Hello dutiful Boifrens followers:
This has been our banner for a while now and frankly it’s starting to freak us the fuck out. Mod bootsie should not be allowed to make aesthetic decisions regarding blog theme at four in the morning. We have learned and are taking precautions to prevent a repeat incident, which is why we’re making this post.
WE NEED A NEW BANNER!
And it would be mighty nifty to use some fan art dontcha think? Perhaps a little friendly competition?
Depending on how many submissions we get, we would like to cycle through winning fan art as our banner and theme! With this comes some promos from the mods and being the first thing on the stupid boifrens page every time someone opens the blog. We may even throw in some bonus prizes like special art or literature by one or more of the mods (tumblr rules are p strict about this stuff so we need to find some loop holes).
So what are we looking for? - your original johnkat fan art, preferably relating to ASB somehow - landscape or banner modeled format - an opportunity to show off some of our followers because you guys are committed as fuck holy shit let us love you
How to submit: upload into the submit box and be sure to tag the work with your URL and some indication that it’s for the contest. Thats all we need.
Contest will close mid August, date TBA depending on how many entries we get. To be honest, the sooner your art is in though, the better your chances are since we will see it in drafts every day leading up to the decision. (If this has a good turn out, we may continue art and fic features in the future, making an extra page on the blog special for them. Last time someone submitted fic, she ended up a mod. We clearly have a soft spot for fan interaction.)
 EDIT: do not give us other people’s unsourced art. We want original stuff, not art theft

Hello dutiful Boifrens followers:

This has been our banner for a while now and frankly it’s starting to freak us the fuck out. Mod bootsie should not be allowed to make aesthetic decisions regarding blog theme at four in the morning. We have learned and are taking precautions to prevent a repeat incident, which is why we’re making this post.

WE NEED A NEW BANNER!

And it would be mighty nifty to use some fan art dontcha think? Perhaps a little friendly competition?

Depending on how many submissions we get, we would like to cycle through winning fan art as our banner and theme! With this comes some promos from the mods and being the first thing on the stupid boifrens page every time someone opens the blog. We may even throw in some bonus prizes like special art or literature by one or more of the mods (tumblr rules are p strict about this stuff so we need to find some loop holes).

So what are we looking for?
- your original johnkat fan art, preferably relating to ASB somehow
- landscape or banner modeled format
- an opportunity to show off some of our followers because you guys are committed as fuck holy shit let us love you

How to submit: upload into the submit box and be sure to tag the work with your URL and some indication that it’s for the contest. Thats all we need.

Contest will close mid August, date TBA depending on how many entries we get. To be honest, the sooner your art is in though, the better your chances are since we will see it in drafts every day leading up to the decision. (If this has a good turn out, we may continue art and fic features in the future, making an extra page on the blog special for them. Last time someone submitted fic, she ended up a mod. We clearly have a soft spot for fan interaction.)

EDIT: do not give us other people’s unsourced art. We want original stuff, not art theft

There’s no objection to the intimacy in the way you touch John’s skin; you love him beyond your natural capacity. You love the way he touches you and the way he breathes your name as he holds you close. The pleasure crests over you in waves as he takes pains to make you feel good, and god, you love him for it. He carries you to the ablutiontrap and cleans you with doting loyalty before leaning you forward against the wet tile and lifting your thigh. He draws another surge of pleasure from you as the hot water runs lukewarm, and bright red floods the drain. You bow so willingly to his beck and call as he presses you against just about every surface he can find, and the only response your brain has the coherency to muster is wrapping your legs around his waist and moaning his name. He takes you again in the hall, still dripping wet, pressed against the door, and you’re practically drunk on the feeling of your bodies pressed so intimately close together. Once scarlet is streaking down through the wood grain, you stumble, fuckdrunk and lusty into the respiteblock where he lays you down on the bed. You pant and whimper softly as John crouches over you, murmuring filial promises of devotion and love as he touches you with deft fingers. You arch beneath him and squirm. Your head is spinning, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the chains of logic aren’t linking up right.

But before you have any real time to question it, his hand is snaking along your crotch again, prodding and fiddling with you to reawaken your junk. Your bulge hasn’t had enough time to retreat back under you bonebulge before his fingers have dragged you back out rather harshly, but it’s so commanding and sexy you can’t possibly object. You run your shaking hands over his ribs and find him just as robbed of breath as yourself. The heir of breath suddenly absent of it. Funny. It is comforting to know he’s just as winded and worn as you, yet you can see the determination in those bright blue eyes of his. You want to see them better, and you quietly take his glasses off. He starts to look at you blankly, like in the general direction of your eyes, and it’s sort of sweet the way he looks almost lost. You forget to notice as soon as his grip on your sore bulge tightens, and he drags another low moan from your chest. Damn he’s good.

He wrangles your reluctant bulge, in spite of its instinct to retreat, and you can’t help but arch into the touch. You have yet to wrap your head around the reasoning behind his incredible stamina, and you’re working through the process of riddling it out when he slips two fingers into your nook, and your thoughts escape all over again. You arch as he pushes his digits in to the knuckle, and the feeling’s not nearly as good as it was the first several times. You’re starting to feel worn out, but he’s persistent, and the pity throbbing in your bloodpusher won’t let you turn him down. He squeezes your bulge and slides his fist around it as he slowly fingers your nook, and your whimper of discomfort breaks into a heady moan.

You think he hears this as his nook-focused hand slows, drawing out slowly and roughly as your genetic material has grown less slick and tackier. You know that trolls and humans both aren’t meant to go at sex time after time consecutively, instead allowing time for your bodies to recharge and rebalance. But he’s so eager to have you, to please you, to love you. Through your foggy whimpers you manage to pathetically whine for more lube, feeling yourself dry up around you. With a firm grip on your bulge he finds his stash and pours it all over his hands and your loins, making a slimy clear mess that you’re starting to get annoyed feeling. The longer you two go at it, the more it turns from a pure night of romance to a low grade porno, but you’d never dream of complaining about all his hard work. He’s smiling at you and trying to look seductive with his limited vision, and your pity spills over.

You give him a tired smile and shuffle your hips, tentatively parting your thighs for him, and the look of adoration he gives you makes it mostly better. Squinting slightly, he takes your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and guiding them back until your wrists press against your spread wings. You sigh contentedly as he presses his lips to the side of your neck, murmuring words of love and praise as he pushes his hips forward into the crux of your groin. You breathe a shuddering sigh of relief when he doesn’t push up into your nook, but instead ruts against you. The surface level friction sparks along the underside of your bulge and it takes a little extra coaxing before it twines lazily around his shaft, loose coils and a looser grip.

You hear him shutter and you squeeze his hands affectionately, rubbing your head against his as he keeps pushing his hips. The friction between you just barely registers, your bulge being more squished by his weigh than rubbed by his thrusting. When you realize he’s not going to move on, you shake free and hand and dive your hand in between your hips and grab your twisted members. You hiss as your own dry hand chafes your now painfully throbbing bulge, but you manage to get your hand around his head, rubbing it between your fingers. The lube helps you roll his slit under your fingertip, and he is an earthquake above you, shivering from the feeling. You smile and assault him with hums and sighs, hoping to drive him closer and cloud him in pleasure so you can get a sort of breather.

Every quiet breath that hitches in your ear is a flighty murmur of your name, or a plea, or a reaffirmation of love, and while it was endearing in the early throes, it’s starting to sound strange. The way he pants your name, scattered among a steady stream of “I love you”s makes your tired mind swim as you roll the head of his cock in your artificially slicked grip. It’s almost as if he thinks you don’t believe him when he tells you he loves you, and he needs to repeat it over and over so you know. You let your head lay back and try not to think too hard on it; you’re far too gone for this kind of cognition anyway. Instead you concentrate on your twined sexes, paying more attention to his than your own, but offering up heady groans to keep him convinced you are enjoying it.

Soon enough he’s practically seizing, so on the cusp that you jerk harder to end it. He’s groaning out your name so loud it’s echoing, and you kiss his ear to try and lull him. It’s not all bad for you as your hand slickens up enough to stop rubbing your bulge raw, and the familiar comfort on stroking makes you genuinely chirp and contract around his dick. Finally he spills over you, squirting out onto your chests and smearing his seed between you. You wait until he can catch his breath and form words again before you kiss his mouth, holding him with your lips to pronounce your pity.

He leans into you and sighs into the crook of your neck as you slip your fingertips through his hair and along the curve of his skull. You can feel the slamming of John’s bloodpusher against your chest and you breathe in his scent; the pungent musk of fresh fuck, laced with sweat and humming with pheromones. You stay like that, close and content for who knows how long, and you’re sure he’s finally had his fill. You swallow hard and move your lips to his temple and he whimpers a soft, needy keen as he angles for your jaw. You were hoping he would finally be spent, but the throbbing you can feel pressed to your groin tells you otherwise. He whispers again how much he loves you and asks if you need more lube. Biting your lip you nod if only because you can’t refuse him. You try not to flinch as he pours a generous slick onto his fingers and slips them into your nook again. You gasp and do your best to cover it up with a strained groan as he repeats the action. Relief only comes as he removes his fingers from your overused nook in order to slick his hardening member.

You root your way into the sheets for another round, getting a twinge in your back where you’ve laid on your wings for too long. As he’s readying himself you scoot back to the pillows and prop yourself, wanting to at least find some comfort. He sneaks a peek at you and you give him your best loving smile, hoping with his glasses off he doesn’t see your fatigue. Or maybe you do, seeing as you’ve been growing ever increasingly tired. But he smiles back and climbs to get you, wrapping his arms around your chest and covering your abdomen in smooches. It’s sweet, but the glitter is wearing off and sleep is calling your name. He is too as he shoves himself into you again, and your body lazily clenches against the invasion. But you fist the sheets and give him a show, knowing his head’s in a good place, even if his head is in a sore place.

You groan for him and toss your head as he rolls his hips into you. Your bulge winds itself into a lazy knot and stays there as John makes use of your tender nook. You do your best to disguise your flinches as eager bucks and your whimpers as wanton moans, and you can’t tell whether to be relieved or dismayed that he believes it. Your spine bows as his arms snake around your middle and he gives you a tug, slowly, carefully lifting you to sit up in his lap. You slump against him and bury your nose in the crook of his neck as he thrusts upwards past your tired clenching and into the oversensitive depths of your nook. You don’t have it in you to protest so you go along with it, shakily rocking your hips with his and groaning against his throat.

Exhaustion is coming for you and John keeps humping into you, pounding deep into your nook to the point of pain. You gather enough strength to fold your legs under you to hold your hips up, giving him enough room not to over-stuff. You are tired but not unconscious and his jabbing is sure to lead to bleeding if given the chance. You can feel your eyes start to water and you try to wipe them away quickly, choking back a wet sob and hoping it sounds enough like a warble of lust to pass. You can feel yourself excruciatingly build up and you lean back you head to dramatically pant his name, even matching him in thrusts to hurry this along. He’s smiling and singing your praises into your neck, and you can’t help but dig your nails into his shoulders as you dryly release, clutching onto him as waves of hot, stinging pleasure rock through you.

You heave a soft cry as he jerks his hips up ardently and you feel him wet your nook for the umpteenth time. A groan of exhaustion rattles its way up from the pit of your lungs and dies on your lips as you fold heavy in his arms. He coddles you and coos amorously in your ear as he leans you back delicately, mindful of your wings and spent body as he shuffles you and the sheets around. You’re at least grateful for his attention as he slips under the covers with you, reminding you again how much he loves you. You croak out a response to return the sentiment, your throat almost as raw from overuse as your nook. He pets the side of your head and curls up close to you, sharing your warmth while giving you space to breath. Letting your eyes fall shut, you concentrate on the sound of his breathing, only daring to open an eye once it’s gone completely steady. Your body unclenches slightly with relief but slowly worry starts to trickle into your thinkpan like a creeping, nagging feeling that there was something very wrong with what just happened.

HES DIFFERENT. NEEDY ISN’T THE RIGHT WORD.
MAYBE POSSESSIVE…DEMANDING?
I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

OVERWHELMING.
AND MAYBE A LITTLE SCARY.

—- —- —-

Written with the help of special guest author pleasedontstealmysoul.

You don’t even wait for Karkat’s pants to come fully off before you move in to him again. You can’t stand it; your mouth aches to be on his skin. He makes soft gasps as you crouch down to your knees and start to work your way up his thighs, kissing, sucking, slowly pushing them apart. He quivers slightly, and you think he knows what you intend. Karkat makes a little, embarrassed chirp of excitement as you slowly creep your way closer to his groin. He spreads his legs eagerly and you just about go to pieces at the sight of him; his bulge unsheathed and knotting itself wantonly, his nook already glistening with scarlet.
Without a second thought you lick his coiled sex over and take in its girth, closing you lips around him as his flavor floods your mouth. He’s wriggling around you, so you place your hands lovingly but firmly on his legs, begging him to contain himself. You’d rather not choke on him right off the bat, because anything ruining or even putting this on hold would just about fuck you up. It’d been too long and you can’t get enough fast enough.
Karkat whimpers, you swallow, and he practically squirms, but you hold him fast. Your name is on his lips, and your hair is in his fingers. He grips you a little roughly and you moan around him; you love the way he tugs your hair. You gulp and bob your head and, god you can’t get enough of his taste, his scent, his fingers in your hair. But it isn’t all selfish. God no. You want nothing more than to make Karkat happy, to make him feel good. You will do anything for him, give up anything, bend over backwards just to see him smile. The fact that you can get what you want while he gets what he wants is just another benefit of your relationship.
When he’s good and sated you switch, dragging him out of your mouth with a pop and quickly go at your next assignment. His nook is leaking, actually oozing onto the table and you can’t help but smile. It really turns you on knowing he’s been wanting this too, having worked up enough genetic material to drip for you. You lap him up and sloppily kiss his nook, swirling your tongue inside him to lick him out. He’s practically screeching your name and his bulge is smearing into your glasses. You take a free hand to hold him back, stroking off his second sex to satisfy it.
Karkat’s thighs tremble on either side of your face as you lap at his nook, sucking at the flushed folds, and pushing your tongue in again. With a whimper of your name, he lifts his knees and hooks them over your shoulders, locking you in place and pulling you in a bit closer. You couldn’t be happier to oblige, teasing ragged breaths and needy keens from him with your tongue. You love the way with every movement of your mouth, Karkat clenches around you, like he’s afraid the feeling will leave. You groan into his nook with your nose buried in the base of his bulge, translucent red running down your lips and chin. His fingertips tremble against your scalp and he hiccups out a broken warning that he’s close, and it’s just about the only sound you ever wanted to hear.
You’re licking the roof of his nook just how he likes, twisting the tip of his bulge in between your fingers when his voice hits its top octave. His fingers grip your roots tight enough you think he might rip out chunks, but it’s worth it as he’s crying out your name in that desperately needy tone, pleading you to finish him off. You churn your tongue roughly in him and squeeze his bulge a little more and he’s off, head and back arching backward as he bursts in your mouth and hand.
You swallow what you can, but you also revel in the flood streaming down your chin and throat. It’s a little filthy, but you kind of enjoy that. You take your time drawing away, sloppily licking up his slit and thighs as he trembles and breathes your name in husky pants. You love the way it sounds, and you make sure Karkat knows that. You tease him a little as you wipe your mouth on your forearm. You like the way he flushes a dusty red and fidgets. You tell him you’re far from finished with him, and he perks up slightly, stumbling over heady breaths as he tells you he wants you, and wants to make you happy. You swallow and bow forward, sucking on his sheath slightly in an attempt to coax him out to play again.
While you busy yourself with warming him back up, you push your hand into your own pants, wrapping your digits around your dick. You’d been getting hard teasing and pleasing Karkat, and it was your turn to get a little attention. Of course you do this quietly and don’t draw attention to yourself just yet, wanting to get Karkat nice and sexdrunk before you really go at him. While you’re trailing kisses and nips along his groin, you mutter how much you’ve missed him, missed this, and how you can’t wait to mess around all night. He seems to like this, petting your head playfully and occasionally scratching your scalp and ears.
You nip experimentally at his cartilage sheath, and he warbles soft and sweet in the back of his throat and just that sound nearly drives you out of your head. You can just taste the tip of Karkat’s bulge starting to peak out again, and you flick it with your tongue as you stroke your own cock, eagerly pressing your thumb to the slit. You moan softly and seal your lips around the exposed nub, suckling it gently to coax it further. Your ears strain to hear Karkat’s quiet panting as you draw him out all over again, slowly but surely, until he’s completely unsheathed. Karkat’s bulge winds lazily around itself, but you leave it alone for the time being. You slowly rise to your feet, kissing your way up Karkat’s belly as you bring your hips level to his.
You slowly start to shimmy the waist of you pants down, and he catches on quick. Karkat scoots to the edge of the table, leaning into you and slamming his lips to yours. You happily slip him your tongue, and together you wrestle inside your mouths, tasting each other as you get your pants around your thighs. He drapes his arms around your shoulders to hold onto you, and you break apart long enough to guide your head to his moist slit. You hold his hips and gently tug, pulling him enough to force your first inch inside his clenching nook.
He squeals like a virgin at first, but all his balking quickly dissolves into lusty moans as you slowly push in. Shuddering and clutching you tightly, Karkat grips your hips with his thighs, breathing your name against the shell of your ear as you push in as deep as you can reach, wary of his physical limits. You don’t mind what little is exposed; your number one priority is pleasing Karkat. You whisper to him that you love him, you’ll do anything he asks, and he whispers back for you to move, adding in the stipulation that you be gentle. You abide with every ounce of your being. You shift your hips carefully and he groans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, cheeks warm and flushed. You want to worship him with your body, and you kiss his jaw as you push in, drawing out another sharp keen.
With his own fluids as lube you glide in and out of him, careful not to push too hard but fighting back the urge to plunge in. You can hear a satisfying squelch between his legs as you fill him up time and time again, groaning Karakt’s name as he wonderfully squeezes you. His body’s wrapped around you and holding on for dear life, and you quick love the idea. You even hike up one of his legs to get a better angle, humping him into the table.
He grips you tight and you grip him tighter as your name makes a home for itself on his lips. He’s loud. Every aspect of Karkat has always been loud, but you appreciate it now more than ever. Whimpering, he gives you a gruff plea for more and you provide it with enthusiasm. Your pace picks up and your thrusts are met with ragged expletives and cries of pleasure. He clings to you, like you’re his last tether to reality and you smile broadly. Affection swells in your chest, and you can feel your heart beating against your sternum, and you match your hips to the steady rhythm.
You now have a hand on his hips and your other on his shoulder, holding him in place as you propel him back and forth, rocking your bodies hard enough to make the counter squeak. You can see behind him that his wings are fluttering sporadically, unsure of what their job was in this whole thing. It’s so sweet and you smile as you lean your forehead to his and watch his expressions. He’s squeezing his eyes shut and breathing hard, pushing out a breathy whine in time with you. But with this symphony of noises building up around you, your thrusts become stronger and you drink up his whines and moans, adding in your own. You can feel it building up in you and you don’t want to stop just yet, but slowly you start to wane in your rhythm and slip into desperate thrusts, hoping to get him off again before you cum.
Karkat pants raggedly into the shallow space between you, and you squeeze his hip with your fingertips. He bucks into you and your moan pitches into something you weren’t quite ready to identify as a squeal. You start off stumbling over your words as you try and let him know you’re close, but he cuts you off with a breathy “me too” and you bite your lip. You watch him as his face twists in pleasure and you finally submit to the will of your body. Release crashes down your spine like a crack of lightning, and you shake in his hold as you empty into Karkat. He clutches at you with his claws, lurches, and bows in your arms as a hot wave of fluid splashes against your hips.

It’s so hot and wet and amazing that you don’t really know what to do about it but hang onto him and let him wash over you, dripping down your legs and around the table. You both clutch on as your climaxes rock through you, but as muscles relax he becomes limp around you, and you lazily lean on him until he’s lying flat. You sluggishly press your lips into his neck, thanking him and professing your love again and again and you listen to his breathing return to normal. This was a great first round, and you can’t wait to wash up and relocate. Hell, you might get both at the same time.
—- —- —-
Written with the help of special guest author pleasedontstealmysoul.

You don’t even wait for Karkat’s pants to come fully off before you move in to him again. You can’t stand it; your mouth aches to be on his skin. He makes soft gasps as you crouch down to your knees and start to work your way up his thighs, kissing, sucking, slowly pushing them apart. He quivers slightly, and you think he knows what you intend. Karkat makes a little, embarrassed chirp of excitement as you slowly creep your way closer to his groin. He spreads his legs eagerly and you just about go to pieces at the sight of him; his bulge unsheathed and knotting itself wantonly, his nook already glistening with scarlet.

Without a second thought you lick his coiled sex over and take in its girth, closing you lips around him as his flavor floods your mouth. He’s wriggling around you, so you place your hands lovingly but firmly on his legs, begging him to contain himself. You’d rather not choke on him right off the bat, because anything ruining or even putting this on hold would just about fuck you up. It’d been too long and you can’t get enough fast enough.

Karkat whimpers, you swallow, and he practically squirms, but you hold him fast. Your name is on his lips, and your hair is in his fingers. He grips you a little roughly and you moan around him; you love the way he tugs your hair. You gulp and bob your head and, god you can’t get enough of his taste, his scent, his fingers in your hair. But it isn’t all selfish. God no. You want nothing more than to make Karkat happy, to make him feel good. You will do anything for him, give up anything, bend over backwards just to see him smile. The fact that you can get what you want while he gets what he wants is just another benefit of your relationship.

When he’s good and sated you switch, dragging him out of your mouth with a pop and quickly go at your next assignment. His nook is leaking, actually oozing onto the table and you can’t help but smile. It really turns you on knowing he’s been wanting this too, having worked up enough genetic material to drip for you. You lap him up and sloppily kiss his nook, swirling your tongue inside him to lick him out. He’s practically screeching your name and his bulge is smearing into your glasses. You take a free hand to hold him back, stroking off his second sex to satisfy it.

Karkat’s thighs tremble on either side of your face as you lap at his nook, sucking at the flushed folds, and pushing your tongue in again. With a whimper of your name, he lifts his knees and hooks them over your shoulders, locking you in place and pulling you in a bit closer. You couldn’t be happier to oblige, teasing ragged breaths and needy keens from him with your tongue. You love the way with every movement of your mouth, Karkat clenches around you, like he’s afraid the feeling will leave. You groan into his nook with your nose buried in the base of his bulge, translucent red running down your lips and chin. His fingertips tremble against your scalp and he hiccups out a broken warning that he’s close, and it’s just about the only sound you ever wanted to hear.

You’re licking the roof of his nook just how he likes, twisting the tip of his bulge in between your fingers when his voice hits its top octave. His fingers grip your roots tight enough you think he might rip out chunks, but it’s worth it as he’s crying out your name in that desperately needy tone, pleading you to finish him off. You churn your tongue roughly in him and squeeze his bulge a little more and he’s off, head and back arching backward as he bursts in your mouth and hand.

You swallow what you can, but you also revel in the flood streaming down your chin and throat. It’s a little filthy, but you kind of enjoy that. You take your time drawing away, sloppily licking up his slit and thighs as he trembles and breathes your name in husky pants. You love the way it sounds, and you make sure Karkat knows that. You tease him a little as you wipe your mouth on your forearm. You like the way he flushes a dusty red and fidgets. You tell him you’re far from finished with him, and he perks up slightly, stumbling over heady breaths as he tells you he wants you, and wants to make you happy. You swallow and bow forward, sucking on his sheath slightly in an attempt to coax him out to play again.

While you busy yourself with warming him back up, you push your hand into your own pants, wrapping your digits around your dick. You’d been getting hard teasing and pleasing Karkat, and it was your turn to get a little attention. Of course you do this quietly and don’t draw attention to yourself just yet, wanting to get Karkat nice and sexdrunk before you really go at him. While you’re trailing kisses and nips along his groin, you mutter how much you’ve missed him, missed this, and how you can’t wait to mess around all night. He seems to like this, petting your head playfully and occasionally scratching your scalp and ears.

You nip experimentally at his cartilage sheath, and he warbles soft and sweet in the back of his throat and just that sound nearly drives you out of your head. You can just taste the tip of Karkat’s bulge starting to peak out again, and you flick it with your tongue as you stroke your own cock, eagerly pressing your thumb to the slit. You moan softly and seal your lips around the exposed nub, suckling it gently to coax it further. Your ears strain to hear Karkat’s quiet panting as you draw him out all over again, slowly but surely, until he’s completely unsheathed. Karkat’s bulge winds lazily around itself, but you leave it alone for the time being. You slowly rise to your feet, kissing your way up Karkat’s belly as you bring your hips level to his.

You slowly start to shimmy the waist of you pants down, and he catches on quick. Karkat scoots to the edge of the table, leaning into you and slamming his lips to yours. You happily slip him your tongue, and together you wrestle inside your mouths, tasting each other as you get your pants around your thighs. He drapes his arms around your shoulders to hold onto you, and you break apart long enough to guide your head to his moist slit. You hold his hips and gently tug, pulling him enough to force your first inch inside his clenching nook.

He squeals like a virgin at first, but all his balking quickly dissolves into lusty moans as you slowly push in. Shuddering and clutching you tightly, Karkat grips your hips with his thighs, breathing your name against the shell of your ear as you push in as deep as you can reach, wary of his physical limits. You don’t mind what little is exposed; your number one priority is pleasing Karkat. You whisper to him that you love him, you’ll do anything he asks, and he whispers back for you to move, adding in the stipulation that you be gentle. You abide with every ounce of your being. You shift your hips carefully and he groans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, cheeks warm and flushed. You want to worship him with your body, and you kiss his jaw as you push in, drawing out another sharp keen.

With his own fluids as lube you glide in and out of him, careful not to push too hard but fighting back the urge to plunge in. You can hear a satisfying squelch between his legs as you fill him up time and time again, groaning Karakt’s name as he wonderfully squeezes you. His body’s wrapped around you and holding on for dear life, and you quick love the idea. You even hike up one of his legs to get a better angle, humping him into the table.

He grips you tight and you grip him tighter as your name makes a home for itself on his lips. He’s loud. Every aspect of Karkat has always been loud, but you appreciate it now more than ever. Whimpering, he gives you a gruff plea for more and you provide it with enthusiasm. Your pace picks up and your thrusts are met with ragged expletives and cries of pleasure. He clings to you, like you’re his last tether to reality and you smile broadly. Affection swells in your chest, and you can feel your heart beating against your sternum, and you match your hips to the steady rhythm.

You now have a hand on his hips and your other on his shoulder, holding him in place as you propel him back and forth, rocking your bodies hard enough to make the counter squeak. You can see behind him that his wings are fluttering sporadically, unsure of what their job was in this whole thing. It’s so sweet and you smile as you lean your forehead to his and watch his expressions. He’s squeezing his eyes shut and breathing hard, pushing out a breathy whine in time with you. But with this symphony of noises building up around you, your thrusts become stronger and you drink up his whines and moans, adding in your own. You can feel it building up in you and you don’t want to stop just yet, but slowly you start to wane in your rhythm and slip into desperate thrusts, hoping to get him off again before you cum.

Karkat pants raggedly into the shallow space between you, and you squeeze his hip with your fingertips. He bucks into you and your moan pitches into something you weren’t quite ready to identify as a squeal. You start off stumbling over your words as you try and let him know you’re close, but he cuts you off with a breathy “me too” and you bite your lip. You watch him as his face twists in pleasure and you finally submit to the will of your body. Release crashes down your spine like a crack of lightning, and you shake in his hold as you empty into Karkat. He clutches at you with his claws, lurches, and bows in your arms as a hot wave of fluid splashes against your hips.

It’s so hot and wet and amazing that you don’t really know what to do about it but hang onto him and let him wash over you, dripping down your legs and around the table. You both clutch on as your climaxes rock through you, but as muscles relax he becomes limp around you, and you lazily lean on him until he’s lying flat. You sluggishly press your lips into his neck, thanking him and professing your love again and again and you listen to his breathing return to normal. This was a great first round, and you can’t wait to wash up and relocate. Hell, you might get both at the same time.

—- —- —-

Written with the help of special guest author pleasedontstealmysoul.

Anonymous asked:

Does mod have a deviantart

{{mod bootsie has a very embaressing deviantart @ blindbandit642. honestly if you just want to see art, check out the tumblr tag “bootsie’s art tag”

mod stelera has devientart @ stelera and generally tags her art just as “art” and her writing as “writing” or “stelera writes”}}

I don’t care about routine. I just want to feel Karkat breathing.

It started off slowly. You barely even noticed anything was different—you were just kissing your boyfriend, after all. You missed Karkat. You missed kissing him. It feels so good to finally have that liberty again; maybe you get a little carried away, but he always smiles and kisses you back. He deserves to be happy. He deserves so much to be loved, and you’ll do anything in your power to make him feel that way. You smooch him first thing in the morning, and you steal pecks from him in the halls. You kiss his jaw while he’s making dinner, and you bump noses when he tries to tell you it’s no big deal. You don’t think you’ve ever been happier than when you’re kissing Karkat. After watching him suffer for so long, it makes your heart soar just to see him smile.

Even thinking about the past drives you to blur it out with more affection, coming up behind him and holding him by his waist between those beautiful wings. Bright translucent red, those wings are your new favorite things about him, a constant reminder of his rebirth and revival. You love the way he flutters them at you as you squeeze him and bury your face into his neck. You know Karkat normally hates public affection, but it difficult to help. You’re good at this, and you weren’t too much help before, so with this second chance you’re not going to mess this up by half-assedly doting on him. Days pass and your devotion hardly wavers, and more now you remember to vocalize and remind him of your fidelity. You whisper little “I love you”s in between lulls in your day to day, making sure he’s aware of your constant presence.

God. It’s so good to have Karkat in your arms again—to feel him warm and breathing in your hold, his smooth, thick skin under your lips. You can barely get enough. You pepper him with loving kisses at every opportunity; you remind him that you love him and that you’ll do right by him this time. He smiles softly into an airy kiss, cheeks ruddy and eyes closed. You promise to treat him well with your mouth against the sharp edge of his jaw, and a soft rumble of contentment hums in his chest. Threading your fingers with Karkat’s, you knit yourself with him as he backs up to the wall, wings spread flat as you press yourself to him. He gasps softly as your lips dance along the curve of his neck, and your heart flutters with excitement. You seal your lips against the side of his throat and you can feel Karkat arch upwards as a warbling moan shudders up from his core.

You quickly look around and are delighted to discover you two are alone. Through the soft breaths of your troll you can’t hear anyone else, not even footsteps. The place is temporarily deserted. Perfect. Quickly you switch gears and dig your teeth into his neck, sucking and chewing at his throat as he moans in your mouth.

You gnaw his skin between your front teeth, working up a deeply flushed spot on the side of his neck. It’s been months since you were remotely this physically intimate together, and any marks you may have left before have long since faded. Now Karkat is a clean slate, a blank canvas for you to paint with hickies all over again. You don’t stop at one, either. Once you’ve worked up a muted bruise, you relocate your mouth and restart the process. All the while Karkat squeezes your hands in his own, spine bowing towards you and head tipping back, giving you ample room to work.

With your body pressing firmly into his, you revel in the fact that having Kar back is amazing. His healthy, tangible body in your grasp, a body you can lavish and ravish. As you’re teething his throat, you think, “I can’t get enough of him.” You release a hand to grip his hip, hoisting up his leg to wrap around your hip. You hope to start the ball rolling and see if he’ll catch on.

Karkat’s free hand stays glued to the wall as if by magnetic force, at least for a moment. He tilts his head just enough to get his lips at the tip of your ear. Liberated fingers twitch slightly before they reach for the slope of the back of your neck, smoothing upwards and plunging into your hair. Groaning heavily, Karkat shifts his hips and pulls you just a little closer. You practically whimper into the crook of his neck, abandoning his other hand to hoist his other leg up and around your waist. He’s so eager to reciprocate. Karkat’s arms and legs are around you in no time and you find yourself at a loss for priorities other than pleasing your lover. You don’t care about routine; you just want to feel Karkat breathing… breathing your name as you lavish him with physical affection.

He’s practically weightless in your hold and you bite harder to make sure he’s real. Karkat stays solid and whines playfully in your ear, making your chest swell. You are so into it you start to grind your body into his, crushing him into the wall, but it still doesn’t feel close enough. You groan into his neck that he should consider relocating, not able to guarantee you won’t be walked in on. Your shared pad is a hop skip and a jump away, and would be worth it to have plenty of space to play in, away from other eyes and ears.

Nodding vigorously, Karkat nudges his way under your jaw, grazing his pointed teeth carefully along your pulse. You swallow hard and grip him tight; hot, humid breath spurring you on as Karkat pants softly against your jugular. Whimpering quietly, he squeezes you as you pull him away from the wall, his massive wings flutter and fall like silk banners, folding loosely against his back and trailing all the way down to the floor. You shuffle to keep from treading on them, quickly realizing the fastest and easiest route from the common area to your shared home is as the heir flies. You kick up dust with your heels, lifting just high enough off the ground to keep Karkat’s wings from dragging. Tucking him against you, you take the back route around the central plaza, away from the more frequently trafficked areas, and slip in the back door.

written with the help of special guest author pleasedontstealmysoul.

GORGEOUS ISN’T THE WORD ID USE.
ABNORMALLY FUCKING HUGE IS MORE ACCURATE.

—- —- —-

You’re still not used to the wings yet. They’re big and heavy and a pain in your ass. If they were half as light as they looked, you wouldn’t have any trouble with them at all, but they weigh about six pounds each and having an extra twenty four pounds of deadweight sprouting from your back isn’t exactly how you wanted to go about the rest of your life. Not only are they heavy, but they are fucking gargantuan. You have met umpteen failed iterations of every pan-addled troll the whole churning mass of paradox space had the combined audacity and gall to muster. Not a single one of the ones who went god tier has a wingspan which even comes close to comparing to yours. Your wings even trump the shit out of Tavros’s dead descendant ancestor whateverthefuck that guy was, and he wasn’t even fucking god tier.

As such your day-to-day life has become an unnecessary battle with your own god damn fluttersilks. First thing in the morning you have to stretch them, because no matter how you sleep, they’re always, ALWAYS sore and stiff like you slept on them wrong. Next you have to shower, which involves washing them, which has presented a whole new world of hassles. If John wasn’t around to actually lather them for you, you’re not sure you’d be able to reach most of them yourself. You have to keep them spread afterwards so they dry properly. You have devised clever new ways to go about passing through doorways previously only known to Nitrams. You have shattered pre-game heirlooms, spilled drinks, cleared tables, and knocked countless pictures off the walls with your enormous back-flaps, and your swath of destruction doesn’t look like it will be narrowing anytime soon.

You’re doing your best to keep a level head about all this. In the end, as much as you hate them, John consistently insists he loves your wings, so they can’t be that bad…

You weren’t gone very long. Maybe an hour or two. Rose has been trying to coax you gradually back into your schoolwork, but you’ve spent so long in a grief-stricken haze of melancholy and apathy that the process of learning how to function again is slow and arduous. You don’t mind so much that she’s trying to pull you back to a world of work; a bit of normalcy is actually a sigh of relief after the world of anxiety you’ve inhabited for so long. What bothers you is that it takes you away from Karkat.

It’s not that you’re clingy or needy or anything… well, maybe you are just a little if you’re being entirely honest, but that’s not why it upsets you. After what you went through—after what HE went through—you’re a bit paranoid about relapse. You don’t know if ascending to god tier completely cured his illness, or if it only patched up what killed him and sent him on his merry way. You keep thinking to yourself, what if he still isn’t cured. How long until he’s sick again? Would it be another twenty something years? A month? Was he already starting to decline and just couldn’t feel it yet? You don’t know! And not knowing is fucking scary, okay? You try not to think about it as best you can, and in some respects starting to pick up on your schooling again helped your anxieties, but by the time you get back home all you want to do is make sure Karkat is still okay.

Everything’s quiet when you get home, and that bothers you a little. It hasn’t been this quiet since Karkat came back. He’s usually watching a movie or puttering about with cooking or laundry or SOMETHING. He used to do an awful lot of complaining that he didn’t have enough to keep his hands busy while you were gone, so you had gotten used to him taking care of things for the most part. This silence though… It’s eerie, and your anxiety is starting to whisper memories of pain and anguish directly into your thought sphere. You have to find him quick.

Your worries only compound as you check each room down the hall for him. He’s not in the bathroom. He could be in pain. He’s not in the study. What if Karkat is hurt and scared without you? He’s not in the computer lab. He’s dying without you all over again! It’s all your fault! You let him die alone and in pain! You failed him! You let him suffer! Selfish! Cruel! Failure! Your fault!

Panic squeezes your throat shut as you practically full-body-check the last door in the hall. There’s no response. You cling to the maddening hope that you did something wrong. It’s been a few hours. He’s just mad at you! You did leave him, after all…

You rip the door from its hinges with a harrowing gust that sends a metallic screech echoing down the hallway. You howl into the room like a gale, as if by moving quickly you could maybe undo everything, turn back time. Your eyes burn—a feeling you’ve become too familiar with—when you find Karkat’s body outlined by sheets. You’re at his side in an instant. You clutch him. Cradle him the way you should have weeks ago. Months ago. You sob his name, an empty plea of desperation. Your world is a vertiginous torrent of anguish and loathing and you’re getting dizzy enough to make yourself completely sick with grief. Everything comes to a screaming halt with a smart slap across your cheek.

Your mind blanks.

Your mind blanks so long the void in your thought aches. Your synapses all jump to their metaphorical feet at once when Karkat practically shouts at you. He was taking a nap. A fucking… nap. You physically buckle into his lap as the weight of your wrought nerves finally breaks you down into a trembling heap. You sob. You’re a miserable wretch and the only words you can shape with your lips are blubbering pleas for forgiveness.

You. You are so sorry. You couldn’t…

He holds you tenderly and does his best to console you, but everything hurts and you’re so hysterical you can’t just calm down. God. You’re a fucking wreck. Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you do this to HIM? You’re the absolute worst. You are so fucking sorry.

—- —- —-

I NEVER WANTED THIS FOR HIM.
THIS IS WORSE THAN ME DYING.