First things first, this is a side blog our main is @chara--system
@im-seeing-stars is where we post our nudes if youre at all interested in that
we use he/it and all neos collectively
have so so fucking many introjects
name is a play on the canus venatici constellation and the star in it named cor corali
pfp is a screenshot of simplyfir from his Mario Odyssey escape room video and banner is another screenshot of him from his Legends ZA 100% (can you tell we like Fir yet)
yeah anyway
MINORS DNI
if you do not have your age or something confirming you are an adult on your blog you will be blocked!!!!!
feel free to send us asks about horny shit, look below the cut for like vague attempt at boundaries
A detail about Ren I really love is Headcannoning him with a knot or full out dog dick which in my opinion makes the most sense. But I'm more focused on the knot really cause what I do know about it is that trying to separate really hurts both parties- but like- has anyone ever considered just, denying it happening?
I've mostly had the thought of Ren going into a rut and Martyn is helping as he does, but like, Ren's always so desperate during ruts willing to do anything if he just phrases it correctly. But maybe Maryn wants to do more than just look pretty (even if he's really good at looking pretty) and gets a devious idea cause Ren's always mumbling about knotting him so what if he just, didn't allow it. Riding Ren while facing him so that he could actually see the reaction holding his hands pinned above his head instructing him to not move nothing exactly new until Ren was clearly close and he simply just didn't sink down all the way, still stimulating but not letting Ren knot him.
The thing is it's not like anything ruined for any of them but Ren would be near into tears cause it was so mean Martyn was so mean to him not letting him knot him and lock all his cum inside and do it properly it was so cruel and he hated him for it
Maybe not the smartest move to pull when he wasn't in the right state of mind. Afterwards however? Maybe Ren will get just a little bit shy and ask Martyn to do it again, really talk him up to it before denying it last second and by god he hates it, everytime he hates it cause it feels wrong, but not wrong enough for him to get put off cause he does like being called pathetic, especially when Martyn says it all coated with honey and sweet things like it's the best thing he's ever done
i always forget this is a nsfw blog rather than a generalised complaining blog so here. My Gemtho Pornography that i wrote ages ago and subsequently scrapped for parts for other fics:
(the context for this is that etho's been gay his whole life but a flipped bit in the server code has made him straight)
“Etho?” she says, like that’s a whole question of its own.
He can’t say anything—especially not when she shifts, just the tiniest bit, and the movement makes his body react instinctively. He freezes as soon as he realises what he’s doing, but it’s too late: his crotch meets her thigh, and the world comes to a halt.
Gem looks at him with wide eyes, then glances down at his boner, then back up at him. Somehow, her eyes look even wider, then, like a baby deer’s. They’re the most amazing shade of deep green, and the fan of her thick eyelashes is deeply distracting. When he looks down at her lips—like petals, he thinks, insanely—he watches as she catches the bottom one between her teeth.
“Gem,” he says. Because that’s all he’s got.
Slowly, moving like he’s a wild animal she’s scared of chasing off, Gem anchors a hand on his shoulder and grinds down against him.
The contact is electric. Etho jolts helplessly into it, one arm coming up to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, make the contact more.
“Gem,” he says again, already out of breath, feeling completely crazy.
“Etho.” Her hands scrabble against his chest, his collar, trying to find the best place to hold on as he moves her against him, getting harder as the heat of her body sends sparks through his. Her fingers find the edge of his mask. “Can I?”
He nods, and she doesn’t wait a second before pulling the black fabric down and dragging him into a deep kiss.
It’s nothing like kissing a man. Her face is so smooth and petite, and there’s something distinctively girlish in the plush of her lips. She licks into his mouth and sighs against him, and the noise is unmistakably feminine and for some reason that alone makes it hot. It occurs to him wildly that if he doesn’t get her into bed this instant, he might actually just die. Or come in his pants. One of the two, for sure.
She gasps when he grips her thighs and picks her up off the ground, but she gets the picture, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling his mouth back to hers.
“Do you want to fuck me?” she says, her wet lips dragging against his. He just nods, because he definitely can’t articulate just how much his body needs him to do exactly that.
She directs him to the nearest building in the fishing town that has a half-decent bed in it even as she’s pulling her own shirt off, and he drops her onto the sheets without any flourish. Looking at her, panting and a little sweaty and definitely, definitely not a man, he honestly can’t really remember why he had never been interested in women before. Because look at her. Framed by her bra, her chest heaves up and down with every breath, and she gazes up at him with those big, deer-like eyes of hers.
“Thought you wanted to do more than just stare, Etho,” she says.
And yeah. Crazily, he does.
He knees onto the bed and makes light work of the rest of both of their clothes. Experimentally, he touches one of her breasts—because women have breasts—and runs his thumb over the peak of her nipple. The skin is kind of alarmingly soft, and she shivers under the touch. When he hesitates to go further, she grabs his hand with a sly grin and pulls it to her—to her pussy.
She’s swollen and wet, and silky soft, and any thought Etho might’ve had about needing lube flies out of his mind as she presses his fingers to her slit. When he slips his middle one into her, it meets no resistance at all.
Gem whimpers softly as he drags his rough finger in and out of her, and adds another when it seems like she’s ready. Honestly, it seems like she could handle all of him right away—it’s Gem, Etho’s certain she could handle anything—but he finds himself wanting to take his time with it. Drag it out. Every tiny sound she makes, every twitch of her body, the way her pussy clenches around his fingers, sends fresh waves of arousal through him. He wants her. Simple as that: he just wants.
So, on impulse, he bends down and, with his fingers still curling inside her, brings his mouth to her slit and licks.
The reaction is instantaneous; she jerks in his hands and turns her face into the sheets as a reedy moan stutters out of her, and her pussy tightens around him as she—orgasms? Probably orgasms. Is this what it’s like when a woman does that? He keeps his fingers moving, rocking them into her slowly, coaxing her through it and back down again, just like Pause always liked.
“That looked—” he starts, and stops, not sure how to describe it. “Was that okay?” he asks.
Gem shoots him a wild look. “Is that a real question?” she says, and props herself up to reach for his hard cock, giving it a couple of motivated strokes. “Come on, let’s see what you can do with this. I want you to ram the soul out of my body.”
That startles a surprised laugh out of Etho, but honestly? Sounds pretty good to him. He manoeuvres up the bed so he’s braced over her and guides his cock to bump against her entrance, dragging it against her slit to get it wet. She shudders and breathes out a thin whine as he finally slides in.
She parts around him easily, letting him all the way in until his head bumps her—her cer… vix? He guesses? She jerks and grips him when he does—like perfect haptic feedback telling him okay, careful, that’s sensitive.
Slowly, he rolls his hips, drawing almost all the way out and thrusting deliberately back in. At least this bit is basically the same no matter what shape of body you’re doing it with. Gem, for her part, makes it easy to tell what’s working and what’s not. He tries speeding up, but finds she’s not nearly as into it as when he goes slow and hard, grinding their hips together as he bottoms out. She shakes like she’s experiencing an earthquake high up on the Richter scale when he does that, and her hand snakes down between them to knead her clit. When she brings herself off—purposefully, expertly—it’s not just the feeling of her clenching tightly around him that sends him over the edge too. It’s her face, scrunched up with pleasure, and above all else the high, girlish noises she makes that go straight to his groin and have him tensing up and shooting into her.
He waits for regret—for clarity—to come to him when he pulls out. An oh man, what the heck did I do that for? But it doesn’t arrive. He leans back on the bed and his eyes rake over the pale curves of her body and all he feels is confused satisfaction and a pleasant, post-orgasmic stupor.
“Here,” Gem says, reaching over the side of the bed to pluck his mask off the floor. “It’s weird seeing you without it.”
“Thanks,” he says, and pulls it back on. It’s weird being seen without it.
“This is going to sound crazy—” Gem turns to him even as she’s still catching her breath. “But I really thought you didn’t like girls.”
“Um,” Etho says, and doesn’t really know how to go on. Because she’s right. He didn’t. And there’s really no nice way to say I think the fact I wanted to do this with you at all means there’s something really wrong with me.
“Really!” she goes on. “Like, I didn’t think you ever even looked at me. It was always Beef, and Bdubs.”
Now that’s enough to kick him out of post-orgasmic stupor.
“That’s not—” he starts. “I mean, I don’t—”
Don’t what? Don’t like guys? Maybe he doesn’t anymore, but saying it would still feel like a big lie, considering.
But Gem’s looking at him like she expects his sentence to have an ending.
“I’m… straight?” he ends up going for. That, at least, is true.
“Etho, I know you know what bisexuality is,” she says flatly.
He frowns. “Obviously I know about. Um. Bisexuals,” he says. “But I’m not one.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, I…” He crosses his arms around his chest, and forces himself to look at her. “Gem, something happened to me, a couple of days ago.”
It takes a lot of explaining to get her to actually understand what he’s saying, but he tries to get the whole story out. All the way from noticing False that day in the shopping district, to the night before, trying to—well, he hadn’t said jerk off in so many words, but he’d got the point across.
“I think you might be over-complicating it,” Gem tells him, clearly trying to sound gentle. “People change. Sexuality’s fluid. Sometimes you just go through weird periods.”
Etho shakes his head, increasingly more worked up, and says, “I’m not overcomplicating it at all. My whole life, until a week ago, I liked men. Now, I like women. No overlap, no both, no complication. Gem, I was—I was gay.”
He snaps his mouth shut as soon as he says it; the words had tumbled out of him so quickly, so breathlessly that he hadn’t even had time to register what he was saying until it was already out there. But it’s… the first time he’s ever said it out loud. To anyone. He’d always denied it to Pause and even in his own head, he tried to avoid thinking it like that would make it any less real.
“And now I’m not,” he adds. Kind of an anti-climax.
I LOVE being a slut. I’m writing a paper with my tits out and I’ll go to lab today wearing my cute little lacy top on under my clothes. I keep playing with my teats too, I hope if I do it enough they’ll start leaking milk… on a totally unrelated note I think I should get a cow tag earring
Joe's voice makes Martyn perk up from where he's playing his Gamecube. He does need to obey and all that.
Truth be told–okay, it all started when Martyn just had the most massive crush on Cleo. Confessed. Got told that Joe's part of the package, and, at first, the two of them were amiable–first base was Sonic Riders, and then second base was, okay, yeah, they might've started feeling each other up, might've made out, and Joe pulled Martyn's hair and, yeah, yeah, he really liked it.
So.
Things are here, now.
Martyn doesn't remember what third base was, but this is home run, he supposes.
Joe's academic kink, he means. Martyn pulling out his plug, hiking up his skirt, slipping down his too-tight boy shorts, sitting on Joe's lap bare-assed, his half-hard cock guided up into him. Putting the box on the kitchen table.
"Okay, okay, let's see, here..." Joe says, reaching around Martyn, clicking open the box with a key. It's got a slot for inserting papers inside, a slanted lid, dark stained wood. It's pretty.
Also happens to be where Martyn's required to deposit all his sexual fantasies.
"Clenching already?" Joe asks. "Dude, we've, like, barely started."
Oh, fuck, was he? "It's embarassing..." Martyn whines.
Joe leans against Martyn's back, chuckles in his ear. "I'm pretty sure, like, everything you're into is embarrassing for you. Surprised you haven't gotten used to it by now!"
Martyn squirms on Joe's lap. The drip of his caged cock down his thighs is downright filthy.
"So... okay. Martyn. I'm already seeing that there's only, what, ten-ish in here? That's far less than your goal. What's your goal?"
The patronizing that'll only get worse from here. Damnit. "Uh, thirty-five."
"Thirty-five, that's right. This is showing to me already that you have not been edged nearly enough. Martyn, you <em>know</em> Cleo and I love it when you're needy and desperate to cum, and this is not reflecting that in the slightest! If they weren't grading papers right now–"
"Actually, I'm done," Cleo says from the doorway. "Was just having fun watching."
"Ah, okay." Joe nods.
They continue. "But, no, you're right. Martyn hasn't been edged enough. Not at all last week, right?"
This twisting feeling inside Martyn's tummy. "We–we've all been busy–"
"Not an excuse," Cleo says. Sits down at the table. "Say, there's only a few dirty thoughts here... Joe, you think we could edge him for each one?"
About ten edgings is a lot of edgings. Martyn's asshole flutters around the cock inside.
Fingers guiding him backwards, his back into Joe's chest. "Yeah, I like the sounds'a that!"
Shuffle of papers, and then, Cleo sighing, saying, "Martyn, you didn't even put your name on this one. I'm not counting it."
Because he has to <em>name and date</em> each one. "Wait, hey, wait–"
They continue. "Okay, first actual one, from Tuesday... oh, you want one of our friends to fuck you?"
This one–fuck. This one being the first one. Evil.
"Not a rhetorical question, Martyn," Joe says.
"...Yeah," Martyn answers.
A snort at what Martyn wrote down. "Joe, it's not Ren, either. Guess who he wants to have him bent over the rail of his boat?"
"Keralis?" Joe laughs.
"Yeah! Can you believe that?"
Martyn's stomach churns with embarrassment at the laughter; his breath hitches when Joe angles up his hips to start grinding inside. "What else does Keralis do?"
"Oh, it's just the one line. Martyn, if this is a reoccurring trend, we'll just tie you to the Sybian all night, okay? This is really pathetic."
"I've got work in the morning–" Martyn tries to say.
"No, it's Saturday, not Sunday," Cleo corrects. "We can torture you all night long tonight, and then, I dunno, pamper you tomorrow or something."
Oh, fuck. He did forget what day it was.
"What else were you thinking for Keralis?" Cleo asks. "You only wrote one line. You need to tell us."
This is horrible. He–he always can't believe he agreed to this. Confessions are like, one of his least favorite things. "He... um... he buys me nice clothes, dresses–ah, Joe!"
Joe has this vibrator, is shoving it into Martyn's taint, hitting his prostate from the outside. "Keep talking until you hit the edge, and then we'll move on."
"God, god, he–" Martyn imagines it, the hand on his back, the cool voice in his ear– "He c-calls me princess, tells me he's dressed me, me up like one, s-so he'll go ahead and, and, and, mm, fuck me like one–gonna, gonna fill me with cum, c-call my ass a pussy and promise to breed it, oh, oh, fuck–"
"And, there's the clench," Joe says, removes the vibrator.
Martyn got worked up so fast, riding the edge so hard–it almost hurts to have it all ripped away. "Please, please, please," he whimpers.
The sound of more papers rustling around. "Okay, okay... What's this... you want to–honestly, Martyn, your handwriting. I should make you write lines while you cockwarm a dildo. Okay. You want... Ren–oh, here we go. Your little crush. You want Ren to get you on your knees and–make you piss yourself? Martyn, you're so disgusting." Cleo scoffs at the end. "Why do you want to piss yourself, huh? Why Ren?"
"He, he could smell it," Martyn whimpers. Cries out when the vibrator goes back on his dick. "He could smell me–so humiliated, and, and I, I just–"
"We should record this, send it to him," Joe suggests.
"It would solve your little crush problem!" Cleo chirps.
Martyn tries to get up, and his balls are grabbed, yanked back down. "Nah, nah, you ain't goin' nowhere," Joe admonishes, and the punishment is delicious. "Why are you so gross, Martyn? Wanting to be treated that way–that must be so embarrassing. And, especially for <em>Ren</em> to know?"
The vibrator gets shoved back into Martyn's balls, makes him jackknife until his knees collide with the bottom of the table. "I–ah–"
Something wicked in Joe's voice, his accent thick in his own arousal and it's so hot. "Go ahead and call Ren's name until you hit the edge, got it?"
Mortifying, absolutely. Martyn squeaks out, "Ren, mm–Ren, please, ah, let me, let me cum, please–"
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Martyn gasps for air, his cock spurting precum and nothing more.
"Too bad he isn't here, huh?" Cleo muses, moves onto the next card. "Oh, okay. We just have one that says 'please let me come'... come where? You can go where you want!"
"N-no, orgasm! I–please, let me orgasm!" Martyn cries.
"If you want to cum, you need to write it properly. This won't count, either." Cleo places the paper down. "Honestly, Joe, I think the Sybian will be the best place for him to learn his lesson."
"Eh, maybe. But I wanna hear him cry in my arms tonight, y'know? Maybe... hm." Joe shifts Martyn up to rearrange his thighs. "We could just... uh..."
"Oh! I got it. Martyn, get off Joe."
Joe's cock makes a filthy sound as Martyn climbs off him.
"Okay, so–Joe, here's what we're gonna do... there's only, what, five valid confessions here?" Cleo taps the papers. "We want thirty-five. Martyn will have to ride a dildo until he comes up with thirty more fantasies that pass our test. Sound good?"
"Ooh, okay. What will make him cry later?"
"Your face. I dunno. I'll go get the dildo." And Cleo walks out.
Turns out that part of making Martyn cry is Joe facefucking him until he pulls out and cums all over his glasses, which–rude! That's hard to clean!
But, also.
It helps make Martyn feel like an even bigger whore afterwards, writing down fantasy after fantasy, just to be picked apart for them, when he can barely see through the cumstains.
"If I got one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh Fir how am I supposed to use the turn signal?" They make me sick. CJ you can't just say that.
