a chaste kiss, murmuring against his lips, "my sweet baby brother."

Isaac gasped, his cock pulsing, feeling like he could choke on nothing, feeling the vibrations of Jacob's rumbling laugh against his hole as the eldest Seed continued his oral assault, sloppy with spit but precise, almost practiced, in the movements. 

“Do you wish to penetrate me, Isaac?” Joseph murmured, lips soft against Isaac’s jawline. 

“Fuc–mngh,” Isaac groaned as Joseph bit down hard on the hinge of his jaw, just as Jacob pushed two thick fingers into his dripping hole, “anything—whatever you want, just—please.”

Isaac gasped at the lube wet hand that grasped his cock, moaning weakly at the realization Joseph had been fingering himself open this entire time, voice catching in his throat as Joseph led his cock downward, lifting his hips ever so slightly to tease the tip against his twitching heat. Isaac couldn’t help how his hips humped forward like a feral dog at the first sign of a wet hole to fuck, Jacob simultaneously brutalizing his prostate with the rough pads of his fingers. 

Joseph’s mouth fell open, baring his neck as he pressed his head back into the pillow. 

“Joseph—” Isaac moans, collapsing onto his elbows to mouth at the pale expanse of the man’s throat, his thrusts shallow and sharp, Joseph’s hand coming up to tangle in the younger’s hair.

“We’ve got you,” Jacob rumbles as his fingers slip free with a wet squelch, once again blanketing Isaac’s back with his weight, the rough shock of his voice making Isaac shudder, “gonna take good care of you.”

Jacob all but shoves his thick cock into Isaac, causing him to keen at the stretch, knocking him forward and pushing the length of his own prick deeper into Joseph. 

“That’s it,” Joseph breathes, voice steady even in this moment, his hand painfully tight in Isaac’s hair as their eyes meet, “you are perfect for us.”

Isaac whines, nodding as he presses sloppy, open mouthed kisses to Joseph’s lips, licking desperately into the other man’s mouth like a sick mutt as Jacob begins a steady pace, hips slapping loudly against Isaac’s ass.

Joseph turns his head away, teeth gritted to try and escape the mess of Isaac’s tongue. When Isaac tries to follow the movement, Joseph slaps him, gripping painfully tight at Isaac’s chin to glare at the younger. 

“Filthy,” he growls before locking eyes with his older brother over Isaac’s shoulder, “take him.”

Jacob grunts, wrapping one arm over Isaac’s torso to haul him back, his cock somehow reaching even deeper in this position. Jacob’s other hand grabs Isaac’s jaw, turning the younger’s head to meet him in a messy kiss, rumbling pleasantly when Isaac sucks on his tongue needily. 

“How does he feel?” Joseph asks, breathlessly, ever so gently rolling his hips down to meet the jostling thrusts of Jacob pumping into Isaac. 

“Fuck,” Jacob groans as Isaac clenches tight around him, giving a low chuckle when Joseph chides him for his language, “feels like heaven.”

“Blasphemous…” Joseph grumbles with narrowed eyes, earning a raspy laugh from Jacob that cuts off into a gravelly groan as Jacob suddenly goes from slow and deep to fast and shallow thrusts, pumping his hips like a jack rabbit. 

Isaac cries out, clawing at Jacob’s arms as his hips stutter forward and back, caught between pressing back onto the fat cock penetrating him, or pushing forward into the wet heat engulfing his own weeping prick. 

Isaac fumbles to wrap a hand around Joseph’s cock as his own orgasm draws close, but is stopped by a hand to his wrist, rosary beads digging into the jutting bone. 

“Take your own pleasure first,” Joseph murmurs.

Jacob rumbles against Isaac’s spine, nibbling at the lobe of his ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, and then he’s gonna take his turn. Mark you from the inside,” Jacob rasps, “make you ours.”

“We’ll fill you with our essence,” Joseph whispers, grip firm on the nape of Isaac’s neck as he hauls him back down, foreheads pressed together, “as you did to John… as you let him do to you.”

Memories wash over him, and Isaac feels sick as his orgasm hits him like a wave, eyes rolling back as he pants into Joseph’s mouth.

[glyphwrites]

Summary: Optimus has been running himself into the ground, trying to be a good Autobot for a faction that doesn't appreciate him. Luckily, Megatron has noticed this and is willing to lend a helping servo - whether Optimus likes it or not.

Tags: Bondage, Enemies to Lovers, Mildy Dubious Consent (but not really)

woe, suggestive megop be upon ye.

there'll be spice in the second chapter but it isn't smut focused, if that makes sense.

[rosella-writes]

I saw this question floating around and thought it fascinating so WOE inquiry be upon ye:

If you had to pick 5 fics you’ve written to make a “crash course” and sum up your writing personality, which would they be?

This is so sweet to ask, thank you 😭 I love a chance to ramble.

The first one has gotta be the intro to Virelan Lavellan, who hadn't been fully formed yet in my brain by this point. I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you (fuel the pyre of your enemies) is a rambling Hozier reference used as a pretty cover for primal kink fade sex. I just really like making beautiful smut and using it for character revelations.

Another smut as character study is this fic that forms little vignettes around bits of canon banter between Solas and Blackwall. Lay Down Your Armour was my case for the Blackwall x Solas ship as an example of two similar men finding refuge in each other. It was one of the works that really cemented my love for Solas rarepairs.

Another rarepair I love is Solas x Iron Bull, and I got to explore that with King's Gambit — it's another pairing built around character studies of two liars, replete with a drake fight, philosophy talk surrounding Bull becoming Tal Vashoth, and also gay sex so yay!

Continuing on with rarepairs, as well as vignettes built around canon banter, I used actual lines from the game to make a case for a romance between Cassandra and Solas. My life is like the dust (that hides the glow of a rose) is smut free (I know, crazy right?) and chock full of romance, including candlelit evenings reading together, a dance among flowers, and poetry.

Finally, I just really love crafting atmosphere and writing introspection, and Solas in the Temple of Dirthamen is prime material for that. I wrote this little one shot, in our eternity, only darkness reigns, to explore Solas's thoughts while exploring the temple of the young Evanuris he locked away — maybe one he'd even considered his friend, seeing as how his statue guards the temple's entrance.

Thank you again for the chance to share. 💚 I'm really proud of these and they were fun to write.

[streetkid-named-desire]

Woe smut WIP be upon ye for thirsty thursday. It's pretty much just basic action and I gotta add all the titillating description later cause I'm so fuckin bad at it.

-

Bea watched his eyes go back to flickering back and forth under his lids and pouted. She wanted his full attention. But he wouldn't give it to her. And so, she would make him.

Because V always gave her what she wanted.

Bea unzipped his suit the rest of the way down his pelvis. He was already halfway to hard and she had no trouble maneuvering upward. However, only the head of his cock made it past the open zipper. But she could work with that.

She kissed and tongued her way down his chest, stopping to mark him as only hers. When she got to his cock she looked up at him.

V's interface turned a bright pink and wavered in and out. Half asleep but not lucid dreaming. The biomonitor showed a flood of oxytocin to his system.

Bea spread the netrunner suit as far as it would go and lowered her head. She softly flicked her tongue against the sensitive skin that bridged the head to the shaft and V's hand twitched.

"You can do better than that," she said.

V's interface oozed into the emptiness turning everything but the maze and mouse into dripping lines. He knew what she was doing because he could feel it in his interface avatar. It was electric, an exhilarating connection.

Bea trailed her tongue flat against the underside of his cock, ending in a kiss at the tip of the head. She shoved her hands into his suit and tried dragging it down further to expose more of his rock hard cock. She needed to devour him and taste every molecule.

She got far enough that she could take a quarter into her mouth. Any further and she'd risk jacking him out too soon.

V whimpered when she enveloped him in her mouth. Her lips hit the zipper and the soft skin of his hard cock combined with the cool metal of the zipper sent shivers up her spine.

V let the rest of his interface fall away to focus his full attention on the rat in the maze and resisting Bea's temptation.

[prismatic-starstuff]

So I have A Few™️ ideas for things to write about Astarion; which would y'all like to see first?

[echthr0s]

hey any o' y'all want this bit of smut well *tosses* woe, it be upon ye regardless

She has never been good at locking doors -- something about having grown up in tents and yurts, perhaps -- but most Eorzeans knocked at closed doors, so it has rarely been an issue. Rarely.

"We're down to the last bottle of arak and Lyse seems determined to empty it before sunrise, so I brought you--" Haurchefant is already talking as he walks through the cabin door and only Dayir's little oh! of surprise stops him. Frozen in place, she watches him take in the scene before him, his expression progressing smoothly from stunned to speculative to amused (yet still speculative).

Oh, what a sight she must appear! Knelt on the bed, robe loosely tied and slipping off one shoulder, the end of a cylindrical pillow peeking out from between her thighs. One hand on the mattress, stabilising her, the other shoved down beneath the robe at the point where groin met pillow. Her hair unfettered and tumbling, a fair amount of it tangled about her horns, her startled-doe eyes peeking out from between snow-white locks. For a moment, there is no sound but the creaking of the ship and the ceaseless roar of the sea.

"Oh-ho," Haurchefant murmurs after a beat, pleased as punch. "Did you leave that door open on purpose?"

"Most Eorzeans knock first," Dayir retorts haughtily, but the tremulous quality of her voice ruins her opportunity to take the high ground. Haurchefant doesn't miss it, and his cheeky grin spreads.

"Fortunately for me, I was raised by wolves," he says breezily as he perches in a nearby chair, the cup of arak he'd brought her still dangling from his fingers. "Thinking of me, perhaps?"

Dayir sighs ruefully, settling back on her haunches. "Would that I was." She taps the pillow between her legs. "But I saw this and thought of…" She winces. "Hauchefant, you have to promise not to judge me."

He laughs, but sobers some at the pleading expression on her face. "My love, you could tell me you were thinking of… of Nidhogg and I would still not judge you. You know this."

"Oh, that doesn't count. We are both too enamoured of our dear dragoon for that to be the strangest of concepts," Dayir replies pointedly, and they both laugh then, wickedly.

"It's only… I know he is terrible. He struck down our allies, our friends, without a thought! He would have done the same to me, I'm sure. But… something else happened, that awful day in Rhalgr's Reach. When he saw me. When we saw each other…"

"Oh, surely not, Dayir! Him?" Haurchefant's brows furrow, his eyes darting as he processes. "Surely not!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Haurchefant, but you know me! You know me well! I can no more ignore this than I can… than I can cease breath!" The memory of locking eyes with the crown prince of Garlemald across a landscape dyed red with the blood of her allies and friends haunts her, but more than that, it stirs her. She had seen something, a glimmer of something, in that impassive gaze. And perhaps he had seen something in her, too, because he'd left. He'd flinched, imperceptibly, he'd sheathed his sword, and he'd departed as swiftly as he'd arrived. It'd seemed an utterly random choice to the others, but…

"Why did the pillow remind you of him?" Haurchefant's question snaps her back to the present, and then confuses her. He seemed to have recovered himself, and some of the old humour is glittering in his eyes again. "You think he's that big, then?"

This drops her jaw for a second, disarming her. "Gods, no-- No! But he is so formidable, and his… his thighs…"

"Ah, the great Primal-Queller, the hallowed Saviour of Ishgard, rutting against the leg of Garlemald's least finest like a drooling hound…"

"Haurchefant!"

"I jest, my love." Wickedness has suffused his expression entire, his gaze locked somewhere near the center of her. He licks his lips, leans forward. "And I have so rudely interrupted you. Please… continue."

The intensity of his gaze is warming her, quickening her. Haurchefant Greystone, avid worshipper of her body and its endless capacity for delight, who thinks nothing of diving deep into indulgence when it is offered to him, who is curious and ravenous and wholly without shame. They had been perfect for each other from the beginning, and here, now, she is again reminded of why.

"Give me that," she commands, gesturing to the cup almost-forgotten in his hand.

He approaches, leans close. She can scent the heat and hunger rising off him, the heady excitement of restraining himself. It makes her indescribably hot for him; her hips flex, her muscles loose and liquid as she undulates against the pillow. He tips her chin up and she obediently parts her lips. He pours the liquorice-flavoured spirit into her mouth, slowly, with practised ease -- giving her time to swallow, not spilling a drop. His breath is quick against her forehead and his free hand twitches towards his swelling groin, but he does not lose focus, not even when she begins to grind in earnest, her hand massaging her cocksheath in tight circles, the pressure of both her cockhead and cunt tight against the pillow making her dizzy with sensation.

The arak spent, he steps back, never taking his eyes off her, his cheeks bright with colour. She tries to watch him in return but her eyes keep rolling back, waves of liquid warmth radiating from her core so quickly now that she can barely remain upright. She leans forward, bracing against the mattress, her hips rolling, her hair tumbling. "Haurche… please. Please…"

She is so close she can hardly stand it, and here is Haurchefant, wicked Haurchefant, replying with such insouciant innocence, "Please, what?"

Dayir turns her face up to him, lips parted and slick with spit and spirits, and Haurchefant can keep up the ruse no longer. He lunges forward, shoves his hands into her hair and his tongue into her mouth, and groans in pleasure. Every time she's come for him, it's been like this, with his mouth tight against hers and his fingers pressing against that oh-so-sensitive spot under her horns, his deep-throated sounds spilling into her. Today is no different -- a muffled scream, her hand clawing desperately at him, catching in his shirt, tearing it, her body tensing like a lute string pulled too tight before collapsing in a progression of shudders that Haurchefant feels in every cell in his body.

"Good girl," he whispers raggedly against her cheek as she trembles in his embrace, almost sobbing in relief, "good girl."

"What if it does happen?" Dayir asks, later, as he is drawing her bath. "What if, against all odds, against everyone's wishes, Zenos yae Galvus… and I…"

Haurchefant rocks back on his heels next to the tub, trailing his fingers lazily in the water, and considers.

"I think there is something irreparably broken about that man. But I saw what Ysayle did for you. I see what you do for Estinien. My home is beginning to heal from a thousand years of agony and death because of you. Every day I am so grateful to wake up and see how you will once again completely upend everything I know about life.

"I imagine no one else has ever and will ever regard Zenos the way you do -- as someone you could love. And that is what makes you singular. That is what makes you powerful. That is what makes you the saviour of our star. So… we shall see what we shall see. For now… a bath, a drink, and us. Together. Against all odds."