bunny, 27, queer, she/they. sideblog of sneezehq for Killing Stalking, omo, and my various other kinks. also my blog for anything too dark or weird to go on my other blogs. No sexual interactions please! Writes occasionally. requests are open! check my what i'll write page for more details. check me out on AO3 and fanfiction.net. and here's my ko-fi ;). check out the “my writing tag” for my fics!
Journal of a Man of Letters wishes you a very Happy Valentine’s Day. May someone give you their heart and if no one does, we still have one for you waiting in the fridge. ♥
another ronance smut prompt for you if you’d like to write it! no pressure if not!!
but literally just robin with a strap
OK, this one's sort of a cheat, because a while back, @crushcandles sent me an ask about exploring the D/s dynamic in Ronance, and I started working on a PWP that did just that, which happened to involve Robin wearing a strap. Then couldn't quite decide how to finish it, and I kind of lost steam. So when I got this ask, I decided to use it as an opportunity to finish that fic. Two birds with one stone, I guess? Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Explicit sex behind the cut. Strap-on sex, including a woman's strap-on being referred to as her "cock." A little bit of reflection on gender and biphobia. D/s, orgasm denial or at least control to some extent, overstimulation. I dunno, there's a lot of sex in this one.
By the time Nancy climbs on top of her, Robin is already desperate. The slide of Nancy’s thighs as she sinks down onto Robin’s strap is smooth as silk, and her weight, slight though she is, adds a tantalizing pressure as the base of the toy pushes against her.
Robin lets go of the strap as Nancy settles herself, circling her hips experimentally with a gratified sigh. Before Robin can even roll her hips, Nancy is lifting up again and sliding back down, fucking herself on Robin’s cock.
There was a time, once, when Robin might have hesitated to call it that. She’s known her share of women who don’t think of things that way, who might, even, consider such a turn of phrase a sort of betrayal. She’s known plenty of women, too, who would be insecure if their girlfriend—especially a girlfriend who used to date men, who was maybe a little too eager to see Eyes Wide Shut because she still hasn’t gotten over her adolescent crush on Tom Cruise—liked getting fucked this way, but Robin loves it.
She loves looking up at Nancy above her, at her small, soft breasts bouncing as she rides Robin’s cock. She loves, too, the way she can put her hands on Nancy’s hips and feel her moving, see her muscles flex under her pale skin. The sight of Nancy slipping a slender hand through her dark thatch of pubic hair to touch her clit is one Robin thinks she could watch forever. She loves how she can feel it when Nancy is about to come, her thighs starting to tremble as she bears down on the pleasure pooling in her hips. Nancy’s curls fall wild around her when she throws her head back, and Robin would have to be an idiot to pass on such a luxury, to say nothing of the lean column of her neck, her wet and parting lips. And perhaps most of all, she loves feeling Nancy use her for her own gratification, the way she won’t stop until she’s satisfied and there’s nothing Robin can do but keep giving it to her.
Still shivering from her orgasm, breath hectic in her chest, Nancy leans down to capture Robin’s lips in a kiss. “You feel so good inside me,” she says. “If you fuck me just right, sweetheart, maybe I’ll let you come, too.”
A moan punches out of Robin, her cunt clenching hard between her legs. Nancy licks into Robin’s open mouth, a teasing flick of her tongue that makes Robin’s hips buck. Nancy is so wicked like this, all cruel mischief and selfish self-gratification—dangling what Robin wants right in front of her, always holding it just out of reach.
“Do you want to come tonight?” Nancy murmurs, lips still close enough that Robin can almost taste another kiss.
Robin groans and nods her head.
Nancy draws back enough so that Robin can see her smirk. “Do you think you can do it?” She circles her hips again to remind Robin of the pressure of the strap—close to her clit but not quite near enough to get her off. “Can you fuck me well enough to earn it?”
“Uh-huh,” Robin moans, so desperate for her—to make her happy, to make her come, to take whatever Nancy will give her.
“All right, then,” Nancy says. She leans in close, so that their bodies are almost flush, and presses Robin’s wrists to the mattress, which sends a hot flush of need through Robin from scalp to toes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The rhythm Nancy sets this time is punishingly fast, fucking herself on Robin’s cock as quick as she can. Robin rises to meet her, snapping her hips hard enough to make Nancy cry out. Robin is drenched in sweat within moments, the muscles in her belly shaking with the effort of keeping up with Nancy’s pace. But, god, the sight of her when Robin fucks her is worth it. Even if Nancy decides she doesn’t deserve to come tonight, it’ll be everything Robin needs just to watch her like this. She’s so serious, chasing her orgasm like she pursues anything she wants—recklessly, relentlessly, without hesitation. And the stunned pleasure that breaks across her face as Robin grinds her cock into her just right is so gratifying. Robin did that to her. Robin can give her what she needs.
Robin wants to get her hands on Nancy, but Nancy’s grip is firm on Robin’s wrists. The moment she tries to lift an arm, Nancy redoubles the pressure against the mattress. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
The question makes Robin groan, cunt clenching between her braced legs. She does want to be good for Nancy, always, always, but, god, she also wants to come.
“Tell me,” Nancy says, rocking herself rough and shallow to meet Robin’s thrusts. “Tell me what you want.”
Right now, it’s all Robin can do to breathe. Talking—let alone in full sentences—feels like asking too much. But it’s Nancy who’s asking, so she tries to focus. “Wanna fuck you till you can’t stop coming.” She’s not even sure that makes sense, but Nancy moans above her and kisses her encouragingly.
“What else?” she gasps.
Robin can tell from the breathless note in Nancy’s voice that she’s close again. She’s letting the close clench of their bodies help her along, rubbing herself off against Robin’s hips, and it makes Robin weak to feel Nancy using her like that. Robin likes to be of use.
“What else,” Nancy asks sharply, and, fuck, Robin was supposed to be talking.
“Wanna make you come,” she hurries to say, tongue-tied with lust. “Wanna give you what you want, all of it, till you can’t take it anymore. Wanna taste it on you, how good you feel, how well I made you come.”
Nancy comes with a shout, the way she used to be self-conscious about, and Robin loves it, loves her loud and unrestrained, loves the wild tremor that shakes her so hard she dislodges herself from the strap. She keeps rocking, though, pressing her hips against Robin’s leg, her belly until her orgasm finally recedes.
“Oh, fuck,” Nancy says, when she finally catches her breath. She lets up her grip on Robin’s wrists and immediately Robin wraps her arms around Nancy’s waist, holding her close. “That was so good,” she says, catching Robin’s lips for another kiss. “You were so good for me.”
Robin whines against her, and then gasps as Nancy’s thigh catches her dripping cunt.
“Is that what you want?” Nancy asks, pressing harder so that Robin quakes. It’s not going to take much to get her off. If Nancy just stays where she is, Robin’s pretty sure she can get enough friction to tip herself over the edge.
“Nance, please,” she begs. Nancy likes it when she does that.
“Is it?” Too late, Robin hears the mischief in Nancy’s voice. “Because I thought you said you wanted to taste me.”
Nancy slips her thigh from between Robin’s legs and Robin lets her head drop back on the pillow in despair.
“Well?” Nancy asks, impatiently, though she’s smiling down at Robin with that wicked smirk of hers.
“I do,” Robin croaks.
“Do you want it more than you want to come? You can only have one.”
The ultimatum makes Robin’s hips jerk, and she thrashes her head on the pillow for a moment, because it’s either that or come unraveled.
“Which do you want more?” Nancy asks, and as she speaks, she reaches down to take hold of the strap, which is still slick from inside her. She pumps her fist up and down, and this time the angle is just right so the base of the strap rubs against Robin’s clit.
Robin’s toes clench, and her thighs strain to lift her hips into the pressure. She could come like this, she can feel it, Nancy jerking her off with slow, steady pulls to her cock.
“Is all you care about getting off,” Nancy continues, in that deliciously judgmental tone of hers, “or do you want to do what you promised you would do and eat me out?”
Robin groans, pushing her hips up into the sweet pressure of the strap one last time before she says, “I wanna taste you.”
“Good girl,” Nancy says, and lets go of the strap. It bobs, forgotten, as Nancy climbs up Robin’s body to straddle her face.
Robin moans into the dark between Nancy’s thighs. She’s so wet against Robin’s tongue, the taste of her so rich and thick. It doesn’t matter if Robin never gets to come again, she thinks feverishly, not if she gets to do this for Nancy. She’d wait forever, it Nancy asked her to.
“Hands on my thighs,” Nancy says in a warning tone. “I don’t want you trying to touch yourself while I can’t see.”
Robin wouldn’t, but she puts her hands on Nancy’s thighs anyway. She loves the flex of Nancy’s muscles under her fingers, the way it lets her pull her in closer. Nancy rides her face fast, fingers working furiously on her overstimulated clit. Robin’s head spins, her hips rocking in time with Nancy’s, her forgotten cunt throbbing below her bouncing cock.
It doesn’t take long before Nancy’s coming on Robin’s tongue, her thighs shaking against Robin’s ears. Even once she’s come, Nancy keeps rubbing her clit, drawing her pleasure out a little longer. Robin revels in the knowledge that Nancy is as loathe to let this end as she is.
When at last she climbs off Robin’s face, Robin shivers at the sudden chill of the cool air meeting the spit and slick that’s smeared across her face and throat. It makes her feel filthy in the most delicious way, debauched for Nancy’s eyes only. She closes her eyes and breathes in Nancy’s heady scent, licks Nancy’s wetness from her lips. She loves being covered in her, loves the thought of waking up tomorrow and still being able to smell traces of Nancy on her skin.
“I love seeing you this way,” Nancy says from somewhere too far away. “And you love it, too, don’t you?”
Dazed with desire, too exhausted to give a coherent answer, Robin nods.
“Do you want to show me?”
Curious, Robin cracks her eyes open to find Nancy sitting down by her feet, watching her fondly. “Hm?” she manages to ask.
Nancy smiles, and runs a hand up Robin’s leg. Even just that light touch feels exquisite, in the state Robin’s in, makes her tremble with a much more intimate touch might. “Do you want to show me how good I make you feel?”
Of course Robin wants to, she wants to give Nancy everything she can, but she doesn’t really understand what Nancy is asking her to do. The trailing touch of Nancy’s fingers on her calf is so good, she almost wants to cry. When she tries to ask, all that comes out is a whine.
“Will you make yourself come for me, sweetheart?” Nancy asks, more pointedly. “Can you do that?”
Robin blinks, head spinning. “But . . . ?”
Nancy leans down and drops a delicate kiss on the side of Robin’s knee. “I changed my mind,” she says. “You were so good for me, I think you deserve it. But you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
Robin wants to sob. She wants to come, has been desperate for it all night, but she’s so tired now that all she can think about is curling up beside Nancy and falling asleep.
“Can you do that for me?” Nancy asks, almost wheedling.
Robin nods. With stiff fingers, she loosens the harness just enough that the strap slaps against her thigh. When she slips her hand between her legs, she can’t help but moans at how wet she is. Her vulva is sensitive from the pressure of the strap, but the ache is good.
“Legs open,” Nancy insists. “I want to see you.”
Her thighs burn as she draws her legs up and out, exposing the hot core of herself to the open air. She can feel Nancy looking at her, and that’s almost as good as a touch. She imagines it like a wave lapping against her as she rubs her clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” Nancy says admiringly. “I don’t think it’ll take you long to come, at all.”
Robin quickens her pace, wanting that to be true.
“You were so good for me tonight,” Nancy says, and Robin shakes. “Only thinking about what I needed, always putting me first. You fuck me so well, sweetheart, you’re so good to me.”
Robin feels herself flush all over, her legs shaking. “Nancy,” she gasps. “Please.”
“Are you going to come?”
Her hips are shaking, her breath frantic in her chest, but she can’t feel it, the closing of that circle inside her that means she’s close. She whines urgently, tossing her head against the pillow. She pressed harder against her clit, willing her aching arm to move faster, fuck herself better. Nancy wants her to come, she has to give it to her.
“What if I told you to stop?” Nancy asks abruptly.
It takes her a moment to understand what Nancy’s asking, but the moment she does, she takes her hands off herself and lies there trembling.
“You’d stop just like that?” Nancy asks. “Go to bed right now and not touch yourself again until I said you could?”
“Anything,” Robin breathes, not even knowing what she means. “Anything, anything, please, just make me.”
Nancy must take pity on her then, because the next moment, there’s a shifting weight on the mattress, and two fingers slip inside her. She cries out, writhing as Nancy fucks her. She tries to raise her hips to rock back into Nancy’s touch, but at this point it’s all she can do to brace herself for it, let it happen.
Nancy fucks her rough and insistent and Robin can feel herself unraveling, the circle inside her tightening at last. The shaking in her is beyond her control, and when Nancy crooks her fingers inside her, crooning to her, calling Robin her sweet girl and telling her how good she’s been, how of course she deserves this, Robin cries out and comes so hard her calf cramps.
“Sweetheart,” Nancy murmurs as she eases Robin down onto the sweat-damp mattress.
She’s crying, she realizes, in amidst her sobbing breaths. “Love you,” she gasps. It feels essential to say it right now. It’s maybe the only thing she knows in this moment, when her whole body is pushed to its limit. She wraps her trembling arms around Nancy’s neck.
Nancy holds her close until she’s still again, and then a little longer after that.
The worst thing filmmaker’s ever did was decide that because it’s called “Dracula” it must be because it’s about the actual guy Dracula and his melancholic woes and alluring world of darkness and seduction and not the fact that every single character in the book hates him. Every single worker he comes across cusses him out and tells him he’s ugly and his vibes are rancid. Jonathan Harker wants to chop him up with a machete Quincy wants to shoot him so bad Renfield wants to crush his windpipe Van Helsing and Seward and Arthur and Mina and everyone else want him dead by impalement and decapitation. It’s called “Dracula” because every single character wants a piece of that bastard.
So fun fact: At some point in my life I got it into my head I wanted to make a Highly Ambitious Sci-Fi Simulation Murder Mystery Game, where all the characters in it were fully simulated and had their little simulated goals and ANY of them could have done it and it was up to you to piece together the clues they’d naturally leave behind in the wake of their nefarious deeds to decide who actually had the means and opportunity as you slowly realized EVERYONE present had motive.
Obviously, it would be a riff on Murder on the Orient Express, but that’s not important.
But, when I realized that I wanted to have a SINGLE person be the target of all that aggression, I realized in my heart of hearts that person had to be Dracula.
And BOY did the plot of the game write itself out at that point. So many various reasons people could want this bastard dead.
Ultimately, the ambitiousness of the simulation was its undoing: I wasn’t yet in a point in my programmer skill tree where I knew how to properly debug AI, so it ended up unfinished (and for a platform I no longer have access to, alas).
HOWEVER let me leave you with my very favorite bug:
Because I needed lots of reasons for characters to be constantly moving around and not just holing up in their space-train cars, they had various bodily needs, like hunger and thirst and the need to go to the bathroom, you know, normal things.
Imagine my horror and delight when I was running a test game to figure out why Dracula kept Not Getting Murdered only to discover he was *LOCKING HIMSELF IN THE BATHROOM AND PISSING ETERNALLY*.
Turns out I had a bug where you just...wouldn’t stop.
I ALSO had a bug with the locking mechanism and people could let themselves IN but not out, so eventually the entire cast ended up there in the Infinite Piss room, unable to leave, and unwilling to murder because of all the witnesses.
Hell is real and its a buggy simulation game.
[Image Description: Art of four people, each with black hair, and pink skeletons showing through their orange-red flesh. The people are contorted into odd shapes, with their bones occasionally bending. End ID.]
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