criticalkink | Critical Role kink meme post #3: Unprompted Kinky Writing

Critical Role kink meme post #3: Unprompted Kinky Writing

For people to share their kinky writing that doesn't fit a particular meme prompt. (Links can still be shared to the Completed Fills post.)

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hey this was great, i'm... into it.

Liam is having a bad week. It’s his planned night with Sam though, so he has something to look forward to. They’d arranged a monthly date night after realizing how much spending regular time together helped Liam. There’s plenty of stability and routine in his life, but nothing grounded him more than Sam Riegal.

It’s nice having their own studio now; he knows what to expect when he walks in the door. Almost everyone is there, flitting about and getting ready, except for Sam, but that’s normal. The familiar Thursday bustle settles onto his shoulders, giving him a burst of energy and clearing his mind.

Until he rounds the corner and sees Ivan Van Norman sitting on the couch.

It’s not abnormal for guests to come watch the show in the studio, but he usually has some idea who it’ll be, and it’s typically a group. Besides the cast and crew, he doesn’t hear any unexpected voices.

“Ivan!” Liam shakes off the surprise, genuinely glad to see the man.

Ivan smiles wide, gets up and hugs Liam breathless.

“This is a nice surprise. How you’ve been?”

They head to the dressing room and chat with the rest of the cast while everyone gets ready. He missed Ivan, and many others since they left Geek and Sundry. It’s been weeks since he’s seen anyone other than the Crit Role crew, and it made him a little sad.

Ivan sits on the couch and watches the show. During the break Liam sits next to him, laughing and telling jokes and Ivan just nods and listens, not saying much. They’re about to go back on live and before Liam gets up, just as he gets up, Ivan touches his knee and looks at him meaningfully; Liam lowers his eyes and chuckles. He looks up again, strait into his eyes and smiles, with just the hint of a perceptible nod. And then they’re on camera again.

When the time comes and it’s the end and they’re packing everything in their cubbies, Liam and Sam share a moment. Liam hugs Sam and presses their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Liam says.

“Of course. I always know what you need.”

And Liam laughs.

“Even when you can’t give it to me?”

“Especially when I can’t give it to you.”

So instead of leaving with Sam that night, Liam goes home with Ivan. They talk on the drive, about the campaign and about how they should spend more time together, and speak briefly about going out and just getting a drink. They both know it’s hollow; that there are more important things that need to be done. And when Liam steps into the bedroom, there’s that jacket again, laying innocuously across the bed, limp and menacing.

“You know, there are other things that we could do. I have other tools.”

“Oh?” Liam arks a brow, turns around.

Ivan shrugs sheepishly. “I may have a closet. “

Liam follows him to the end of the room where there is indeed a closet, not as large as Taliesin’s, but enough to rival it; with all sorts of toys, gear, and equipment. “I even have a foldable cross in there,” Ivan says on the back of Liam’s neck, eliciting shivers he wasn’t quite used to yet.

“I think it’d like to explore the jacket some more.”

“Of course.” Ivan says knowingly, shutting the closet. “We should establish things properly this time.”

“Yes,” Liam says. “As much as I enjoyed last time and I trust you, we really should,” he laughs.

So they sit down on the bed, not touching, Liam with a knee curled under him.

Ivan starts. “Is there anything special you’d like me to do tonight?”

Liam thinks for a moment. His senses had indeed been heighted by the bondage of the jacket, and as much as he enjoyed looking at the man, he knew it was his voice that affected him most. “I would like to be blindfolded.”

Ivan nods. “Alright. That’s easy enough.”

“And,” Liam pauses. “I would like you to hurt me.” He says, squeezing his hands into fists nervously. “I get…numb sometimes. And the pain grounds me.”

Ivan nods again, but there’s a slight glint in his eyes, a predatory awareness. Liam becomes aware of his breath.

“What level of pain? Instruments? Blood? I have an array of sharp knives,” his voice is low and dangerous.

“Uh,” Liam swallows. “No blood. Tonight,” he lowers his gaze. “But, yes. Knives sound nice,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I like a lot of sharp pain. Bites, scratches.”

“Marks ok then?”

“Not in obvious places. But my partners are used to them, yes.”

Ivan smirks. “I bet.”

Liam blushes and fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

“So,” Ivan straightens up, his expression neutral, his eyes focused. “You want to be bound, blindfolded, and scratched. Anything you don’t want?”

Liam closes his eyes, takes a breath, and tries to hear Ivan’s breath, sense his presence. He can’t and it’s frightening. “Don’t go far away when I can’t see. Stay where I can feel you.”

Ivan nods.

“And…” he pauses, unsure. “It was more intense than I was prepared for. And we didn’t have time. We really should spend more time together. I liked it a lot and,” he looks up, vulnerable. “I care about you. I just wanted to say that.”

Ivan smiles warmly and reaches out to grasp Liam’s fidgeting hand. “I know. You’re special to me too. I didn’t expect this to happen, but I’m glad it’s with you. Come here,” and he takes Liam into his arms. “I’ll take care of you.” He pets Liam for a while, shushing him and enjoying his warmth.

“Anything you want or don’t want?” Liam asks eventually.

“Use your colors. And if you don’t respond nonverbally when appropriate then I will stop. Stay safe.” That’s a command now, the neutral air of negotiation fading away. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Ivan stares intently, waiting.

“Uhm, green.” Liam states.

“Good.”

And suddenly Ivan is kissing him. It’s easy, familiar already. Those strong hands tethering him, wrapping around him, and that delightful fuzziness is back. He’s relaxing, leaning into Ivan’s body, all of his thoughts and worries tapering off into whispers. And as he drifts, the more he melts, the tighter Ivan’s grip becomes. He is the tide, pulled to and fro by the force of the moon.

“There you are,” Ivan pulls back, and for a moment Liam forgets where he is. “My sweet treasure,” he cradles Liam’s cheeks, strokes the outline of his jaw. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Ivan stands, his posture morphing into a lithe gait, purposeful and confident. He disappears into his closet and comes out holding a small bag and a thin leather box. He sets the bag aside and presents the box. It’s filled with knives.

“Choose.”

Liam rarely gets to indulge in this particular kink, so it takes a moment to process the command. He picks up a small switchblade with a wooden handle, inspecting it before offering it to Ivan.

Ivan takes the knife and shuts the box

“Good choice. This is one of my favorites.” And in one smooth motion the blade flicks open and is digging into his skin, lifting his chin.

“Pain you say?” There’s something off about his expression. He studies Liam for a long while, guiding his head in different directions with the flat of the blade. “You aren’t afraid, clearly,” he states, sliding the tip into Liam’s mouth with no resistance. Liam sucks on it briefly before it’s removed. He decides something. “Very well,” he sets the knife aside and draws a simple black blindfold out of the bag.

“Look at me,” his voice hardens and Liam’s breath catches, his eyelids flutter. Ivan is so intense, so quickly, and Liam has no control, loses purchase on his consciousness.

His vision goes dark, the blindfold in place. And suddenly he knows again where he is. Can feel the bed under him, his feet planted on soft carpet. His arms are limp at his sides, useless, purposeless. His head is floating, hovering. As if pulled by a magnate he leans forward, seeking contact, and Ivan grants him this. Again he is devoured. Again he feels his blood flowing. He’s being pulled up to stand, turned, and Ivan noses into his neck, places a gentle kiss against his spine.

“I’m going to break you.”

“Yes,” he whimpers. That is what he wants.

He hears rustling, the clinking of buckles, and holds his breath.

“Arms out.”

It’s almost familiar now, the canvas. The slide of cloth obscuring his reality. He will last longer this time. He feels it in his bones. This is where he belongs.

He thought it would be strange, this bond he has with Ivan; that it was a one time thing, so long ago. The pieces had fit just perfectly and there was no way the stars could align again, and yet…

“That’s right,” Ivan croons. “Listen as each chink of armor falls always from your oh so fragile frame.” One buckle is pulled taught. Two. Three.

His vision is internal, his hearing heightened to the point of sharp acuity. His arms are wrapped around himself and tightened, useful now, pinned in place. A shudder wracks his body and then there is stillness.

“Let go,” Ivan whispers. “You have only one purpose now. My toy. So pliant and useful.” Ivan steps away and for a moment and Liam forgets how to breathe, chokes on solitude, on nothing. Breathless, floating. And then there’s a sharp sensation that draws his attention, setting his nerves on fire as a cold point is dragged quickly across the back of his neck.

He gasps, remembers how to breath, and everything slams into sharp focus. The pounding of his heart, the ground beneath his feet, the cocoon of tranquility holding him in place, the hot breath on his neck, and the sweet rumble of that baritone voice.

“You’re mine.”

His knees fail him. He’s breaking. But Ivan catches him; grabs the loop at the back of the jacket. Slows his fall, brings him almost to his knees, but leaves him there, hanging, dangling.

“Look at you Liam,” Ivan growls. “Hanging on by a single thread. You need this more!” He shakes Liam briefly, cutting into sharp focus how Ivan is supporting him, his entire body, with only his singular grasp on the back of the jacket.

“It’s been too long, treasure. Oh how you break so easily. Let me put you back together.”

He hauls Liam up, lays him on his back on the bed, and removes the rest of his clothing until he’s bare, floating in the void. The brush of cloth and the small points where Ivan remains touching him, a hand on his hip, a knee grazing his thigh, always one point of contact, Liam vaguely realizes, are his only anchors. Until the only contact that remains is a cold thin blade resting on the inside of his thigh. It slides slowly back and forth, hypnotizing.

“Give me a color.” Ivan purrs.

Liam searches for his voice, croaks out “Green,” and before he has the chance to identify the deep crackles of his vocal chords he hears a high pitched whine that most surely could not have come from him.

“So sensitive,” Ivan whispers. “You’re not afraid though, no, there’s no need to be.”

Belatedly Liam realizes his thighs are on fire. That tip of sensation raked across his thighs in quick strokes, punctuated by loud, high whines.

“Of course you’re not afraid. You need this.” And it’s true. He’d been dreaming of this for months now.

“You’ve made me wait too long.” Suddenly Ivan bites him. He bends, snaps upward, pain taking control, pulling the rains away from him, firmly in Ivan’s grasp now. He’s on fire, ablaze, caught in the torrent of Ivan’s will.

Soft hairs rub against the now aching bite mark.

“Would you like some more?”

“Green,” he pants.

Liam loses track of time and space. He is nothing but a warm bundle of excruciating nerves and rapturous sensations. Ivan follows each bite with a gentle kiss. Ivan’s chuckles resonate over him until it’s all Liam hears; rapid, shallow breaths escaping him, eclipsed by the firm stroking and kneading of his master’s hands.

Because truly, no one has handled him quite as expertly as Ivan.

“Good boy,” Ivan purrs. “You are my toy now. And I am your master.”

Had he said that aloud?

“Are you ready to serve your purpose?”

His head is spinning from the pain, but he nods as enthusiastically as he can. “Please.”

Ivan rotates Liam onto his side, effortlessly pushes him, and that simple act makes him throb.

“Yes,” Ivan says. “You are completely at my mercy, treasure. I can do whatever I want with you.”

It’s part of him now. Ivan is right, it has been too long. Too long of wandering through the world barely breathing, beaten and battered by life. But the jacket stabilizes him, tucks everything away, and Ivan leads him gently, suredly, to a safe place of contentment.

Ivan pushes his legs into place. He’s on his side, he thinks. One of his knees settles next to his chin easily.

“My my, you are flexible. We’ll have to play with that.” Ivan sounds very pleased. He strokes Liam’s legs appreciatively, kneading the marks that are quickly bruising. They sting pleasantly, and Liam knows they will bring him comfort later.

“Good boy. Relax.” The sting of slick fingers entering him is nice. Ivan takes his time, and doesn’t deliberately tease him. He floats for a while, enjoying the deep pressure. Ivan is surprisingly gentle and soothing. Liam gets lost in the praise, his entire body languid, fluid.

But beneath the peace lurks an unpredictable force. Liam knows this moment of peace will be brief, because Ivan is complex, and it takes much to please him. He desperately wants to please him.

“You are nothing,” he croons. “Just a toy. My toy. Mine. You’re mine Liam.”

For the first time that night Ivan grabs his cock, and it takes Liam by surprise so much so that he screams. He’s making a mess of the jacket, he must be, but it’s what his master wants. It’s ok, because it pleases his master.

“Such a good treasure. So good for me. I could watch you like this for hours. A nice little package all for me. Delicate and fragile.” Ivan rolls him onto his back again, shoves a pillow under him and then crawls on top of him. The weight is anesthetizing, but I van rocks his hips and an electric shock vibrates though him.

“Oh Liam. This is where you belong, truly. Such a pretty treasure.” Ivan breathes hot into his ear, sucks a mark onto his neck. “I almost want to keep you like this all night. Open and ready for me.”

“No!” Liam croaks. “Please! Please, use me. I—“ he stutters, trying to piece together fragments of thoughts. String desire into language, but he can’t manage more than desperate sounds.

Ivan laughs, cruel and menacing. Liam starts shaking, panic rising. He’s trapped. Completely. He can’t think, can’t breath. There must be a way to please him. He’s trying so hard. He lifts his hips, tries to get his feet under him to push up, but Ivan simply sits up, and stops his movements with one hand.

“It’s pointless to struggle you know. You won’t get away. Let me show you.” He rolls off Liam, keeping his hand on his hip, still pinning him. “Try.”

So Liam tries. He rolls to the side, and Ivan pushes him back flat. He flails his legs, tries to kick Ivan, but he meets nothing but air. His neck thrashes fruitlessly side to side, his heart is racing, sweat builds under the mask and Ivan just laughs, mocking him.

“You see? You’re mine Liam. You put me here. You wanted this. You’re absolutely helpless. And it feels good doesn’t it?” This is a check, and Liam almost misses it, caught in the current, trembling with the weight of his surrender.

“Liam?”

“Green. Green.” He chants, fighting the jacket openly now. Using all his strength. But Ivan knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly where to press to keep Liam from rolling off the bed, knows just how to highlight Liam’s helplessness.

And then he’s grabbed, lifted off the bed by his buckles, and damn Ivan is strong.

“Enough!” he shouts. “Be still.”

Liam deflates, limp and heaving.

“Good boy. Breath.” Ivan lays him back down and Liam hears rustling, the bed is moving with Ivan’s weight. And the energy shifts. He’s aware now of how empty he is. How lose and hollow he feels. How much he wants to be filled.

“Please,” he sobs.

When Ivan finally fills him, pushes his knees to his ears, the blindfold is removed.

“Look at me treasure.”

The lights are dimmed, but it still stings, and soon tears are pouring down his face. Ivan is moving, taking his pleasure. Using him. He finally has purpose. He’s openly crying, giddy almost, completely free.

Ivan stills, groaning his completion. And he’s breathtaking. Liam stares openly, spit and tears wetting his face. He’s a wet mess. But Ivan is happy. He is sated. Liam has served his purpose. He is relieved.

He’s crying again, and it’s different now. He’s tired, exhausted even. And the mood shifts again.

“Shh. It’s ok.” Ivan crawls up to Liam’s face, grabs a cloth and wipes him clean. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve got you.” And he falls apart again. Up and down. Reconstructed in a new image. “I’m going to take the jacket off now.”

But Liam’s not ready yet. He likes his cocoon. Likes the warmth. He shakes his head.

“You want to stay in it?” The friendly, calm, sweet Ivan is back. He knows it must be time but he doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

“Liam, if you really want to stay to stay in for a little more, you can,” his voice is gentle and even, smooth and placating. “But I would like to get you out of it. I’ll wrap you up in a blanket right after.”

Everything is still fuzzy. Thinking is hard. But Ivan seems to want it, so he gives in.

“Yeah. Ok.”

Unbuckling each strap feels like removing parts of his brain. His arms are pulled out and the air on his skin almost burns. He’s suddenly hyper sensitive and he starts shaking. Ivan is quick with a blanket though, fleece, soft and fuzzy. He tucks him back in and he calms slightly.

“There. That’s better. Take deep breaths for me.” He’s slowly gaining more focus, but he just wants to sleep. He can feel his toes, his knees. He’s almost naked, wearing only a t shirt. Odd. And Ivan looks so happy. His smile is contagious.

“Hey,” Ivan says.

Liam smiles, dazed. “Hi.”

Ivan straight giggles, and Liam is struck by how beautiful he is. How kind and caring. And he loves him. Of course he does.

“You’re naked.” Liam states, and Ivan loses it. Laughs so hard he tucks into Liam’s neck.

“Yes Liam. I’m naked. I did just fuck you, you know.”

Liam groans, suddenly aware he’s hard.

“I suppose you did.” He wiggles his hips. “Kiss me?” he pleads.

Ivan complies, and Liam slowly, tentatively, moves his arms enough to grasp onto Ivan’s chest, who responds with a low groan. It’s comforting, the feel of Ivan’s skin, and though he doesn’t want to move, feels mental resistance in using his muscles, the texture is so nice, soothing, and Ivan clearly is enjoying it.

Then Ivan nudges the blanket open and slides his knee between Liam’s legs and he gasps, a strangled cry spilling unbidden from his chest, and his hips move frantically, jerking and undulating. Ivan smiles softly.

“There you go. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it. You deserve it.” And he’s suddenly gripping Ivan, squeezing him desperately, panting roughly against his chest, riding the intense waves of his second orgasm.

Just the movement of his body and Ivan’s steady encouragement is enough.

He’s catching his breath slowly, reality seems distant, but a gentle kiss to his forehead brings him back.

“Thank you,” Liam says. “I…you’re…I’ve never had an experienced…” he struggles to find the right words.

“I know you Liam, that’s the difference. I care about you outside the bedroom, where it truly matters.” He strokes Liam’s hair, petting him again. “To be honest, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

Liam sighs. “Yeah. Things got so hectic and…asking for things I need is apparently not my strong suit.”

Ivan smiles. “Good thing you surround yourself with people who are good at knowing what you need.”

Liam chuckles. “So what did Sam say to you?”

“He said you’d been down on yourself for a while and his uplifting charm wasn’t what you needed tonight.” Ivan pauses. “How much did you tell him?”

Liam blushes. “I said that you wrapped me a strait jacket and threw me around until I felt better.”

Ivan laughs. “Such an understanding husband.”

Liam caresses Ivan cheek for the first time that night, feeling his muscles transition from dormant and restricted to smooth and free.

“Such an understanding master.”

Ivan smiles like the sun. “That how you see me now?”

“If that’s ok.”

Ivan kisses him again, but this time it’s soft and loving. Liam’s body relaxes the rest of the way. “I’m honored.”

“Good, cause I would very much like to be bound and thrown around on a regular basis.”

Twenty minutes. That’s all they have before they’re due back on stage. It’s hardly any time at all; it’s also, when caught in the middle of a story that’s picked at his brain for a year now, much too long.

The group pile backstage hurriedly, all gabbling at the top of their lungs about how freaking awesome this all is. The collective tone is both amazed and gleeful; they’re all just big theatre kids at heart, and selling out an audience of thousands is something that seemed astonishing enough on paper. Seeing it in person has left them all gibbering and walking on air, and reaching out from person to person to offer little touches which seem to say this is real, right? This isn’t a dream?

Still, giddy as they are, they’re also all well-trained in the art of catching quick breaks. Nothing more than a minute is spared on exclamations of disbelief and joy before they all rush off to their dressing rooms.

Matt slams his door open and dives straight for the tiny connected bathroom. He wouldn’t say that he usually feels the need to pee when under pressure, and streams have long since stopped leaving him crossing his legs in desperation, but something about an entire auditorium of people whooping in delight at his mere presence had set a leg jiggling nervously under the table. All the anxiety seemed to have rushed to his bladder.

There’s no small amount of relief as the pressure eases, and he washes his hands and returns to his dressing room proper with a more jubilant, less jittery bounce in his step.

Liam’s there.

He stops in his tracks, momentarily taken aback, before he smiles softly. Of course Liam is here.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, his legs spread and planted as if rooted there, with the door closed behind him and his eyes turned to the floor. After a second he drags them up to meet Matt’s gaze, and Matt is unsurprised to see the tears shining in them.

Unsurprised, but hardly unmoved.

His heart twists as Liam gazes beseechingly at him, a tear slipping down his cheek as his hands clench into fists by his sides. I wish he hadn’t worn black, Matt thinks fleetingly as he takes him in, cutting a dramatic, mournful figure in the plush reds and golds of the theatre’s dressing room. Anything but black.

He raises his arms and opens them encouragingly. After all this time, he knows when he’s needed. “It’s all –"

The sentiments are muffled as Liam flies into his space, moving with a force that suggests the much-needed release of an energy which has been winding up over the past hour, now snapping like frayed elastic. His lips meet Matt’s with urgency and desperation mingling, forcing Matt’s mouth open as strong hands rise to hold him in place by the hair. The grasp is tight, just teetering on the precipice of pain, and Matt gasps as the shock of it sparks through him. When he analyses the feeling, hours later, with Marisha holding him safe in her arms and his scalp still tingling, he’ll wonder if Liam was trying to stop him from pulling away, or trying to hurt him in return.

Matt knows all too well that he hurt him tonight. He doesn’t even think of asking Liam to stop. Nor does he regret any of it.

Liam mumbles something against his mouth, impossible to catch through the fevered movement of his lips, but Matt does not have to ask for clarification; it becomes a refrain, the words tumbling repeatedly from shaking lips as he pulls away a fraction. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m… I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s all right,” Matt tries again, his own words soft as he hopes to soothe Liam. His voice is broken, breaths coming in sharp, rapid lungfuls, and for the first time in a long while, Matt struggles to read him. Liam is in there, his usual softness clear in the tone, but he’s halfway between his normal accent, and that of Vax.

Matt frowns. He slides his hands beneath Liam’s shirt to stroke over his back, long, smooth movements consciously designed to calm panic. “Who do you want?” he whispers, his voice barely there as he tries to reach out to him. “Who do you need me to be right now?”

Liam’s eyes screw up further for a moment, before opening. A few more tears slide their way down his cheeks as shame settles on his features. “I don’t know,” he admits weakly, and his voice catches. “Gilmore, or, or you? No, it’s you,” he adds quickly, before Matt can react. His hands slide out of his hair to cup Matt’s cheeks, and he tilts Matt’s chin to meet him in a softer kiss; Matt is fluent enough in Liam to recognise an apology when it’s offered. “You,” he repeats, and the waver in his voice has vanished. Certainty shines through. “Always you. But… but Gilmore… he’s part of you. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Matt replies, and he bites down on the anxious urge to flow seamlessly into Shaun's smooth, confident tones. His own voice seems lacking to his ears, but Liam sags against him, and something in Matt’s stomach unclenches. “It’s all right,” he repeats, pulling him closer with his hands crossed over Liam’s back, a shield beneath his shirt.

Liam moves willingly to hold him tightly, but he shakes his head. His forehead rests against Matt’s as he blinks at him. “It’s not all right,” he murmurs. “God, I thought he knew, Matt. I thought Gilmore knew. Seeing that…”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Matt whispers in return. His fingers clench into Liam’s skin as he breathes out shakily. “I… Gilmore means so much to me, and what he had with you - with Vax, I couldn’t… just let him be an afterthought. A, a joke for the crowd. I had to… have that moment, for him. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Liam says fiercely, and suddenly all of his passion, all of his intensity is turned onto Matt. He forces another kiss, teeth clattering together before Matt moves with him, a groan startled from him with the rush. I missed this, he thinks as he revels in Liam’s hunger. He’s left panting as Liam releases him, the blood risen to his cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologise, Matthew. It was perfect – of course it was perfect, Gilmore always was, you are, and I’m glad you did it. I’m fuckin’ glad I know you.”

They stand together for another moment, breathing softly together, before Liam presses a kiss to his forehead. “This was probably not ideal right before we’re meant to be entertaining the masses,” he admits sheepishly. His fervour has gone; not drained away – never drained, not from Liam, who runs on clashes of emotion – but packed away methodically for later. His hands flit around Matt’s face, carefully straightening his hair.

“After?” Matt suggests softly, but Liam shakes his head and steps away.

“M’s gonna want you afterwards, you know that. I won’t make you take that away from her. But thank you for offering,” he murmurs. He tucks his hands into his pockets and grins, suddenly bright. “Anyway, tonight I have Stubby, and the Big Man, and all of my family. But tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow you can have anyone you need,” Matt promises, a warmth settling in his chest. Liam bounces on the balls of his feet, nods, and heads for the door.

“Tomorrow I can have an entire universe,” he agrees. “And we’ll work it all out from there.” He walks through the door, but hesitates before he’s through.

Matt knows him very, very well. “Goodbye, Vax’ildan,” he says, summoning Gilmore’s voice as easily as if he never left, and Liam nods.

“Goodbye, Shaun,” Vax says softly.

And he walks away.

(so APPARENTLY Sam and Travis were chasing each other back and forth with a lightsaber at ECCC, and at one point the lightsaber changed hands, but no one saw it happen, so here's a stupid-short interpretation of events. I wasn't there, I am going off of second-hand information and an overactive imagination.)

Cons make you weird. That was really the only explanation for two grown-ass men to be running up and down the autograph line, one chasing the other with a plastic lightsaber.

Sam was in possession of the weapon at the time, Travis ducking behind a curtain in an attempt to shake his pursuer, only to find himself cornered. Sam ducks in behind him, grinning widely.

"I have the high ground," he announces, and Travis looks around frantically for a moment before a very weird, very last-day-of-con idea occurs to him.

Checking that there isn't anyone immediately on the other side of the curtain, he steps forward, quickly enough to put a surprised look on Sam's face that he only sees for a second before he's taking Sam's face in his hands and kissing him.

There's a moment of surprised hesitation before Sam leans into the kiss, eyes drifting shut. Travis turns his head, deepening the kiss as his hand drops from jaw to shoulder. It slides down to squeeze his bicep, his forearm -

And then he steps back, grinning, with the lightsaber in his hand.

Sam stares for a moment, uncomprehending, as his body re-routes his blood back to his brain. "Motherfucker." He aims an accusatory finger at Travis. "That's cheating."

"It's a trap," Travis replies, grinning at the expression on Sam's face. He pokes him in the chest. "Your turn."

Sam narrows his eyes, the expression promising that they will revisit this betrayal later, but he turns and darts through the curtain all the same.

Con's not over yet, after all.

this is. unf. unf is an adjective now bc it's all my brain can come up with. five stars.

This is so emotional and so very, very good!!

Normally a Fjord/Jester shipper but had a dream last night that wouldn’t go away. May clean this up and Ao3 it eventually. Timing is wobbly, sometime around the pirate adventures.
~~~~~~~~~
“Caduceus, have you ever had sex?”

He choked on his tea. They were sitting quietly in a room, Jester laying on her stomach sketching and Caduceus quietly brewing some tea and contemplating the path that had brought him here. Caleb and Nott were off practicing new spells, while Beau had found a pirate lass to flirt with. As always, Yasha drifted off, pulled by whatever forces tugged her away from their small group. And Fjord was deep in conversation with Avantika at the tavern below.

“What?”

“Well, I was thinking about you and how you didn’t much leave your temple and many things are new to you, like beer and milk and then I was wondering about sex.”

“Ah, well then, no, I haven’t.”

“Aren’t you curious what it’s like?”

“A bit. It’s part of the cycle of life, just as birth and death, and certainly I’ve observed it in nature.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Well, I suppose I haven’t really had the chance to try. There hasn’t been anybody who particularly asked.”

“Would you like to have sex with me, Caduceus?”

He immediately regretted continuing to sip his tea.

“What?”

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

He stared silently at her.

“I was thinking that you haven’t had sex and I haven’t had sex and it’s maybe a thing that you want to do the first time with someone who is kind and who you care for and who you can trust and you are all of these things and I’m just very curious and I just don’t want to wait very long because who knows what will happen tomorrow or next week or...”

He cut her off. “But what about Fjord?”

She scoffed. “What about Fjord?”

“I thought that you had feelings for him.”

“Well he’s very handsome but he hardly notices me and he’s all caught up in Avantika and every day is more dangerous and who knows if anything will ever happen and I just don’t want to wait.”

“Well then.” He sighed. “I suppose I’m up for trying anything once.”

“Great!” She grinned and leaned up, beginning to toss her clothes on the floor.

“Wait! Isn’t there, you know, kissing first?”

“Do you want to kiss me, Deuces?” She grinned flirtatiously at him, breasts exposed.

“I just assumed that was the typical order of things.” She pulled him over and kissed him, tugging at his armor and the waist of his shirt. The kissing was pleasant enough and the sight of her exposed breasts made him suddenly aware of the tightness of his pants.

She giggled as his lips made their way down her neck, sucking at her pulse. She made quick work of his clothing and pulled away to slide off her skirt.

“So, umm, how?”

“Well, in all the books I’ve read they said that behind you is easiest for the first time. But foreplay is very important.” She furrowed her brow and then seemed to come to a decision. She sat on the bed, leaning back on a pillow and began to push his head downward. Unusual shyness flooded her features and she bit her lip, before whispering, “could you, you know, help me get warmed up?”

He smiled at the brief slip of her constant bravado, warmth at his friend welling up. “Of course.” He kissed down her chest, enjoying her gasps when he swirled a tongue around a nipple. He kneeled in front of her, kissing at her thighs, until he heard an exasperated sigh “just hurry up already.”

He laughed but moved his mouth to her cunt, licking broad strokes until she began to push him towards her clit, where he swirled and flicked his tongue, enjoying the sighs and moans he drew out of her. He felt the slick moisture sliding out of her and enjoyed the new taste of her arousal. He heard her moans get breathy and she paused before tugging him up.

“That was very good. But I think I don’t want to come yet. I’ve read that for some women, penetration is less comfortable after orgasm and I want to try everything!” He chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“This is quite enjoyable but I’m not sure we’ll get to everything tonight.”

“Yes, yes, yes, now come here and fuck me.” She rolled over onto hands and knees, tucking a pillow under her stomach. He marveled at her boldness and the sight of her soft curves, before coming up on the bed and kneeling beside her.

He leaned over her back, gently kissing along her neck and stroking her breasts.

“Are you sure?”

She felt the moisture between her thighs growing with every stroke.

“Yes”

He began to press into her, feeling the slick tightness clench around him, grounding himself with tight hands around her hips. She reached one hand back, rubbing at her clit. He paused as he felt her slight wince.

“It’s good, mostly, and I knew the first time might sting a bit. Keep going.”

“I’ll wait. I want it to feel good for you.”

He stilled, rubbing at her nipples and following her hand down to her clit. Eventually she moaned in pleasure and began to push back against him and her returned to his slow push in. Finally fully inside her, he groaned at being enveloped in wetness. She clenched and he kissed along her neck as she leaned into the pillows in front of them.

“Move.”

He traced a finger around her clit.

“I won’t last long once I do. It’s new for me too.”

She moaned at his teasing fingers.

“Move, damnit.”

He chuckled gently, but pulled himself up, one hand clenching at her hip to steady him. He pulled her own hand back to her clit and returned to playing with her breasts. At last, he moved his hips, building to a steady pace, groaning as the pleasure took him.

“I’m close. May I...”

“Yes, just stay inside me and don’t stop.”

He lost himself in the pleasure of her slick walls, occasionally feeling her fingertips stroking furiously just above her entrance. She moaned.

“I’m close. Stay inside...”

He groaned and stuttered against her as he spilled inside her slick folds. He kissed along the top of her back and neck and she knew bruises would follow the tight grip of his hands on her hips.

She heard him catch his breath. He gently slid them over to their sides, staying inside her. He rubbed her breasts and played with her nipples as her breathy moans grew in pitch. He felt her clench and flutter as she came, tightening around his sensitive cock. Her body went taut as a bow string and then slowly melted into his arms as he gently stroked along her sides. He slipped out of her and she rolled to face him.

“That was fun.” He kissed her cheek and pecked her on the lips as her hands began to play with her hair.

“More than fun. That was...more intense than I would have expected.” He relaxed as she stroked along his hair.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Thank you for being you. Maybe we can do it again sometime? Just as friends though, I know it’s hard not to fall in love with me.”

He smiled at her and cuddled her close. “As friends. Now sleep.”

He felt her settle against his chest and her breathing slow, before letting sleep capture him.

This was hot like burning, well done! I love these two when they get adventurous.

Wow! This was a really affecting and interesting character piece. Great writing.

This is really cute anon, nice work!

(a/n - side piece for a modern au i've been (slowly) working on that i really liked and felt like sharing. Jester runs a porn studio, Fjord & Molly are repeat actors, it's vaguely PolyNein, and i like ridiculous superhero rp way too much.)

“Caleb,” Molly says, draping an arm around his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be joining us.”

“Ja, well,” he says, “I was free, and it seemed like Jester needed help.”

“Oh, I am perfectly fine handling both of them by myself, Caleb,” Jester informs him. “If you don’t want to be here that is totally fine.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything.

“We adjusting the scene?” Fjord asks.

“Nope!” Jester tells him. “Well, technically we are, technically, but Caleb is just here as my minion to help with the bondage, but nothing else. If he wants to do anything more than we can talk about that later.”

“You’re alright with being filmed?” Molly asks, kind of surprised.

“We’re editing around his face,” Jester says. “Or, we could give you a mask. Would you like a mask?”

“What kind of mask?” he asks.

“Well, I am playing a supervillain and you are my minion, so probably just the domino mask but we could probably use basically anything and it would still work.”

He considers it for a few moments. “I think I’d rather just not show my head.”

“Good to know!” Jester says. “I am going to go get in to costume and none of you get to see me until my reveal. Fjord and Molly are going to get into character and get some material for the opening bits. Sound good?”

“Yes ma’am,” Molly says, and Jester blows a kiss before vanishing into the next room.

Caleb pulls out from Molly and sits back, behind one of the cameras. Fjord fiddles with them, setting them all to record, Caleb assumes, and then he and Molly start their scene. He has to assume that they’ve played these roles before, and watching them both fall in to them, he kind of wants to find the finished tapes from those times.

It is suitably ridiculous, but then, they’re making porn. Molly is a hero named Peacock, and Fjord is the Swordmaster, and they make sure to call each other by those full names, quite dramatically, and he’s surprised they don’t break in to laughter even once.

Molly is, unsurprisingly, a natural at improv, but Fjord falls into it just as easily. They play at exploring Jester’s lair, and they banter back and forth, flirting and what not. He’s seen Fjord and Molly flirt before (well, he’s seen Molly flirt with Fjord before) and it’s interesting, how similar it is, how different.

After a particularly biting dig, Fjord slams Molly against a column in mock anger. Molly grins and grinds up a little into Fjord. The character he’s playing is just as bratty as Molly tends to be, it seems.

Then, from across the room, a voice calls out, that he almost doesn’t recognize. “I’m so glad to see you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Jester stands on top of a platform, looking down upon the scene with a dark, easy grin across her face. She is wearing elegant, strappy black lingerie, thigh high boots that look like they’ve been stolen from Molly’s collection, and a long black velvet cape that drapes behind her. The whole ensemble has been covered in glitter that makes her look like a starry sky.

“Nightmare!” Fjord calls out, pulling off of Molly and gripping his prop sword tightly in his hand.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” she continues, and her voice is darker, but it’s gaining the hint of her bubbliness to it. “Go ahead. Kiss him.”

Fjord pauses, strains against some invisible force, his head turning to Molly like he’s almost about to follow her orders, but then he seems to overcome it with a renewed determination.

“Your spells won’t work on us this time, witch,” Molly calls out. “We’re immune to your magic now!”

“Oh, really?” Jester asks. “That’s good. It gets kind of boring, everyone following your orders all the time. Now we can have some real fun.”

Molly and Fjord mime blasting out attacks from the distance, and it looks incredibly ridiculous. Jester dodges around gracefully, jumping down from the platform, cape billowing elegantly behind her. Her smile is predatory.

She moves her hand, and Molly slams himself down into the floor, and struggles hopelessly to try and right himself. Jester steps forward, placing a heeled foot on his chest and digging in, turning to Fjord who runs at her, sword drawn.

Caleb takes this as his cue to enter and darts forward to restrain Fjord. A quick twist - showy, but with no real force behind it - and the sword clatters to the ground, one arm pinned against his back. He wraps an arm around Fjord’s neck, keeping a grip on the hand to his back, and holds him there. Fjord pats the arm around his neck gently with his free hand, and then starts straining against the hold.

“I am very impressed,” Jester says, “you lasted almost twice as long in the fight this time. You guys are really getting better at this.” She grins, and looks down at Molly, who is still straining beneath her. “I wonder if you’ve gotten better at this next bit too.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Molly growls, still pressed down against the floor.

“I mean, I did last time, sooo,” Jester trails off. She looks around the room, thoughtfully, not letting up from where Molly writhed beneath her. “I really would like to see you finish what you started. Minion! Fetch some rope, we’re going to hang them up in the center of the room.”

Caleb let Fjord go, a gentle shove to guide him into falling down on the floor, which Fjord did easily, and picked up the prop sword left abandoned before fetching a few of the coils of rope set to the side.

As he turned back, he watched Fjord struggle to his feet and attempt to rush at Jester. Caleb calmly cut his charge off, and took the opportunity to grab him by the hair. He smiled as Fjord leaned in to the grip for a moment before remembering he was supposed to be resisting.

He pushed Fjord on to the ground, and began to tie his arms behind his back. Fjord struggled against him, thrashing, but it was more show than substance. When he was fully tied, he flexed his fingers, testing the ropes. It seemed to be good, at least for now.

Jester finally stepped off of Molly, and raised Fjord’s head off the ground with her boot. Caleb took his cue and moved over to Molly, kneeling down beside him.

“Enjoying yourself, love?” Molly whispered.

“You are fun to watch,” Caleb whispers back, before pulling Molly upright, a sharp grip on his arms, holding him close. Molly grinds back against him, for a moment, but stops at a light squeeze.

Fjord knocks in to Jester’s legs, having pulled himself up on to his knees. She doesn’t budge, merely bending down and pulling him upwards, a hand wrapped around his throat.

“So pretty,” she says, kissing his forehead. “Will you be good for me?”

He does his best to pull out of her grasp, snarling, and almost falls backwards, but she holds him tight. With her free hand, she pulls down a chain, tugging it tight and fastening it to the ropes against his arms. It has almost no give, not even a foot from the center before he’s up on his toes. She pulls back, and lets him test the bindings.

Caleb gets a sense of where this is going, seeing the chain right next to Fjord, and he presses Molly against a column to tie his arms firmly. Jester sees him, grins, and gives a beckoning gesture - to which he pushes Molly in her direction.

Off balance, Molly stumbles, and almost falls, but Jester steps forward to catch him, pulling him in to her chest. Hands pet his hair, comforting.

“What about you, birdie?” Jester asks, looping her hands into his horns to pull his head up. “Will you be good for me?”

“I’ve never behaved for anyone in my life,” Molly tells her, grinning. “I don’t plan on starting now.”

He actually manages to knock Jester down on to the floor, but he finds himself pulled down with her, and is ill-prepared when she rolls both of them over, leaving Molly with his arms pressed into the ground and Jester perched on top of him, hands still curled into his hair.

“And here I was, planning to be so nice to you,” Jester complains. Molly laughs bitterly at that. “Now, it seems, I am just going to have to hurt you.”

She stands up, and pulls Molly up by the horns, grabbing at the chain right next to where Fjord is. A simple connection, a turn, and the two are facing each other. The way it hangs, they should be right pressed up against each other, but Fjord pulls back as far as he can, giving Molly space.

“Minion!” she calls out, “bring out - the paddles!”

He hands her a flat, wooden paddle from the gear on set, and watches as Jester waits, twirling it back in her hands, letting the anticipation build. She locks eyes with Fjord, from behind Molly, and grins, waiting to see Molly catch the look on Fjord’s face, having finally found his balance. He turns around, to face Jester, but before he can, she hits him.

Molly stumbles forward at the blow, pulling against the chain, and just barely missing crashing into Fjord’s chest. Another strike, and he arches away, keening. Caleb watches him, and can’t help but mouth a count under his breath. Three. Four. Five.

Jester moves around swiftly, behind Fjord, and hits him five times, pushing him forward to stumble in to Molly. They stay like that, for a few seconds, before Molly finds the strength to pull away.

It takes a bit, for them to accept that this is where she wants them, clinging to each other on the edge of begging. Fjord is bent over, and Molly’s head is pressed into the crook of his neck, muffling the sounds already escaping from him.

“So pretty,” Jester mutters, hand tracing down the back of Fjord’s spine. “So very pretty, and so very mine.” She hums. “Are you ready to behave, yet?”

Molly pulls off of Fjord with surprising speed. They both use the chains to swing back, knocking in to Jester in unison. Or, they try to -Jester stumbles back, but doesn’t fall prone.

“Yeah, we’re not submitting that easily,” Fjord says, and Jester growls at him.

“If that’s how you want to be,” she says, righting herself, “then fine.”

“Do your worst,” Molly hisses.

Jester grins. “I could do so much, to you,” she murmurs, and her voice is so deliciously dark, but it still holds that bare hint of Jester, and it makes it all the more terrifying. “I could whip you bloody, leave you broken, could flay the skin off your flesh and cut you apart and stitch you back together because you are mine, and everything about you belongs to me.”

He can’t help but tremble a bit, hearing her say that, even though it’s not directed his way. Jester as a supervillain works better than it has any right to.

“And it would work,” she says. “You would break, and you’d accept my rule. But it would take so long, and you’d be so defiant, and I don’t like being bored. So we are going to take a shortcut, okay?”

“We’re immune to your mind control,” Fjord reminds her, wary.

“Not that kind of shortcut, silly,” Jester chides. “You hero types are not very responsive to pain, so we are going to try pleasure instead. Well, kind of. I still have to punish you for your insolence, of course.” She looks them over. “But first, a better way to keep you in line. Minion! Bring out the clamps!”

It takes him a moment to find them, amongst the miscellaneous gear, but he does. She takes the time to pull out a pair of safety scissors.

Jester twists Molly back to facing Fjord, and begins calmly cutting his uniform off of him. The thing is painted spandex, basically, save for the accessories, and it cuts easily, revealing the lavender skin beneath. She presses up close, to his back, and runs her hands against his chest, as he struggles to do anything to resist.

“What do you think, Swordmaster?” she asks. “Does he look just as good, even without the charm?”

Fjord blushes and looks away, and she removes the rest of what qualifies as his pants. Molly’s already half hard, at this.

Jester takes the clamps from out of Caleb’s hand. She nuzzles in to Molly’s shoulder, kissing his exposed skin, gently, and then lets the clamp down onto one of his nipples, holding Molly as he shakes in response, and waits for him to return almost to calm before attaching the other end.

She gives the chain connecting the two clamps a gentle tug, and lets her hands pull apart the spandex still around his legs, until nothing remains of the costume. Her hand lingers, stroking the base of his tail.

“Minion! Prepare the devices!” Jester calls out, and gestures over to a set up. He looks over to find a pair of plugs which seem to function as vibrators. Taking the hint, he starts to lube them up.

As he works, she makes her way over to Fjord, and removes his partial armor, before cutting through his spandex costume as well. Fjord pulls away from her touch, and she stops, leaving his shirt in tatters but nothing else yet exposed.

“You should know better,” she chides, and takes the second pair of clamps and lets it latch down upon his right nipple without warning. Smoothly, then, she pulls Molly closer with a sharp tug of the chain, and loops Fjord’s chain through, closely interlocking the two of them. The give lets them stand apart with only a slight pull, but it allows only a fingers breadth between their faces; any further would certainly be noticeable.

When she attaches the second end, Fjord pulls back, and Molly’s knees buckle, causing him to be pulled forward as well, for a moment held up only by the chain on his arms and the chain on his chest. He cries beautifully, and as his feet find purchase on the ground again Fjord gently eases them back to their previous position.

“Now,” Jester says, “you don’t have to stay still for me, but....” she trails off, and Molly shudders, lightly, against the scraps and shreds that remain of his costume.

Fjord is still enough, when she removes the rest of his own, and she steps back to let them adjust.

The comfortable distance is not close enough for them to touch skin, but it means the slightest shift and they’ll certainly touch. They avoid eye contact, Fjord focusing on Molly’s horns, Molly staring forward at Fjords chest.

That and Fjords dick, which isn’t as hard as Molly’s but which is quickly getting there.

Jester looks over Caleb’s work, and has him take both plugs and follow her, moving back towards Molly. She choreographs her movements carefully, so that they know both of them are approaching but so that neither of them can quite see what he’s holding.

Fingers dipped into the lube, Jester opens Molly up.

“What are you-“ Fjord starts to say, but he’s cut off as Molly presses up against him, instinctively. He almost pulls away but after a moment, doesn’t, instead letting Molly cling to him as best he can, although the contact leads to a slight increase in the blush on his face. Jester closes the gap he creates, the three of them sandwiched tight together.

She doesn’t stretch Molly too much, before slipping the plug in. It isn’t a long, slow work, but it doesn’t particularly need to be. She steps back, after it is in, and Molly shifts, adjusting to the new weight.

Quite suddenly, he pulls back off of Fjord. “Sorry,” he says, looking to the side. His cock is fully hard now, Fjord almost but not quite matching yet. There is a small glisten of precome smeared against both their stomachs.

Jester circles, runs her hands down Fjords sides, building the anticipation. When her fingers do dive in, Fjord stands strong, not falling in to Molly. It leaves a perfect sight of his cock growing harder beneath her touch, and Caleb can tell he’s not the only one looking. Fjord is gazing up to the ceiling, and so he doesn’t catch the almost hungry look that crosses Molly’s face.

He takes the plug without a thought and needs no time adjusting to it, which is good, because Jester only gives him a second before she picks up the remote and flicks both of them on.

They both jolt, suddenly, and the vibration shudders through their bodies. She turns it down, after the initial burst, but not by much.

“What do you think?” Jester asks the pair of them. “It is very effective at stripping out all that silly bravado, no?”

She turns back to Caleb, and picks up the last two pieces that had been sitting, by the plugs.

“Of course, this is not the part that breaks you,” she says, smoothly. “I so very much want to hear you begging, broken, mine.”

Two cock rings slide onto two hard dicks. They both lean into the touch, at first, but realization hits quickly.

Jester steps back, pulls Caleb back, leaving Molly and Fjord alone in the center of the room.

“Are you having fun?” Jester asks him, softly.

“Ja,” he says, not quite looking away from the pair of them. “You are surprisingly good at this.”

“Well, any good actor has range,” she tells him cheerfully. “Hmmm. How long should we leave them like this? It looks so good, but,”

“At least until they start rutting against each other,” Caleb advises. “What are you planning on next?”

“I’m not going to spoil that for you,” Jester chides. “Just sit back and enjoy the show!”

She pulls away and begins to look through more of the gear set aside. He almost watches her, but she wanted to keep this under wraps, somewhat, and so he focuses on Fjord, on Molly.

They’re pressed against each other once again. Molly’s face is buried in Fjords chest, and Fjord is nuzzling against Molly’s hair, and both are shuddering in unison at the vibrations of the plugs inside of them.

It doesn’t take long for them to start rubbing against each other, Molly bracing himself against Fjords leg to rut against his thigh and Fjord pressed up to Molly’s chest, both moving in rapid, discordant union. It isn’t hard to hear them, panting and whining and moaning and cursing the rings that are doing their job so very well.

He watches Molly shudder through what ought to be an orgasm, and then Jester is there again, and with a clean efficiency she unhooks both of them at once.

They both fall down on to the matted floor, legs too weak to hold them up with the sudden loss of support. Interlocked as they were, it ends with Molly sitting on top of Fjord, who has fallen to his knees, legs splayed out to the side around him providing more than enough of a seat.

Jester kneels down behind Fjord, and she undoes the clamps on his nipples, sliding the chain out. She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and from his position Caleb can just barely hear her order in Fjord ear. “Kiss him.”

Fjord shifts, and he pushes Molly on to the ground and kisses him.

“Such a good boy,” Jester murmurs, running a finger along his spine and then shifting to sit next to him, fingers playing in his hair. When he pulls up for air, she only gives him a few seconds before pushing him back in to the kiss.

He and Molly are still grinding against each other, futilely. When Jester finally pulls Fjord up, roughly, to kiss her, it is far enough to lessen the contact between them. Molly whines at the loss.

Fjord accepts her kiss with no struggle, submitting to her touch, and Jester is grinning, as she pulls away.

“My perfect, obedient boy,” she murmurs, and Fjord shudders especially hard, at that.

“Fight it,” Molly says, eyes full of some renewed strength. “You’re not just gonna give in to this, are you Swordmaster?”

Fjord leans back, sitting across Molly’s legs, and his face is wracked with conflict. “I think he is,” Jester says, her fingers tracing through Molly’s hair. “I think he knows he’s mine.”

That’s what it takes, it seems, because Fjord stands up in a single, swift movement, and makes a break for it. He makes it about ten stumbling feet before falling back down to the mat. It takes a moment, for Caleb to realize what happened, but he sees Jester’s hand on the remote, and Fjord shaking on the ground.

Jester doesn’t look at him, but focuses all her attention on Molly, who is similarly distracted by how intense the vibrations have gotten. “You’re just begging for punishment, birdie,” she says, lifting his head closer to her.

“Please,” Molly chokes out, “just let him go. I’ll do whatever you want, just-”

She yanks him by his hair. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be bargaining with me,” Jester says. She looks down at him. Molly is still chanting, that soft repetition of please, too overwhelmed to keep his eyes open. “But, I feel rather generous, today,” Jester mutters. “I’ll let him go if you fuck him.”

Jester rises, and starts to walk over to where Fjord is. On shaking legs, Molly follows her. She flicks off the vibrators, and Molly’s face shows a mix of relief and loss.

“Are you going to untie me?” he asks, as Jester takes her seat on the mat beside Fjord, pinning him down effortlessly.

“Nope!” Jester says. “I believe in you, Peacock. I know you can do great things.” She does pull out the plug, however, leaving Fjord exposed.

“He’s not prepared enough,” Molly says. “I don’t want to hurt him-”

“And?” Jester asks. “If you need to prepare him, just stretch him out.”

“Yes, I’ll do that with all of the many hands I have free right now,” Molly grumbles.

Jester rolls her eyes. “Eat him out,” she says, and maneuvers Fjord around just so that his ass is up right in Molly’s face.

Molly is very good at this part. That much is clearly evident in Fjord’s reactions, because Molly’s tongue pulls out genuine moans where he had nothing but breathless cries for so long. When he pulls away, his lips are a little red.

“Lube,” he says, leaning back on his knees. “If you want me to just stick my dick in a bottle I can try, but I really think hands are a better option.

“Oh, I agree. Minion!” Jester calls out. She locks eyes with him from across the room, then tilts her head towards Molly’s dick. Molly can’t hide the small glimmer of excitement in his eyes. It’s weirdly adorable, which is not a word that by any rights should apply to the scenario.

Caleb fetches the lube, and he curls his way to sit behind Molly, angling himself to best be cropped out of view. He dips his fingers into the lube and wraps a hand around Molly, starting to coat him with it.

Molly lasts about two seconds before he starts thrusting, and Caleb makes sure each time he does to pull away. It takes a long time before Molly is fully ready, and Caleb’s fingers linger at the ring, waiting for a sign from Jester.

“Please,” Molly calls out.

“Soon, birdie,” Jester assures him. “We want this to last for him, don’t we? I know that as soon as I take that off, you’re done, and that just isn’t fair.” She frowns. “Unless you think you can keep fucking him after you come, but-”

Molly relents to that, at least, and slides himself back over to line himself up with Fjord. It’s difficult work, getting a good angle without hands to push Fjord into place, but Molly makes do.

The first few thrusts are slow and testing, but that is all it takes before he starts slamming into Fjord with a reckless abandon, humping him into the mat with all the force he can muster.

Fjord’s gone boneless, barely able to keep himself up on his knees, and then Jester’s hand runs over his shaking thighs, dancing over his dick, and releases the cock ring. She brushes him slightly before pulling away again, and that’s what it takes for Fjord to go into the mat, seeking the only friction available, and pull Molly down with him.

He’s not certain when Fjord comes. But eventually he’s stopped moving and is lying there, utterly worn out, Molly still plowing into him. Jester waits until it seems Molly is losing steam before she pulls him out with a hand on the ropes still wrapped around his arms, dragging him to his feet.

“How do you feel, birdie?” he hears her ask, softly.

“Please,” Molly moans, leaning into her touch.

She tsks. “Not an answer.” But her hand still goes down to Molly’s dick, and she runs her fingers along it a few times, head leaning on his shoulder, before she clicks off the ring and let’s Molly thrust into her hand until he comes all over Fjord, who is still lying there on the floor.

His legs shake, afterwards, and Caleb’s not certain if he’d be able to stand without Jester holding him up.

“You did so good for me,” she murmurs. “So good.Your little friends should be here soon, so, tell me: which one of you do I take.”

“Me,” Molly says, leaning into her. “Take me.”

“Minion! Take Phoenix for me!” Jester orders, and he steps forward to take Molly from her grasp, letting him lean most his weight onto him. He takes him to the side, off screen, and watches Jester kneel down beside Fjord, who’s just struggling to pull himself together, again.

“I’ll see you soon, Swordmaster,” she murmurs, kissing the top of his head, before taking a long, dramatic walk down the set before coming over to where Caleb has sat Molly down. “Cut!” she calls out, and makes her way back to Fjord to help him stand up.”

Both their arms are riddled with rope marks, but they look like they’re all light enough to fade in a day. He watches as Jester takes Fjord off set, presumably to shower off.

“Have fun?” Molly asks, perking back up already.

“I think that is what I should be asking you,” Caleb says.

“You know I always have fun,” Molly says, “but this is new for you.”

“It was enjoyable, ja,” he says. “You should probably also go take a shower.”

“Can’t move,” Molly whines. “Carry me?”

“If you wanted to be carried, you should have asked Jester,” Caleb chides him. “But I will help.” He stands up, and pulls Molly to his feet. Molly drapes himself all over Caleb's shoulders, more than a bit dramatically, but they manage to make their way regardless.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038259

"Jester arranges things, which means getting everyone baths and finding herself something pretty to wear and rearranging the furniture in the inn room. The bed goes in the middle of the floor, and most of the blankets end up on a chair in the corner until Jester realizes someone might want to sit there and tosses them onto the dressing table instead. Then she dries her hair, and dresses in rosy lace and satin, and hops up and down a few times until the nervous flutter in her stomach quiets enough for her to consider how best to arrange herself on the bed."

In which Jester asks for a gift from the Mighty Nein, and they indulge her with great enthusiasm.

(Inspired by this prompt (https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/3194.html?thread=1279610#cmt1279610) but as OP requested no blood, not posting it as a fill. Pay no attention to the duration of the spell.)

Nobody ever questions that they share a room at inns. Nobody ever assumes it’s anything other than because they’re such close friends, such close travelling companions.

None of them suspects it’s because there are nights where Caleb covers Nott’s mouth with his own as he thrusts into her, jagged teeth cutting his lip as she eagerly meets each movement.

This time her wandering eyes have locked onto a certain minotaur and, well. It’s one thing that he’s already sleeping with a married woman who’s still occasionally guilty about the fact; he’s not going to let her cuckold Yeza twice over.

Not when he has a spell that can satiate the particular need she’s displaying.

He’s already inside her when he casts it, watching her eyes grow wide as she realizes what he’s doing, her claws digging into his flesh.

“Caleb, what are—oh. Oh!”

He has to cover the entire lower half of her face with his solid palm because although her small body stretches to accommodate him and she strives against him as greedily as ever, the way she’s sobbing and screaming could easily be misconstrued.

She writhes under him, eyes wide, squeezing him impossibly tightly, but not so much that he can’t thrust into her, the thumb of his other large hand grinding against her tiny clit.

She comes once in ecstasy, the second time in pained pleasure, and then pushes at his shoulders. “Caleb, stop,” she whimpers against his palm, and he whispers in her ear, “Not until you’ve had more than enough of me, sweetheart.”

Though she keeps shoving weakly at his shoulders as he pins her to the small bed, one clawed foot presses into his thick thigh to pull him deeper and her cunt clenches around his aching, throbbing cock, betraying the truth of her desire.

She’s so small next to his enlarged form, he realizes, that he can simply lift her without slipping out of her. His thumb leaves her clit and that hand slips under her ass, lifting as he rolls to sit with his back to the wall and her on his lap. He takes his hand off her mouth for one second and she lunges in to bite his shoulder viciously, and Caleb steadies her where he wants her before his palm cradles the back of her head and his fingers wrap around to once more cover her mouth.

“Vicious little minx,” he whispers. “I might have given your cunt a break, but not if you’re going to bite. You’re the one who wanted this so badly, wanted to be fucked senseless by a massive thick cock, and you know I always give you what you want to the very best of my ability.”

Keeping his hand over her mouth, his other hand grips her hip and drives her down hard on the thick column of flesh piercing her, practically bouncing her on his lap.

She comes again, all protesting aside, squirting hard and dripping down over him. Caleb kisses her forehead tenderly, even as he keeps driving into her. “You’re so good... I knew you could keep going. Is it too much for you? Are you too sensitive?” At her frantic nod, Caleb gives her a smile that shows too much teeth. “I don’t think you are. I think you can keep taking it. And I’m not done yet.”

Her howl of protest is perceptible even through his muffling hand, but when her little hands come to rest on his biceps all she does is curl her claws to dig in and hold on rather than fight him off.

He pushes her through another shuddering orgasm and this time she starts crying with the intensity of the physical sensation, tears rolling down her cheeks and over his hand. She’s still moving on him to an extent, though he’s putting in the vast majority of the work and she’s mostly along for the ride at this point.

“Is it really too much, darling?” he asks as the tears flow; Nott simply answers him by biting his finger and growling, and Caleb laughs at her as his hand on her hip shifts, thumb finding her clit again, his other fingers curling under her thigh to rub along the soft green skin and tease at her anus the same way he’s teasing her clit.

Nott gasps and this time really does try to pull away; Caleb withdraws his fingers with one last stroke over the tight pucker. “Maybe another time...” he murmurs for the sake of hearing her whimper with intrigued fear. She’ll take it... one day that curiosity will beat out the fear and she’ll beg for it, just to find out how it feels, the way she begged to move beyond their initial guilt-ridden kissing and touching.

At the end Caleb lets his hand drop from her mouth to her hip and grinds her down onto his aching length, finding her mouth with his to groan against her lips as her cunt flutters and clenches around him. Nott’s teeth cut his lip as they do every time; he’s coming to associate the taste of his own blood with their shared pleasure.

The first pulse inside her is a thick, sticky spurt that squelches out around his cock as he withdraws to thrust again, and Nott gasps and starts giggling as the following thrusts make downright obscene noises. Caleb can’t laugh, though the messiness is quite funny; he’s too focused on how intense it feels to spill over inside her small body when he’s sized like this. Always intoxicatingly tight on his cock, she’s even more so with the magical enlargement involved. Dangerous. Something he could get so easily addicted to.

He clasps her in his arms as he softens and slides out of her, as his body is restored to its usual dimensions. She’s trembling, her forehead pressed to his neck, but she holds him no less tightly for it as they take up their usual sleeping position: face to face, arms around one another, even for the nights that haven’t concluded in this manner. Frumpkin, aware that the cessation of frantic movement means his presence will now be welcome again, curls into the small of Caleb’s back.

Neither of them speak for a long while, the pull of sleep far too strong, but at last Nott murmurs, “Thank you, Caleb... you make all my dreams come true.”

Caleb kisses her forehead. “And you, Nott... you are all my dreams.”

In the beginning, there was Primordial Chaos, stretching into infinity and just starting to grow conscious. And, at one point, from the same spark Chaos had come from, another flame, another soul was created. Knowing they were no longer alone, Chaos took on a physical form and began searching for the other flame. It took time but, eventually, they found each other.

When they first found you, you were at your lowest. Your first love had left without so much as a goodbye or an explanation and for the first time ever, you were alone. They found you and, the second you laid eyes on them, you knew them; as if you had known each other from the very beginning of everything. And, in a way, you had.

Eventually, you died. And then, you were reincarnated. But, as you died, so did a part of Primordial Chaos. And by some ineffable mean, that part of them was reincarnated as well. The two of you died and lived for many lives, millions of lives. But each and every time, you found each other.

In one life, you were known as Loki and Sigyn. In another, you both perished as Mount Vesuvius engulfed Pompeii. There were many more and, perhaps for the better, you barely remember any of them. The one thing you know for sure is that your twin flame and you will find each other, no matter what.

So, in the moments when you doubt everything, when you feel like you’re drowning and the world is breaking down around you, do not doubt them. Do not forget that what is meant to be, will be, in time.

Edited 2021-10-01 06:43 (UTC)

In retrospect Taliesin couldn't even remember what Marisha had said that made him give himself away. It was a joke, something funny enough to make him laugh until his eyes watered, but all that his brain had hung onto was the moment afterwards, the moment when he tried to catch his breath and just blurted out, "God, I love you."

They'd said it to each other before, of course, like everyone in the group. But this time he was too tired to hit the right note, and it was too sincere and too obvious – he could tell that much by the way Marisha's eyes went wide as she understood just exactly how he meant it.

She sucked in a breath. "Tal— you're not saying that you—"

"Fuck," he said. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Do me the kindness of pretending you don't know that, will you?"

"Taliesin—"

"Please, Marisha."

"I— okay. If that's what you want."

Her expression was something that Taliesin couldn't identify. "It is," he said, and then hurried to add, "You can tell Matt, of course. I wouldn't ask you to keep it from him. Just… Let's never speak of this again."

Marisha looked at him for a long moment, then reached over and tugged on his hair. "Back to work, then," she said, and turned to their comic script once again. It was a mercy – but also, depressingly, a disappointment. A small, unworthy part of him had wanted her to push, wanted her to dig it out of him so that he could lance the boil. An even less worthy part of him had wanted her to kiss him.

-----

He managed to keep his shit together until after they finished for the day. Marisha looked like she wanted to say something as they parted, but instead she just reeled him into a hug, hard. Taliesin closed his eyes and hugged her back, but it was hard to take comfort in it when all he could think about was whether he was touching her too much. Whether he had been touching her too much all along.

"See you tomorrow." she said, pulling back. It wasn't a question. Tomorrow was Thursday.

"Yeah, of course," Taliesin replied. He forced himself not to watch her go, forced himself to smile at the rest of the office as he passed through on his way out. Forced himself to drive home carefully, forced himself to eat a bowl of ramen with actual vegetables in it.

Then he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the back of the cabinet and proceeded to get intensely, desperately wasted.

-----

His hangover in the morning was practically supernatural in awfulness. He'd slept on the sofa – half hanging off it, to be truthful – and his neck ached from the strain. His head felt like an old school screamo band had invaded it and his mouth like he'd sunburnt his tongue.

His heart welcomed all of it – a penance that he more than deserved.

A shower didn't much help, nor the disgusting bowl of over-sugared cereal, nor the gigantic triple shot coffee he acquired on the way to the studio offices. But at least he was upright and could string a sentence together, even if every step felt like climbing a mountain of self-loathing.

Marisha wasn't in – a holy blessing from an entity he couldn't name. He sent a prayer of thanks to them anyway and hid himself away in an office. Ivan turned up, took one look at him, and went away only to return with another coffee. Taliesin leaned his head against Ivan's stomach for a moment of brief comfort before turning back to his laptop. It seemed for a moment like Ivan might say something, but then he just shook his head and left again.

There were meetings in the afternoon, important enough to make Taliesin's presence not solely masochism. By that point the coffee had more or less kicked in and concentrating had become easy enough, even if he still felt like shit warmed over. But then it was evening and they gathered in the Twitch studio and everyone was there, and he had to look Marisha in the face and smile and pretend like every inch of his soul didn't ache.

Please, op, I want some more?

archiveofourown.org/works/25124635

Liam hasn't slept all con because there's an Omega out there on the verge of going into heat, and all he can focus on is their scent in the air. The only reason he hasn't bailed early is that he hasn't said goodbye to his new self-declared best friend yet.

Then he figures out who the scent's coming from.

He'd thought – hoped – that they would dive into the game quickly. But instead, while they were setting up, Matt caught his eye. "Taliesin." He crooked a finger in a beckoning gesture. His tone left no room for argument. Taliesin followed him into the back hallway next to the bathrooms. Matt closed the door behind them. "Marisha told me something last night."

"I'm sorry," Taliesin blurted. "Matt, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" fall in love with your wife, his brain finished, but he had enough self-preservation not to say that part out loud. "If you want me to fuck off…"

Matt gave him a horrified look. "Don't you dare think I'd doubt you," he said fiercely. "I know you better than that."

"Better than I know myself, if you're that sure," Taliesin said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Maybe I do, then," said Matt. He gripped the back of Taliesin's neck, using the bottom of his mohawk to reel him into a hug. "Asshole."

Taliesin blinked stinging eyes and buried his face in Matt's shoulder. "Sorry," he said. "It's been a shitty year."

"A year?"

"Fuck," Taliesin said wearily. "Can I please stop telling people uncomfortable things now?"

Footsteps clomped deliberately towards the door. From the rhythm it was obviously Sam; Taliesin spared a smile at the thought of his friends haggling over who would have to be the one to interrupt.

"I guess now isn't the time," Matt said.

"I would remind you that I'd be perfectly happy to talk about this literally never," Taliesin said. "But yes, come on." He raised his voice. "I think Sam needs to do some method acting in preparation for being Scanlan."

"My asshole is primed and ready!" Sam called back, and Matt burst into helpless laughter as Taliesin stepped back and opened the door.

Matt smiles as he feels large arms wrap around him from behind.

"Hi Matty" Travis croons.

Matt laughs. "Welcome back to the tent." Travis, Laura, and Marisha had gone exploring for a while but Matt stayed behind wanting a lazy afternoon.

Travis was far more affectionate than normal but they'd all been this weekend. He doesn't let go, just hums an acknowledgment and continues the embrace. Matt's enjoying the novelty of being wrapped up in someone bigger than him.

"We missed you. We were talking about you." Travis' voice is still a touch teasing.

"Good things I hope."

"Oh the best. Your wife told me something very interesting."

Matt has to swallow before he speaks. With how affectionate Travis was and his tone of voice he had a good guess exactly what they had been talking about. Matt and Marisha had always fooled around with other people, especially on these trips, and Travis and Laura were well aware coming into this that should they be interested that absolutely extended to them.

"I'm sure she did." Matt starts to feel sparks of arousal down his spine. He can't think of a better response, not when all he can picture is how pretty Marisha would look riding Travis. He can feel Travis inch in minutely closer. He has to lean down to whisper in his ear, which is far sexier than it should be.

"I heard you like getting fucked." Travis says in his ear, voice deep and smooth.

Oh. Oh fuck. He feels himself start to get hard just from that. Its disorienting how turned on he is. He always just assumed Travis was straight and would only be interested in Marisha. Not that he hasn't... thoroughly imagined this very scenario a time or two. He starts to nod even before he speaks.

"Yeah, yeah uh that is, um that's true. Yes. I do. Like that."

He can hear Travis laugh a little at his rambling and it feels oddly comforting.

Travis stays close, and he can hear him breathing slightly faster. He's nervous Matt realizes. Which, of course. So is he.

"You know what she also said? She said she'd like to watch me fuck you. Said she wanted to watch. What do you think about that Matty? You gonna give your wife what she wants?"

Sweet fuck he hasn't gotten this hard this fast since he was 20. "Yeah. Yeah."

Travis hums in his ear. "Yeah? You want me take care of you?"

"Yes" Matt whines.

"You want me to fuck me?"

"Please!" Matt gasps. Travis nips at his ear before pulling back enough to spin Matt so they're face to face.

"This will be fun."

Matt nods silently. Travis flashes him a grin before heading out to the chairs they'd set up outside camp. He can hear muffled talking and Travis heads back in, this time with Laura and Ashley in tow. Laura has the most mischievous smirk on her face that he's seen outside the game. Marisha has a gentler smile with knowing eyes and he's walking over and pulling her in for a kiss before he realizes he's doing it.

The kiss, obviously, devolves into the two of them making our in the tent. Marisha's soft and warm against him as he licks into her mouth. When they break it off its so Matt can spend some time kissing the freckles down her neck.

He can feel the other couple's eyes on them and it makes his heart pump faster. They've never kissed like that in front of Laura and Travis before. A glance in their direction shows Laura looking on very interested, and Travis too busy feeling Laura up to watch. His nerves are quickly being replaced with excitement.

He breaks away from Marisha's neck and after one more kiss turns to face Laura and Travis.

Travis approaches him intently. Matt glances at Marisha for a quick check in but her eyes are bright and encouraging. Matt turns back to Travis as Travis starts to pull him in with one hand. He stops when they are just a couple inches apart.

"Still want to fuck?" Travis asks, in a low voice. He's checking in with Matt and it makes Matt smile. Of course he does.

"Yes." He replied plainly. Travis nods then moves a hand to the back of Matt's head to pull him in for a kiss.

Its hot and wet, and Travis' beard scrapes deliciously against him. They're both hesitant with their hands at first, but soon Travis is gripping Matt's face while Matt slowly slides his hands under Travis' shirt. Matt moans at the muscles he feels. He knew Travis was built but being able to actually get his hands on him is something else entirely. He's moaning into the kiss as he traces Travis' abs with his fingers. Travis wraps a hand up in Matt's hair and pulls him in closer. He starts to run his beard across Matt's neck gently biting at certain spots. Those make Matt let out a low grunt and he can feel Travis smiling against him in response.

Travis just has his hands in his hair, scraping gently against his neck. It makes Matt shift his hips wanting more, but he doesn't want to be too demanding of Travis knowing this is likely his first time with someone other than Laura in years. It doesn't matter because almost as soon as the thought passes through his head he hears Marisha speak up.

"He likes it when you pull his hair." Her voice is low and urgent and Matt can't help but open his eyes when he hears her talk. As soon as he makes eye contact with Marisha Travis tugs. He bucks his hips and lets out a groan when it means he can feel Travis hard up against him. He has to fight to keep his eyes open as Travis continues sucking and biting on his neck in combination with a deliciously strong hand threading through and pulling his hair.

The struggle is worth it because currently Marisha is looking at him dead in the eye smirking while Laura is mouthing along her shoulder with both hands down her pants feeling Marisha's ass. He grinds into Travis until its too much and he starts tugging Travis towards one of the air mattresses in the corner.

As they both start to strip he can hear Marisha muttering something to Laura before he sees them start moving things around next to the mattress. He glances confused a few times before he realizes they're making room to push the other air mattress up against this one. By the time they finish Travis has Matt naked on his stomach. Marisha gets up kissing Laura on the other bed but he's distracted by Travis' hands running down his back and rubbing his ass. Suddenly a towel is flung on top of his head and Matt giggles.

"Gee thanks babe" he says sarcastically as he sees a towel similarly flung haphazardly at Laura too. He shoves it beneath them. After a few minutes of Travis kissing and biting and generally going to town on Matt's body Matt's leaking already and he's glad Marisha thought ahead.

An emphatic "Oh fuck yes" has both Matt and Travis turning their heads. Marisha is standing over Laura at the edge of the mattress, wearing nothing but her panties and harness with a slim curved glittery red dildo. It happens to be Matt's very favorite. Marisha nonchalantly tosses Travis a condom and one of the two mini bottles of lube she has in her hand. They wind up landing somewhere to the opposite side of Matt on the mattress as Travis does not even try to catch either of them. Matt looks back to see Travis frozen, mouth slightly open, staring as Marisha laughs and Laura gets naked on the bed.

From there everything seems to fade together. Marisha takes her time with Laura, eating her out while fingering her slowly. Travis tries to open Matt up, stroking him as he goes, but he keeps getting too distracted by Marisha and Laura to do anything but be a complete tease. Matt finally shrugs him off and does the job himself, as speedily and efficiently as possible. He's not exactly disinterested in the display two feet from him either and he wants Travis inside him yesterday. By the time he's ready Laura has both of her hands buried in Marisha's ears and is bucking up into her mouth. Neither Travis nor Matt makes a move until Laura comes, biting on her hand to keep quiet. She's gorgeous and it makes Matt even more desperate. Once she's caught her breathe Marisha climbs up on the bed and starts getting a condom on the strap on.

Travis does the same, putting the condom on and lubing up. Matt flips over to watch and Travis flashes him a grin before he turns back around. Marisha puts lube on the strap on too. After that he can see Marisha looking over at Travis and giving him a nod. Then he feels Travis up against him and he has to bury his face in the mattress at the feeling of Travis first pressing in.

They're loud. They all know they're in a tent and have been trying their best to keep quiet but its slightly impossible when there's four people fucking at the same time. All of their moans and grunts blend together as Matt melts into the feeling of Travis inside him. He's good at this for a beginner, tries a few different angles until he finds the one that gets Matt moaning and keeps that one up.

When Matt feels himself getting close he turns his head again. He can see Laura is turned looking at them and they lock eyes. It's intense and wonderful and before he can think about it he's panting himself down on the bed so he doesn't need both arms to hold him up and grabbing Laura's hand that was clutched in a fist by her mouth. She grips into him while crying out and that's how Matt comes; grinding into the towel holding Laura's hand while Travis fucks into him.

Once they're all panting and collapsed on the bed Laura is the first to laugh. Matt cracks next, then Travis, then Marisha until they're all cuddled up against each other giggling naked.

Ivan discovers the new additions to his body when he’s jerking off one day.

Suddenly it’s not just his hand on his cock but a small, inquisitive tentacle that’s emerged painlessly from his right wrist and wraps around his base. There’s a moment of pure shock and terror, but then it starts teasing his sac, and the manipulation by the tiny suckers makes his eyes roll back in his head.

He reaches down with his other hand to touch it, feeling firm slick skin under his fingertips, and the tentacle nudges his fingers, suckers leaving his balls for a moment, making him involuntarily whimper with the loss of contact. And it seems to understand that vocalization, because it wraps around his left wrist and gives a little squeeze, and the next thing he knows there’s a second one curling out of his left wrist.

Breathing shakily, Ivan lowers his left hand to cup his sac, and the tentacle immediately presses down between his legs, seeking out his entrance, and holy fuck those little suckers rippling at his rim have him thrusting into his hand, jerking recklessly hard as the right tentacle begins manipulating his cockhead. It’s still so bizarre he’s sure he’s imagining it, but then the one investigating his ass dips inside him and he’s pretty sure he actually whites out for a moment when he comes.

When he returns to some semblance of regular consciousness, he assesses the situation. He’s streaked waist to thigh with both his come and a slippery clear substance that is evidently some kind of tentacle secretion.

They have retracted back into his wrists, and currently there’s no sign of them under his skin aside from more slick on his wrists.

Ivan doesn’t know why they exist, or why they chose now to show themselves, but he’s not at all surprised by the part where they’re spurred by sexual intent. He remembers the careful curiosity but underlying determination, particularly from the one that pushed inside him, and feels his cock stirring.

In response there’s a fluttering under the skin of his right wrist. He lifts it to look but it stops, as though the tentacle is shy.

Curious, he licks at the secretion on his wrist. It tastes bland, a little salty like sweat perhaps, and it’s the consistency of good lube. Of course.

He licks his wrist again, pressing the flat of his tongue against his pulse point, and feels something pressing back.

Again, it doesn’t hurt when it emerges from his skin; it feels as natural as perhaps growing a sixth digit. Strange, unusual, but part of him. Ivan instinctively parts his lips and lets it slip into his mouth, letting it explore.

His left hand is resting on his chest, and he feels the second tentacle slide out again, suckers clamping onto one nipple and suckling while the tip flicks the other nipple. He groans and feels the one in his mouth press deeper, questing into his throat. He gags a little and it withdraws again, tip rubbing against the roof of his mouth.

He can feel the tension building between his legs, not just increased arousal but the sensation that something bigger is about to happen, and he’s terrified again but the tentacle manipulating his nipples is very good at what it’s doing. A fast learner.

The one that was in his mouth slips out again and curls around his throat, and Ivan lets it, lets it squeeze tighter, feeling the rush of adrenaline as darkness begins to grow before his eyes.

He feels when it divides. One tentacle remains around his throat, squeezing and releasing. The new, smaller one quests into his gasping mouth and he feels it swell like a cock hardening against his tongue.

The one protruding from his left wrist does the same: the primary tentacle continues to suckle and tease at his nipples, while the new one twines around his wrists, binding them together. Ivan whines, hips thrusting against nothing but air, his cock having gone from zero to aching ridiculously quickly.

He can still feel that odd extra tension between his thighs, and he’s horrified at these changes to his body at the same time as he’s embracing the bizarre but incredible sensations. He thinks he has some inkling of what happens next, and if he could plead with his own body he would.

Experimentally, he sucks on the tip of the tentacle in his mouth, and is rewarded with a body-shaking burst of pleasure. Oh. Fuck. Maybe he can come if he keeps doing it? He rolls over onto his front; the tentacles don’t stop him and he can rub against the mattress, sucking desperately and trying to get the right kind of friction against his cock. Waves of pleasure shudder through him.

He needs more though, he needs something in him, and when he thinks of that he finally feels the third one push through the skin, surfacing beside his cock. It wraps around his length, the slender tip slipping—oh fuck—into his urethra. Not the in that he was thinking about but it’s a fascinating sensation.

Ivan chokes, caught between the tentacle encircling his throat and the one in his mouth that seems to be thickening further. He sucks on it, writhes against the one around his cock, and feels the fourth one surface on the other side of his cock.

He groans again and feels a spurt of something in his throat as the fourth tentacle begins nuzzling along his cleft. It’s thicker than the wrist ones, wetter, with what seems to be a fringe of tiny suckers at its tip that waste no time on beginning to lick and lap and even kind of nibble at his rim, making him thrash and grunt.

The one across his chest is making him almost unbearably sensitive and he’s not sure if that’s just the sucking or whether there’s something in the slick doing it. The one in his mouth is beginning to thrust rhythmically but this time when the thickening tip delves into his throat he doesn’t gag.

It’s no surprise when two more erupt from his ankles. One immediately wraps around them to bind his legs together, while the other slides up his thigh and immediately splits at the tip, suckers adhering strongly to his ass to spread his cheeks, giving the other one better access to eat him out.

Ivan’s just about in tears at this point, overstimulated, but still striving for more. The tentacle encircling his cock is now very much holding him back, and he feels something spurt into his urethra. Moments later he feels a spreading numbness, similar to the way he now realizes that his throat feels.

Well, that’s different.

So is the slow deep push of the fringed tentacle inside him. He can feel the tendrils teasing at his prostate and moans, tears leaking from his eyes, precome dribbling around the little tip that’s inside his cock.

The one inside his ass is bold, the fringe tentacles still rippling against his prostate as the main tentacle itself thickens, and thickens, and he feels it stretching him, and then the one that snaked up from his ankle starts teasing his rim and Ivan screams and comes, gasping for air around the one that’s now quite deeply buried in his throat.

It doesn’t stop there. The clever manipulation of his prostate combined with the tight grip on his cock has him getting hard again within minutes. There must be something with aphrodisiac qualities in the slick secretions. Ivan does wonder how long these—these growths expect him to hold out, but then the thick fringed one slims down until it’s basically just a slender prostate toy, albeit one that would be a marvel of mechanical engineering if it weren’t organic.

He’s not ready for the one that was lapping at his rim to thrust inside him, but it does, setting a hard punishing rhythm that’s in utter contrast to the gentle manipulation of his prostate.

His cock pulses hard and Ivan wails, realizing he just came dry. The tentacles seem pleased and not a moment later he feels a second peak approaching. He’s sobbing more with just how intense it is, and the tentacle that’s still wrapped loosely around his throat traces each tear track down his cheek, sucking up the salty wetness.

His hips jerk hard as the second dry orgasm is pulled out of him. It’s good and it feels like he’s going to die but it’s so good.

The one caging his cock slowly releases, and Ivan expects that now he’s going to go soft, that it’s way too much for his body to handle, but then its suckers cup his sac, rippling over the delicate skin, and he knows that won’t be the case.

Everything turns to those light teasing touches as though these extra parts sense he’s on the verge of actual pain. The one in his throat withdraws and starts playing with his tongue, and Ivan can’t resist licking it back, sucking on the tip, and then the one in his ass shudders as though it’s coming. Something spurts inside him and suddenly he’s dripping slick, and that one’s slithering in and out of him in a way that would be profoundly disturbing if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

It builds him up again, none of them touching his cock, just the play with his balls and ass enough to get him hard, and the slow slither turns back into deep hard thrusts until he’s shamelessly rutting against the mattress again, cries garbled around the tentacle in his mouth. The one that was cleaning away his tears wraps around his throat again; the one on his chest suckles wetly; he comes without a single one of them on his cock, squirming against the mattress and feeling the wetness spread under him.

They all retract as abruptly as they first appeared, and Ivan collapses in a panting, messy heap. His body yearns for more, and he manages to sit up to examine his skin dappled with pink suck-marks, hands exploring his cock and balls and ass to feel the residue of come and slick.

He barely has to touch his cock to have it return to full hardness. He fists it loosely, letting it slide in his very wet hand, and it’s good but it’s not the same.

Addiction comes fast when it sparks pleasure so intense.

They erupt out of him this time, as though they’d retreated just to see if he was done, and Ivan finds himself on his back, curled so tightly back on himself that his cock is brushing his lips. The tentacles have him firmly trussed up in that position, and Ivan feels like his spine has become semi-liquid, because the contorted position is surprisingly easy to hold. (Although he doesn’t think he could hold it unassisted.)

Two of the tentacles open his mouth. A third slips into his ass, and Ivan recognizes the fringed rippling sensation against his prostate as the first drops of precome drip into his open mouth.

Fuck. Fuck it.

Ivan pokes his tongue out and laps at the tip of his own cock. It feels a lot better than his teenage experimentation, probably because he’s not dealing with the logistics of having to hold his own body steady.

The tentacle inside him wriggles approvingly and Ivan feels more salty wetness run over his tongue. The tentacles wrapping his body pull tighter and he can take the head into his mouth.

He doesn’t really need the two holding his mouth open, but it feels good anyway, that sense of loss of control. Not his usual side of the coin, but then again, neither is being equipped with tentacles that he didn’t have to buy from a particularly interesting online store.

The tentacles tighten again. One lifts his head up, forcing another inch into his mouth. It still doesn’t hurt; it’s like his bones have gone soft and flexible.

The one in his ass is joined by a second again, and Ivan groans around his own cock as the tentacle thickens and writhes. His hips jerk, and he doesn’t need the avidly thrusting tentacle inside him to encourage him to suck his own cock.

He’s not even sure how many there are any more or if it’s only the six and they’ve divided. He feels another caressing his cheek and realizes dimly through the pleasure and outright surreality of the scene that it’s petting at his cockhead, that he’s deep enough in his own mouth for that, and that’s when he shoots down his own throat, struggling to breathe but even that lightheadedness bringing ecstasy.

His cock softens, withdraws from his mouth, smearing come across his lips and cheek.

The tentacles retract again.

Ivan slowly, carefully lowers his legs to lie flat, and then rolls onto his side so he’s not putting pressure on either his ass or chest.

He feels thoroughly used. He feels incredible.

He hopes this isn’t a one-time only occurrence.

This was a really fun read!

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Page 4 of 5

Critical Role kink meme post #3: Unprompted Kinky Writing

Re: Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Necessity NC17 Ivan van Norman/Liam O'brien; strait jacket sex

Re:(2 of 2) Necessity NC17 Ivan van Norman/Liam O'brien; strait jacket sex

"An Eager Man", Matt/Liam, mentioned Matt/Marisha, teen and up, spoilers for The Search for Grog

A More Civilized Era (Sam/Travis, G)

Re: Slow Fuse. Caleb/OFC. E. Feel-good oral

Re: "An Eager Man", Matt/Liam, mentioned Matt/Marisha, teen and up, spoilers for The Search for Grog

Caduceus/Jester first time, friends, E

Re: "Public Indecency", Sam/Liam, Explicit, 2/2

Re: Caduceus/OMCs, noncon h/c, 2/2

Re: Caduceus/Jester first time, friends, E

Fjord/Jester/Molly (+Caleb), porn star AU, bondage, non-con rp 1/2

Fjord/Jester/Molly (+Caleb), porn star AU, bondage, non-con rp 2/2

A cure I know that soothes the soul, rated E

Caleb/Nott, use of Enlarge spell, E; size difference, rough sex, biting, clawing

"Who knows, at this point?", Taliesin/Reader? Kinda?

M/M/T - aaaangst 1/?

Re: M/M/T - aaaangst 1/?

"Plum and Pine", Liam/Sam, Omegaverse, E

Re: M/M/T - aaaangst 2/?

1/3 Travis/Matt/Laura/Marisha Burning Man Shenanigans

Re: 2/3 Travis/Matt/Laura/Marisha Burning Man Shenanigans

3/3 Travis/Matt/Laura/Marisha Burning Man Shenanigans

Untitled Ivan solo with tentacles and autofellatio, E, 1/1

Re: Untitled Ivan solo with tentacles and autofellatio, E, 1/1