bucketlist | Homestuck Kink Meme: Act 2

Dirk: admire that plush rump.

sexy, sensual assplay, anons. drawn-out fingering. a rimming scene. make it hot.

Someone orders Equius to try to dominate them. How does he react?

((Anon, I'm so sorry, this is entirely too pale and full of feelings when I suspect you wanted hot porn. I don't even know what happened! And I hope somebody gives you a proper sexy fill for this. ;;))

You don't have your communication system up and running yet; you're out of contact with the red team, and for all that you'd generally prefer things that way (just thinking about those hooligans makes your skin prickle with distaste) you know it can't be permitted. You will need everyone's skills to defeat the challenge ahead, and that means cooperating with the uncouth lowbloods of the other team.

And, unfortunately, the uncouth lowbloods of your own team as well. "Captor," you say. He is responsible for the network, but he appears to be shirking his duties. You have found him in the engineering block, sitting slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. "You will return to your task."

"There'th no point," he says flatly.

"That is ludicrous," you say. "There is most certainly a point. I would have thought you would want to contact your...compatriots."

He tilts his head, staring at you over the rims of his bicolored glasses—presumably staring at you; the psionic discoloration of his eyes makes it impossible to be sure where he is looking. "Thith whole thing ith hopeleth," he tells you.

You grit your teeth, trying to keep calm. "This is your defect speaking, isn't it?"

"Fuck you," Captor says. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on it; the gesture speaks of a lonely, awkward misery that somehow disrupts the anger building within you. It's...pitiable, isn't it? For him to be so talented and yet so helpless to disrupt the harmful cycles of his brain. That's not a comfortable thought at all. His blood is yellow, for goodness' sake. You should have better control over your feelings.

"What do you need to rein this in?" you ask. Captor doesn't acknowledge the pun. He shrugs one bony shoulder, letting his head droop further. "Vantas assists you at times, does he not?"

"I gueth," Captor says.

This is not how trolls are supposed to behave. This is not how trolls are supposed to lead. But you are certain that Vantas will be coaxing cooperation out of the hopeless cases in his charge, and you will not allow yourself to be outdone. "What does he do with you, when you get like this?"

"He giveth me crap," Captor says bitterly. "He puth—pusheth me, fuck, it'th pointleth anyway. Jutht go away."

"I will not," you tell him, and you punctuate the statement by putting your fist into the wall beside you—gosh, you're trying to control yourself, but it's difficult and he's not rational in the least. "I will not go away, and I will not allow this to continue."

Captor winces, or perhaps it's intended to be a smile and he simply can't make it stick. "Clothe," he says. "You'd have to thay fuck a lot more to thound like him, though."

"I will not do that either," you say. "I refuse to believe that his vulgarity is an essential part of your treatment."

"Hehe," he says, not so much actual laughter as a gesture that stands in for the real thing. "Fine."

You concentrate on your breathing for a moment, giving yourself a moment to rein in your temper. "It is not fine," you say. "Nothing about this situation is fine. It cannot be permitted to continue. You will get up."

"Or you'll make me?" Captor asks.

He is trying to provoke you, you are nearly certain of it. "This foolishness borders on actively suicidal," you tell him; goading a highblood to rage has been classified as suicide in the courts, you are almost certain. Pyrope could confirm it if you were in contact with her. "But I am not interested in playing games with you. Yes, I will make you get up if I must."

Captor only stares at you blankly.

Your digestive sac roils, and the back of your neck prickles with sweat. He wants you to take control of him, to force him to function; that is the natural order of things. And yet circumstances demand that you do so in a completely unnatural manner, with concern for his well-being rather than simply displaying dominance. You wish there were someone qualified to tell you what to do. Even some rule of etiquette to govern this situation—anything to give you orders so you could be confident in your actions.

Carefully, exercising as much control as you can, you reach down to take hold of his shirt collar and pull him up. He weighs next to nothing, not even enough to tear his shirt (though your claws are certainly leaving it the worse for wear). He makes a choking, hissing noise as you drag him upright, and tiny sparks of red and blue race down his arms, but the attack—if that's what it would have been—ends before it begins.

"Disgraceful," you tell him. "And selfish. All of the others are counting on you, and you sit here feeling sorry for yourself." You dump him in the chair in front of his abandoned husktop. "Finish the network so the rest of us can get on with coordinating our parts in this game."

Captor glares weakly at you. His psionics prickle again but still do nothing of substance. "You're even more of a fuckath about thith than KK," he says.

"Your language is execrable," you tell him. "And I am only being practical. Would you even believe me if I claimed to be overcome with pity and attempted to coddle you?"

"Might have gotten a laugh out of it, at leatht," he says.

"Stop trying to antagonize me," you tell him gently. You turn his chair around for him so he's facing the screen. "Finish configuring the network, Captor." You force down your pride. "Please."

"Yeth, thir," Captor says, his tone bitter and sarcastic; you can't tell whether he's honestly irritated or trying to mask gratitude with sarcasm.

You stay with him, supervising, or perhaps reminding him that he is not alone. Once, his typing stalls, and you can see in the reflection of the screen how his teeth catch unhappily at his lip. You place one hand against his back as gently as you can. He still makes a noise like he's in pain, but when you try to remove the offending hand his psionics come to life, a crackle of light circling your wrist and holding on. You leave your hand where it is.

Captor works his way through the impossibilities of setting up a network through theoretical space, lisping quiet, furious curses. Apart from his appalling language, you are reminded of the difficulties you've had with some of your more complex robotics. Tentatively, you allow your thumb to stroke the back of his neck. He doesn't respond, but that means he isn't pushing you away.

"Okay," he says at last, and you pull your hand away as soon as he begins to move, so you don't do him accidental harm. "It'th done. Thatithfied?"

"I will be once I've ascertained that it functions completely, yes."

"Fuck you, you thweaty nookthtain," Captor says. "It'th better than anyone elthe could do." He lifts his chin defiantly, his lip curled in a sneer. "Tho don't tell me it'th not up to your thtandardth."

You like him better when he's pitiable than when he's detestable. "In that case," you say, "I can think of no compelling reason to endure your company."

He spits something else contemptuous after you as you leave, but you don't allow yourself to listen. It would only make you want to go back in there and do him harm. A proper leader directs his aggression at his opponents, not his own team.

You are the best qualified to lead the blue team; you are certain of that. But you wish rather fervently that you weren't.

Re: Sollux/Equius

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-13 21:23 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Sollux/Equius [OP]

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-16 03:11 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Sollux/Equius

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-16 22:23 (UTC) - Expand

Reposting a misfired comment

(Anonymous) - 2012-04-18 09:59 (UTC) - Expand

repost from the first meme:

Sollux uses his psionics during sex with Feferi. Sensation play, bondage, suspension, whatever works for you, as long as she's having a good time. ♥

Anon, your wish is my command. Hold tight!

"What if..."

Role reversal, coercion, asphyxiation.

An ashen romance is supposed to keep two trolls from hating each other too much. Sometimes things get physical (in various ways) and the auspistice has to jump in.

Vriska and Eridan get a little too black for each other in their ashen relationship. Kanaya ends up in the middle.

Vriska never looks as pretty as she does when she's angry.

You should be doing something right now; your auspistices are exceptionally volatile people, and this situation could go very out of control very quickly. But it's hard to look away, hard to calm her down when her cheeks are flushed cerulean with rage and her hair is bristling around her, as if her rage had given it a life of its own.

"You lying, backstabbing little cheat!" she spits, another in a long line of endearments, directed solely at the cold, calculating face of the seadweller standing barely out of arm's reach. At least, you're pretty sure that cold and calculating is what he's trying for; more often than not the best that Eridan can manage is a sort of half-hearted sneer. Honestly, you think that the fact that he can't quite manage it makes Vriska angrier than anything else he does. "How dare you meddle with my plans?"

You're not sure what happened this time, and usually that would bother you; you like to know what's made your partners unhappy, in order to understand how best to handle the situation. But Vriska and Eridan have clearly passed that point already. You're lucky that you happened to see what was going on; the two of you had probably snuck off to collude with each other behind your back before, if the mysterious scratches you've found on Vriska at times were any indication. You were lucky this time; one of your many sources alerted you to their plans, and you were able to catch up to them before the inevitable happened.

Neither of them have seen you yet; both of them are too focused on each other. You suppose that if anyone is watching, and if you should ever be asked, you could say that your hesitation was only an attempt to ascertain the nature of their argument. It might fool them, if they aren't watching too closely.

"Please," Eridan says. Back to the issue at hand. "Nobody cares about your plans. Not like any of them ever actually work."

"They will work! You've seen my plans in action, you of all people should know that!" For a second she starts to look triumphant again. "Just because you're jealous of my genius doesn't mean you have to tell lies -"

"I'm not lyin and you know it," Eridan shoots back. "You haven't gotten anyfin right lately, have you? Ever since you messed up with that dirtblood loser you've been off a your game -"

"I have never been off my game!" Vriska protests, with a toss of her head. She's lovely now, and furious - you really should make your presence known soon.

"Oh, please. You're a joke, Vris, an everyone knows it. You're a walkin punchline, a blueblood who can't handle her lessers." He takes a tiny, mincing step forward - not enough to put either of them in range of the other, but a clear message of intent. "And here I used to think you were worth somefin."

"I'm worth way more than you are! You couldn't even manage to convince your old moirail that you weren't a total creeper, which is probably why she -"

Okay. That was too far. "Enough," you say, as loudly and as angrily as you can manage, and both of them turn to stare at you. You get a direct look at Vriska's darkened face, at the passion there, and for a second it's easy to imagine that passion in a different context, and - and you're getting distracted again. Bad idea. "You two are not supposed to be here alone."

"Kanaya!" Vriska says, rolling her eyes. "You were asleep! I didn't wanna bother you, okay? Geez, I was being thoughtful for once -"

You'd like to believe that. "I appreciate your generosity," you say dryly, "but I would have preferred that you wait."

"Yeah, because I love waitin for you to finish doin your makeup," Eridan snaps, but the venom isn't in it. You're not sure you can settle this with words. You'll see.

"Well," you say, trying your best to sound angry, "I suppose that there is no reason why the three of us cannot settle this."

Vriska glares back at you, if only for a moment. "Kanaya, please, I keep telling you I've got this!"

"Vris, c'mon. You might as well let her tell you what to do again." Eridan's fingers were twitching in the general direction of his syllabus, but other than that he was making no move. So smug, so confident that he was going to be able to goad her... it wasn't what Kanaya had expected, really. Usually, from everything Kanaya had heard, he was generally the first person to dive across the line. "Just like usual, right?"

That did it - you see it in her stance before she charges, the sudden wildness in her eyes, the gritting of her teeth. Nothing irritates her more than even the implication that she wasn't in control, even when she knows that she isn't.

You hate having to resort to this - half the time it backfires, and occasionally you end up with one of the two trying to talk you into a black fling that you're not interested in. You haven't gone this far with these two, not yet, but you're hoping that you know them well enough that you can keep things from going that far. You've said that before, though. You're not always right.

Well, there's only one way to find out. You reach out as quickly as you can and shove Eridan away, pushing as hard as you can as he's gloating - he's not prepared for it, and he goes sprawling on the dirt. It gets him out of the way of Vriska's charge, at any rate; she's a step or two beyond where he'd been lying before she can skid to a stop and turn to face you - just in time to feel the back of your hand strike her in the face. "I said," you say evenly, "we're going to deal with this."

"I... I...." Vriska's speechless, backing away from you, and you can't claim to be surprised. You've never struck her before, not like that.

"What the fuck, Kan!" Eridan wheezes, and you glance over to see him dragging himself back up, one hand over his stomach. "What do you think you're doin??"

Really, it was as if he'd never been in an proper ashen relationship before. "I am encouraging you to settle this like civilized trolls," you answer smoothly, looking from his enraged glare to her shocked, wide eyes, and vice versa. "I am also making it clear that if you do not, I have no intention of allowing you two to handle this without my interference. I hope that I am making myself clear."

The three of you stand in a tableau, Vriska and Eridan standing on either side of you, glaring at each other still, and at the same time shooting tiny, charged side glares at you - at the person standing between them, the one who's standing and waiting for their next move. It's up to them, you think - if they want to stop this foolishness, you'll stop and stand down. You'll let them talk about this - whatever this is, this time, and you're quite honestly embarrassed that you don't know - and you'll offer advice as best you can. If they'll listen. If they'll both stand down -

Vriska makes the next move too - she practically has to, after what Eridan's said, doesn't she? Or maybe she's just not taking you seriously, and she thinks that you can be brushed aside. Maybe she thinks that being her moirail for as long as you have has clouded your judgement. Maybe she's right, sometimes. This time, though, you push her back - just enough that the fierce slap she was aiming at your cheek is only a glancing swipe. It stings, the feel of her claws against your skin; you aren't going to be surprised if you find out that you'd bleeding, and you're tempted to brush your fingers against your cheek and find out.

You don't have the chance, quite frankly. You've barely managed to push Vriska back when you feel something wrap around your neck and tug hard - you can see the stripes from the corner of your eye, if just barely. Eridan's making a valiant effort to garrote you with his scarf, but the thing's too soft and stretchy to actually make an effective weapon, and the poor bastard doesn't seem to understand the concept of leverage; it's ridiculously easy to plant yourself and pull him around, at least until he gets the idea and lets go.

"Damn it, Kanaya," you hear Vriska gasp from behind you, and duck just in time to avoid another wild swing. "Why are you so meddlesome?" She pushes at you, and that time you feel her claws break the skin on your arm. It's not a deep cut, but it's enough; the pain is sharp and clear and rushes through you, and you feel it, the sudden resolve that you feel when you get into these sorts of fights. The last bit of pity flips over, turns in on itself, and the urge to help her is gone - now you only feel the flat, grey sort of hate that you've felt so many times before, the feeling that you're standing between her and Eridan because you're sick of it, sick of this, sick of her trying to do these things even after you specifically ask her not to meet him behind her back, and by gog you're not going to let them do it.

You wrestle Vriska out of her shirt with very little resistance, while Eridan's the one who rips your skirt away - not literally, thankfully, or you would have had to demand repayment and he's notoriously bad about paying debts. But you and Vriska team up at least to the extent that you manage to get him out of those ridiculous pants (and you indulge Vriska a bit and let her rip a hole in one of the legs before you snatch them away, because really, those things are an offense against good fashion sense.) You're still between them, always between them, always ready to push a swipe aside that happened to be aimed a bit too well, but you've stopped trying to push them apart.

You don't have to separate them anymore; they haven't quite stopped attacking each other, but now they're attacking you just as much, and you're in the middle of a tangle of flailing arms and kicking legs and cool grey skin. Your bodies - now considerably less clothed than before - are all pressing tightly together now, and you're squeezed between them, locked into this ball of mutual hate and feeling something start to build up inside of you as you kiss them in turn, firm nips against their exposed skin. It's not tension, not need - kismesissitude is that need, the mutual rage and concupiscent desire. This is cool and heavy, like a wet blanket over your feelings.

You're all tightly wrapped around each other as the feeling overtakes you completely and the moment begins to fade. You tense slightly as the hatred peaks, then relax as it slowly starts to subside, until your mind is left as cool and barren as a burned-out forest. The others are feeling much the same, if Eridan's muttered curses and Vriska's exasperated sighs are any indication - you know that it has something to do with biofeedback and pheromones and other large scientific words, things you don't quite understand.

You're the first to catch your breath, because you have to be. "Now," you say, "we can... we can settle this."

"Fine," Vriska says, her eyes closing. She looks serene under the moonlight - not sated, but at least stilled. "I get it. I know I stole from you, Eridan. But you had it coming after you stole from me."

"It's not theft if it's mine to begin with," he answers, his voice considerably more irritated than vriska's, and a good deal more exhausted. "I gave it to you in... the first place because you... you said you'd help me."

"Yeah. Whatever." She shakes her head. "I don't feel like dealing with this anymore. I'm just going to give your stupid stuff back."

"Good. You'll get yours when I get mine." He struggles his way out of the jumbled pile of limbs and goes for his pants, and gives Vriska a half-hearted glare for the hole you allowed her to tear in them, but does little else. His legs are wobbly, and he stumbles about when he tries to bend down for his shirt, but after a few tries he manages. "I'll set something up with Kan soon, if that's good enough for you."

He's looking at you as he says it, and you nod. "Soon," you say.

"Yeah. Whatever." He shoulders the shirt and stumbles off, in the general direction of the sea. You hope he'll be all right - you're sure he's armed, because he's always armed, but he's much too proud to stop and rest even though you're equally sure that he needs it. Still, the lingering hate is just enough that you let him go without trying to intervene.

Vriska groans. "Geez," she says, pushing herself up. "I can't believe you followed me!"

You look at her, at the flat calm in her eyes, as you sit up and scrabble for your clothes. You're well out of range of the wardrobifier, and it'll be a relief once you get back to your hive. "What else was I to do?" you answer, looking away. "The fight would have ended much worse for both of you if I had not meddled."

Vriska snorts - it's not the most attractive laugh, but you always find it obnoxiously adorable, all the same. "As if he'd actually hurt me," she says.

You don't answer. Vriska underestimates Eridan on a nightly basis, you think; she refuses to take him seriously, even though their rivalry has progressed far beyond childish games. But there's no convincing her of that. "I'm going home," you say, testing your legs - no serious damage, you're relieved to note. Only a bit of soreness that you're sure will fade soon.

"Gog," Vriska says, "PLEASE tell me you have a transportalizer -"

"Do I look like a fool?" you say, holding the item up. "I do hope you weren't so addled that you forgot yours."

"Addled? Don't be silly!" she snaps, a bit too quickly. "I don't need stupid things like that."

No, you think, sighing in resignation. You never remember such things. Why did I expect this to be different? It's frustrating, how overconfident she can be at times. "I am not allowing you to walk home alone," you say. "Come here."

"Aw, Kanaya," she says with a too-wide grin, "you're the nicest meddlefriend a girl could ask for."

"Yes," you say, shaking your head and setting the transportalizer to her hive. You shouldn't be doing this - she deserves to pay for her decision to leave without a reliable way to get back home, and you have no doubt she can handle the predators on the way - but you can't help yourself. Leaving her behind would be... cruel.

You simply must stop flipping like this, you think as you activate the device. You're really not sure how much longer you can keep track of all of these feelings.

---

Later, when you arrive home, you examine the scratches. You have more wounds than you thought, and so did the others; your skin is slightly smeared with traces of blue and violet, along with splotches of jade green. The clothes stick to your skin in places, and you wince as you pull them free.

You rub the scratches on your face absently - the ones from that first wild swing that you think was aimed at you - and feel... something. It's strange, this feeling - you find yourself remembering how beautiful she was again, when she was so angry. For a strange, discombobulating moment, you find yourself jealous of Eridan, for having ever seen that sort of passion on her face, even if it was a black passion.

Then you shake your head and reach for a bottle of disinfectant, because someone has to be the responsible one, and you suppose it might as well be you. You are, after all, so very good at it.

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

(Anonymous) - 2012-05-01 18:55 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

(Anonymous) - 2012-05-01 19:06 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

(Anonymous) - 2012-05-01 19:59 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

(Anonymous) - 2012-05-01 22:43 (UTC) - Expand

Sexy pirate roleplay -- rum, sodomy, and the lash.

...bonus points for March Eridan.

Reunion fic; Sawtooth comes home after some epic rap battles.

Sibling rivalries collide with the prankster's gambit.

Rough sex and snarling, lisping dirty talk.

Working on it <:

Someone calls Karkat The Shout Master in front of Equius. How completely inappropriate can we get some towels in here?

In which Equius finally gets exactly what he wants and Gamzee has a pretty good time giving it to him.

Gamzee and Nepeta painting each other up -- greasepaint? blood? facepaint, or something full-body? I just want to see them get creative with each other. :33

-SO- going to work on this!

blackrommmmmmmm. post-God Tier for both of them. unleashing all of their powers in an explosion of growly super hot hatesex.

Do you want them using their god tier powers or just doing a sexy lightshow or something like that?

Happy to fill either way, just thought I'd clarify.

OP

(Anonymous) - 2012-06-11 15:44 (UTC) - Expand

AU in which humans and trolls live together in uneasy peace. Dave DJs at a local club downtown. He notices two very distinct persons showing up every night he works.

Bonuses: A three person rapoff, stupid non-ironic fanboying of skills, Dave being pretty overwhelmed by all this troll dick.

Long-distance, dirty chatting. Also possibly involving the brobot being put to uses that it may or may not have been built for.

if I can get a handle on Jake's voice I am *so* doing this.

"Rendezvous Mode," Dirk/Jake, 1/1

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-15 06:26 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Rendezvous Mode," Dirk/Jake, 1/1

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-16 15:35 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Rendezvous Mode," Dirk/Jake, 1/1

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-16 22:24 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Rendezvous Mode," Dirk/Jake, 1/1

tg - 2012-02-22 16:52 (UTC) - Expand

Fabulous makeup, fruity cocktails, science debates...ill-advised makeouts. GO.

Rage vs. Void

...alternatively or subsequently, she gets him drunk and there is epic cuddling.

anon, I should have this done for you in another day or two. It was going to be a short one but holy crap, somehow there are now all the words.

"Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 1/3

(Anonymous) - 2012-03-29 22:20 (UTC) - Expand

"Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 2/3

(Anonymous) - 2012-03-29 22:22 (UTC) - Expand

"Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) - 2012-03-29 22:23 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

(Anonymous) - 2012-03-30 00:15 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) - 2012-04-01 23:51 (UTC) - Expand

Re: "Perchance to Dream" Roxy/Gamzee 3/3

(Anonymous) - 2012-05-22 23:49 (UTC) - Expand

I'd love something very black here - preferably involving Feferi letting some of her Ancestor's coldness show through and punishing the hell out of Eridan after what he did to her.

I forgot to add this. If you want to delete it I'll gladly repost it with the proper warnings!

Red romance and torture - "I only hurt you because I pity you so, love."

'Torment me, my beauty.'

Dualscar counts himself as the greatest of the Empress's attendants, the one who has clawed his way to the front of her line of admirers and will not relinquish his place there for anything. He has the honor - the privlidge - of standing the closest behind her, almost close enough to touch the very edge of her long black hair, although if he were to dare to do such a thing her guard would cut him down in a moment.

It's not enough. The tiny scraps and pieces that she will give him are never enough, but they are enough to keep him following, begging for more. Begging for her to take him, to give him the only affection that she is able to give. Oh, how he pities her for that, for not being able to show a gentle emotion even when she is alone.

'Let me be your sin-eater, Empress mine,' he wants to say as she rakes her claws down his stomach, leaving violet furrows in his slate-grey skin. 'Do what you must do, commit the terrible deeds that you must commit, and then let me suffer for them. I give my pain to you, my Empress, to do with what you will.'

Pain would be better than this horrible isolation, this loneliness. Is it any wonder that he envies his kismesis her red dalliances? Hers might be horribly inappropriate, her blood polluted by lowblooded slaves, but at least she has what he lacks. Her playmates look her in the eye with pity, and even if it is false, it is more than he has ever had.

'Look at me, Empress,' he wishes he could say without fear. 'I am mighty and my blood is pure. I am worthy of you, beautiful Condense. Please, do what you would with me.' But even then she has not yet denigned to notice him; he follows five steps behind, always behind, and she never even looks back. He understands - she cannot show her pity, cannot show weakness in front of even the highest of her subjects. And yet... every time he sees her begin to turn her face towards him, only to sneer and look away, he burns with her pity even more.

He understands that, too.

---

She would only harm Dualscar because she pities him so.

Just look at him. He is tall and proud and fearsome on the seas, and yet he follows her, pining for her like a lost wriggler waiting for the approval of a mother who has already forgotten him. He will not meet her gaze; his violet eyes are forever downcast, forever averting themselves, and no amount of teasing or taunting will make him lift them. He accepts her vilest insults with only a slight darkening of his features, and an almost-imperceptable flutter in his neck-gills, and it drives her utterly mad; the only thing that stops her from claiming him then and there is her sense of propriety, and the knowledge that to her people pity is often a weakness.

He is pathetic, and she dreams of gently laying him down on her claiming-table, of tightening the screws that stretch his elegant limbs akimbo, of smelling the sweet scent of scorched flesh as she brands him. She wants to hear him scream in pain - he does not look like the sort to scream easily, and she wants to coax those cries out of him. She is his mistress, now and forever, and she will ensure that he knows it.

She has tortured those that she hates before, many times. She draws out their torment, giving them no chance to heal until they have gasped their last, but she does not make their deaths quick or easy. But this... this is different. She will hurt him, but she will not destroy him. She will make him suffer, then force him to heal. She will make his blood flow and then let him recover, so that she can cut him again.

Pain will shape him, mold him into a stronger troll. He might be mighty now, but he is not worthy of her. If he lives - if he is able to survive the consequences of his own arrogance long enough that she is able to act - then she will take him. She will make him worthy.

Re: Make You Hurt (Condense♥Dualscar, M, consensual torture (fantasy))

campesino - 2012-03-08 15:21 (UTC) - Expand

I'm talking hard-core pail porn, people. You know it has to be a major fetish. I not being coolkid ironic here, I want you to show us how sexy buckets can be.

I don't care who or when or why, although bonus if it somehow involves the one John and Jade and Davesprite sent to Karkat.

You win the internet, anon. The winner is you.

Re: Bucket kink

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-12 05:37 (UTC) - Expand

[partial fill - limerick] Vriska/Tavros <3<

azurelunatic - 2012-02-16 05:43 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [partial fill - limerick] Vriska/Tavros <3<

cypher - 2012-02-16 15:33 (UTC) - Expand

Re: [partial fill - limerick] Vriska/Tavros <3<

(Anonymous) - 2012-02-16 22:26 (UTC) - Expand

Equius just wants to serve his future Empress.

Teaching glasses how to flirt.

i'm actually working on a roxy/ar fic right now! ...but he already knows how to flirt and is doing a really good job of sweeping her off her feet. http://archiveofourown.org/works/347758 enjoy~

John uses his powers over wind to good effect during sexytimes. Exactly what he does with it is up to you - insubstantial form of bondage, or maybe they use them to actually fly. Use your imagination!

Equius has to do some repairs on Aradia!Bot, and some of them are internal. Bonus points if Aradia is conscious (but not in pain) and knows what is going on.

"Fake Strider" angst

Writing this. Just so you know. :|b

Dirk/Jake

Anyone/Equius

Sollux/Equius

Sollux/Feferi

no subject

Condesce/Helmsman [abuse/violence, noncon]

Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan (ashen)

Fighting Fire With Fire (Vriska/Kanaya/Eridan, M for ashen makeouts.)

Vriska/Eridan

Sawtooth/Squarewave

Bro Strider/John Egbert

Sollux/Karkat

Re: Sollux/Karkat

Equius Zahhak/Karkat Vantas

Gamzee Makara/Equius Zahhak

Gamzee/Nepeta

Re: Gamzee/Nepeta

Aradia/Vriska

Possible writer anon here

Dave Strider/Gamzee Makara/Tavros Nitram

Dirk/Jake

Re: Dirk/Jake

Roxy/March Eridan

Roxy/Gamzee

Re: Roxy/Gamzee

Feferi/Eridan

Re: Feferi/Eridan (abuse trigger)

The Condense/Orphaner Dualscar - possible abuse trigger

Make You Hurt (Condense♥Dualscar, M, consensual torture (fantasy))

Bucket kink

Re: Bucket kink

Feferi/Equius

Roxy/AR

Re: Roxy/AR

John/Karkat

Equius/Aradia!Bot (guro/mechanical)

Auto-Responder/Davesprite

Re: Auto-Responder/Davesprite