At the Penteverall, Occtis Tachonis dreams of the time that his family had sent their most expendable child to ride with Royce's Wild Hunt, only he cannot seem to remember whether he was the child or the fox charging through the twilit forest.
All the sundered houses are incredibly dangerous and I think Royce at the height of their power were equally so. Here's an exploration of how that danger could have manifested through Occtis' childhood eyes. Yes, Julien Davinos does make a sex joke and yes Aranessa is a little terrifying. Please come and play in the space with me
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 7/7
Fandom: The Freak Circus (Visual Novel)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Pierrot (The Freak Circus)/Reader, Pierrot (The Freak Circus)/You, Harlequin (The Freak Circus)/You, Doctor (The Freak Circus)/You, Jester (The Freak Circus)/You, Ticket Taker (The Freak Circus)/You, Jester (The Freak Circus)/Reader, Harlequin (The Freak Circus)/Reader, Ticket Taker (The Freak Circus)/Reader, Doctor (The Freak Circus)/Reader
Additional Tags: Threesome, Transmasculine Reader-Insert, Yandere Pierrot (The Freak Circus), Yandere Harlequin (The Freak Circus), Top Harlequin (The Freak Circus), Oral Sex, Knotting, Monsterfucking | Teratophilia, look i dont know what they look like under there but i got some ideas, Dubious Consent, Hypnotism, Needles, Medical Kink, Medical Experimentation, Poly Circus, Come Marking, Biting, Biting Kink, Predator/Prey, Degradation, Verbal Degradation, Dirty Talk, Claws, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Wound Fucking, Wound Care, Restraints, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Come Inflation, Size Difference, Size Kink, Monster Uses Reader Like A Fleshlight, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Mildly Dubious Consent
Summary:
A request from my TFC Lurker Anon over on Tumblr: how would MC handle all of the Freaks at Freak Circus. "Like how our life would be in a relationship with all five. Maybe even traveling with them becoming a permanent part of the circus?" And how we'd handle them in other ways, of course. I have a smut Tumblr, no one's gonna be shocked when I write smut right?
Chimney watches as Eddie relaxes when she joins his side, and the two sit down with the rest of themâHen closest to Maddie, Eddie next to Chim.
As Maddie draws in another breath, moving her hand down to rub Buck's shoulder, Chimney realizes how hard it is to bring himself to say more.
So the silence stretches for another moment, filling the space where their fear once was.
Not to say there's none nowâit just⊠feels smaller, next to all of them.
"Are you alright now Buck?" Hen breaches, and Chimney lets out a breath.
Ilya was playing right wing to Shaneâs center on the first line. He had been looking forward to this since it was announced. For the first time in seven years of playing professional hockey and being invited to All-Stars Weekend, he was finally on the same team as Shane. On the same line. Even if he had to move to right wing, they were still playing together.
Before they had gone out onto the ice, Shane had given a speech about having fun and winning. It was a pretty trite speech, if Ilya was honest, but it was the excitement that drew him in. The shine of exhilaration in Shaneâs eyes as he talked about getting on the ice. The way he boosted everyoneâs confidence by talking stats and opportunity, but what Ilya saw was the elation each player had on their face because they got to play on the same team as Shane Hollander. Like they had to impress him and do their best because they had been chosen to play with him. This might be the highlight of some of these playerâs careers. He hyped up the guys in a vastly different way than Ilya usually did â he liked lots of swear words and chirping â but it was effective because everyone headed out of the locker room with grins on their faces.
There was something nice about playing with Shane Hollander. A calmness and an assurance that when he looked over, Shane would be there waiting to get the puck. Over the years, Ilya had envisioned playing with Shane many times. Sometimes he used it as a daydream for when he needed to go to sleep and couldnât. Sometimes he imagined it while he watched Shane play and how his linemates fumbled to keep up with him. Sometimes he even thought about it when he was jerking off. Because there was something so satisfying about thinking about them tape to tape passing while he was bringing himself pleasure.
Heâd wanted this so bad for so long. Now that the opportunity was here, he should be relishing it, savoring it, lavishing in it. Who knew the next time it would happen. If it ever happened again.
Shane won the initial face-off, and he was off with the puck. Ilya stayed near him, keeping up with him in a way heâd only gotten to picture in his head.
No one had ever kept up with him like this, but it was like Shane knew what Ilya was going to do before Ilya knew.
He figured it would be a little weird. Heâd be sluggish from his awful night, but the moment Shane looked to his right, found Ilya there, and smiled at him, it was like Ilya found a hidden trove of energy. He was zipping down the ice, all exhaustion exercised from his body. Shaneâs smile was laced in exhilaration. Any hesitation or fear was replaced by the euphoria of it just being them and the ice, their sticks, and the puck as they kept up with each other, racing toward the net.
Ilya always knew that Shane could keep up with him. They were always fighting for the puck when they were against one another, but now that they were on the same side, they were playing a completely separate game where it was just the two of them against the world.
Shane was right where Ilya needed him. He didnât have to slow down or change up his method. Shane was where he was supposed to be. And Ilya was right beside him.
They had been at the top together for such a long time, battling it out for awards, for first draft, for first place, but maybe they were always supposed to be there together. Making their way up to the very peak of the tallest point of the mountain and building something everlasting. Something that was entirely their own â a dynasty that would be talked about for decades.
Shane slid the puck toward Ilya for the first shot of the game. The shot he took was at an odd angle and was easily blocked by the goalie, the Finnish one Shane had been talking to at breakfast and who Ilya had talked to once about Canadaâs drinking water of all things.
When they skated down to the other end of the ice to switch lines, Shane said, âNice try.â There wasnât a hint of sarcasm or disdain. There wasnât the hatred Ilya thought he fully deserved.
He even flashed Ilya a gentle smile. Just a hint of his lips upturned into something private and only for Ilya.
Shane grabbed his water bottle before they were due back on the ice and sat down at the far end of the bench, chugging it.
Ilya followed him, forgetting about his own water bottle despite the sweat pouring from him. There were a few guys around them, but they were focused on the game. The cheering from the stands echoed all around them. He thought he heard a few people throw out his name, but he only had eyes for Shane.
âIâm sorry,â Ilya muttered, hoping Shane could hear him over the loud cheering.
Shaneâs eyes found his before turning back to the ice. âIt was just a missed shot. No big deal.â
Ilya sat down heavily beside him and lowered his voice even more. Mike Brophy was sitting almost right behind him, although he was watching the game intently and Eddie Muran sat a little ways down the bench alternating between chugging a Gatorade and a water.
âI shouldâve been more careful. I shouldâveââ
âIlya, I get it. You donâtââ
âI canât stop thinking about it,â Ilya admitted. âAbout whatââ
âHey man, itâs just a missed goal,â Brophy said putting his hands on both of their shoulders. He was giving them an encouraging smile. Shane ducked his head on the pretense of taking another sip of water, but Ilya noticed the nervous darting of his eyes. âDonât be so hard on yourself, Rozanov. There will be another chance.â
Ilya shook Brophy off and hoped that the heat blossoming on his cheeks was assumed to be from the exertion of the game.
âDid you have any water?â Shane asked once Brophy had knocked their helmets together and hurried over the boards as the third line went out.
âNo.â
Shane pressed his water bottle into Ilyaâs thigh and offered up an encouraging smile. He had been so caring during Ilyaâs rut and not just in a sexual way. Heâd tidied, and cleaned up the mess Ilya left behind, especially with the picture Ilya had knocked from the wall. Heâd cuddled with Ilya and brought him electrolytes to stay hydrated. It was the most caring anyone had been to him in a very long time. And Ilya wanted it to last forever. Now he was offering him water and a gentle smile as if to say, âitâs okay, I got you.â
Why was Ilya willing to give Shane up?
Why wasnât he trying harder to keep this fragile beautiful thing alive between them?
There were a million reasons to push Shane away, to let him go, but there was just one reason to say âyesâ and fight for what he wanted. To choose who he wanted.
Ilya smiled back and took the offered water bottle. When Shane passed it over, Ilya made sure to touch his gloved fingers over Shaneâs. He looked away, his cheeks brighter than ripe cherries and Ilya knew it wasnât from the game.
All those years ago when they were in the hotel gym after the draft and Ilya had handed his own water bottle to Shane, he had almost the same exact look on his face.
How could Ilya have ever thought he was done with Shane Hollander? How could he have thought that he was going to move on? Shane was his future. He was his past. And he was his present.
Shane really had ruined Ilya, and heâd ruined him years and years ago. Ilya was just too slow to realize it. Until now.
âFirst line, get ready,â Coach called out.
âYou good?â Shane asked popping in his mouthguard. It shouldnât have been as sexy as Ilya found it, but he couldnât tear his eyes away from the way Shaneâs teeth found the grooves in the protective plastic. Ilya carefully set the water bottle down and followed him. He was always going to follow him, wasnât he?
âYes,â Ilya said, and he meant it in more ways than one.
idk if u write for trans readers or not!!! but could u maybe write poly!lost boys with an alternative ftm reader ?? (if u don't see them as poly, i wouldn't mind it being just a david x ftm reader ^_^) i don't have a specific plot in mind đđ
I hope itâs okay that I chose to slip it into two different fics
hereâs the ftm hcs
the alt reader will be next but I have sleep to sleep. But if you still want ftm alt reader i can write a David x reader one shot but I would like to hear if you come up with a plot or something since my brain is kinda fried rn ngl
i'm wrangling my crit role fandom tags tonight, as a little treat for people trying to navigate my ocean of crit role fics. the numbers may look different but no works are being edited or deleted, only tags are changing
Chapters: 9/9
Fandom: League of Legends
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Malcolm Graves/Twisted Fate
Characters: Malcolm Graves (League of Legends), Twisted Fate
Additional Tags: Horror, Perceptual Distortions, Hallucinations, Established Relationship, Implied Past Suicidal Ideation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Arguing, Past Starvation, Bright moments amidst the horrors, Body Horror, Suicide, Minor Character Death, imagery of drowning, Claustrophobia, Cannibalism, (Don't Worry About It), Animal Death, Sex, Frottage
Summary:
Graves thought he knew prisons.
He'd survived the Locker and the enduring scars it left. He could deal with it easily.
