Entry tags:
Fanmail the Fifteenth
[ Fanmail will be found in big boxes full of letters in the lobby, to be easily found by anyone who's walking by if the box isn't pulled quick enough. Some letters have QR codes, with instructions to scan them with your cell phone's free QR code scanner function. Beyond the letters that are submitted below, you may assume there are more letters in every box if you'd like.
Although bodies of letters may include idol aliases, assume every envelope and package is addressed to or otherwise uses the official idol name of the character.
Letters found in the "Everyone" header may be assumed to be part of every unit's box, most likely with multiple copies of the submission unless otherwise stated.
Characters on hiatus have their fanmail IC saved and stuffed into their mailbox for when they return! They'll be located in this post for easy findings, but don't worry, the fans' feelings will reach the character somehow ;)
Fanmail given to dropped characters will be sent to everyone in the unit, though still labeled with the dropped character's name. You can find these in the "Every Unit" subheader. ]
LiliS
sensitIV
pep!pep!
Taisho Roman Revolution
BAD END=DEAD END
future is now
WILD CITY
☆ZRAEL
Heart Soldier Senshi
AlcheME!
avante en garde
BARiTONES
Everyone
Although bodies of letters may include idol aliases, assume every envelope and package is addressed to or otherwise uses the official idol name of the character.
Letters found in the "Everyone" header may be assumed to be part of every unit's box, most likely with multiple copies of the submission unless otherwise stated.
Characters on hiatus have their fanmail IC saved and stuffed into their mailbox for when they return! They'll be located in this post for easy findings, but don't worry, the fans' feelings will reach the character somehow ;)
Fanmail given to dropped characters will be sent to everyone in the unit, though still labeled with the dropped character's name. You can find these in the "Every Unit" subheader. ]
sensitIV
pep!pep!
Taisho Roman Revolution
BAD END=DEAD END
future is now
WILD CITY
☆ZRAEL
Heart Soldier Senshi
AlcheME!
avante en garde
BARiTONES
Everyone
Heart Soldier Senshi
Hiryuu
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Weirdly, the author chooses to keep God drinking and hanging out in the background with a small but weird running commentary about how it would have all been more entertaining if Taisho had lost? But still an 8/10 performance. ]
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Honestly, you can drop the nice girl act and embrace the Do-S nature that you seem to have. You're pretty violent now, aren't you? You might as well accept it. Like, I'm not even trying to be mean here! I want to support you becoming who you truly are! It's easier that way, right? And like, I'd still like you no matter what!
Cuz I'm your fan.
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Hurricane
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A Very Good Boy
===
"Stay," is always the hardest command for Hurricane to follow.
It's the only time he sits still; outside of this room, he's in constant motion, days an endless flurry of activity. He just doesn't slow down. Nemesis doesn't think he knows how.
But here, on the floor at her feet, he does it just because she says so.
Nemesis glances up from her phone, over to where Hurricane's waiting in the corner. He's still in the pose she left him in, even though it's been nearly ten minutes.
He's naked except for the collar around his neck, purple leather in her position color, neat and trim. The little silver tag reads "Hurricane."
His calves are bound to his thighs with straps of thick, black leather, forcing him to balance on his knees. His hands are curled into fists, wrapped generously in fabric and then forced into padded leather mitts. He can't stand like this; he can't use his hands. He can't speak, with the ball gag caught between his teeth.
On top of his head, the soft, floppy ears granted by AlcheME's potion perk toward her when he notices her looking. The feathery golden retriever tail starts to wag a little, cautious.
He's still hard. His cock is straining up against his stomach, and as she makes a show of appraising him, it gives a twitch, and a drop of precome oozes down to join the small puddle on the floor.
"How're you doing over there?" says Nemesis, casual. "You being a good boy?"
The tail wags harder. Hurricane makes a noise in his throat that comes out as a whine, given the gag.
"C'mere," says Nemesis. "Come."
She puts a hand down and beckons, like she would to a dog – enjoys the way Hurricane's face flushes a deeper red.
But he comes, tail wagging cautiously – picks his way across the floor on mitts and knees, to wait by her side.
She reaches down and scratches gently at one of the golden retriever ears, and when Hurricane presses into the hand, she relents and pets with the other hand, as well. He shivers; his eyes fall closed.
"You listened pretty good today," says Nemesis, and at the praise, his flush deepens. "You think you deserve a treat?"
Hurricane hesitates; he makes that sound again, somewhere low in his throat, like a whine.
"Yeah, well," says Nemesis. "I think you do. So hold still a sec."
She reaches down around him, to undo the strap for the gag – eases it out of his mouth. He works his jaw when it comes free, stretching the muscles, and Nemesis reaches out to rub along the curve of it with her fingertips, firm pressure.
"That feel good?"
Hurricane bobs his head, knowing better not to speak – dogs don't talk, after all – so she keeps going for another long couple of seconds. When she takes her hands back, she says, "You ready for your treat?"
She got them earlier today, just for this. They're tiny cakes, pre-packaged, perfectly bite-sized. They look like the kind of stuff you get at the discount store for cheap, but she's pretty sure Hurricane won't care. As long as it's sweet, it'll be fine by him.
She tears open the pack and holds one out to him – watches him start to lift a hand to take it, realize the mitts are in the way, and put it back down again. He goes slowly red, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
"Go on," says Nemesis, and offers again. "Take it."
He shuffles another awkward inch or two nearer – reaches out, cautious, to take the treat between his teeth. It's careful, and delicate, and Nemesis ruins that straight out the gate by applying gentle pressure until it presses past his lips. His mouth is warm, and wet, and he has to lap a little with his tongue, to get the crumbs.
When he pulls back, he can't quite meet her eyes. "Dude," he says, voice a little shaky. "C'mon. I'm dying here."
She grins at him in answer, teasing, and fluffs his ears. "Pretty sure dogs don't talk," she tells him, just to see the way he blushes.
She runs a hand over his back, smooth and warm, fingers tracing the line of his spine. He shivers at the contact, hissing a sharp breath in through his nose. He's squirming a bit, now, trying to stay still, and she runs a hand over his flank and down to his thigh, to make it harder for him.
"I guess you been good enough for another treat," she says. "Lucky boy, you get to sleep on the bed tonight, instead of in the kennel."
She settles herself on the bed – pats the blankets beside her. "Come."
It takes him a minute. He can't hold onto anything, and the bindings on his legs make it a challenge. But he manages, with some effort, and Nemesis scratches at his ears again when he's joined her.
"There you go," she says. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She strokes a hand along his back again, just to watch him squirm. Then she says, "Roll over."
Hurricane ducks his head. He's blushing harder than before, if that's even possible, but he lies down among the covers and rolls onto his back.
His hands are useless at his sides. His knees are bent, tied into position. His cock is harder than she thinks she's ever seen it, flat against his stomach, the tip glistening with precome.
"There's a good boy," says Nemesis, and sets both hands on his torso, palms flat. She begins to rub, over his ribs and the flat of his stomach – over his chest, catching the nipples deliberately with the pads of her fingers as she passes.
Hurricane makes a soft sound and bites at his lip, glancing away. In retaliation Nemesis lets her flesh hand drift lower, to the space between his stomach and cock. She rubs the skin there, gentle; the back of her hand nudges against his erection, as though the contact is incidental.
He whimpers and shifts – shifts again, hips lifting unconsciously in an attempt to get more friction.
She pretends not to notice, rubbing gently with both hands until she can feel him trembling beneath her palms, hips rocking helplessly into the motion.
It takes him five whole minutes to break. Nemesis is impressed; he really is a good boy.
"Nem," he gasps, breathless. "Please."
"What'd I say about dogs talking?" she asks him, idly.
He opens his mouth again – maybe to apologize – but she doesn't let him get that far. She repositions her hand so that it lies flat on top of his cock, pressing down enough that he can feel it. Then she starts to rub again, palming along the length of him but not curling her fingers to take him in hand.
Hurricane groans like he's dying. His hands reach, abortively, for the blankets, but bound as they are, there's no way for him to hold onto anything. He tips his head back and pants; sweat slicks the hair to his forehead, and the purple collar stands out against the pale skin of his throat, stark contrast.
Nemesis is pretty sure that if she grabbed hold and jerked him off in earnest, he'd be done in about three seconds flat, but she doesn't. Instead, she keeps teasing until he's bucking restlessly into her palm in a shaky rhythm.
She lifts her prosthetic hand to smooth his hair away from his face, gentle. The other hones in on the tip of his cock and makes small circles there with her palm.
Hurricane shudders and shifts; he turns in toward the hand in his hair, and she lets it drift down, tracing the line of his cheekbone and then his jaw.
Nemesis leans in to speak into his ear, low and soft. Her hand smooths across the line of his cock, root to tip, before lifting up and beginning again, like she's petting a dog. "Go on," she says, so near that her lips brush the shell of his ear. "You been good."
His face goes hot again, red and mortified. He ducks his head to bury it against her shoulder, hiding his expression.
But he comes, with a drawn-out whimper, cock pulsing under her hand and come spattering across his chest and abdomen.
She pets him through it, until he shifts a little, oversensitive, and she takes her hand away again.
Nemesis flops down on the bed next to him. He's warm and solid at her side, chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
"How you doing?" she says. "You good?"
Hurricane nods, kind of shaky. "Yeah. Uh." He licks at his lips. "Yeah."
She watches him, in profile: the parted lips, and the flushed cheeks dotted with freckles, and the disheveled hair. The surge of affection that washes over her is as strong as the wave of want when she realizes, belatedly, that she's still dressed after all that.
"Like, keep going good?" says Nemesis. She nudges at him, quirking a smile. "Cause I was kinda thinking we could do the peanut butter thing."
Hurricane huffs a startled laugh. He turns toward her, a grin starting to spread across his face. It's crooked and warm and honestly kind of goofy. "Totally keep going good," he says. "Bring it, dude."
Nemesis leans in to kiss him, then, long and slow and full of heat. When she pulls back, he looks kind of dazed.
"Stay put," she tells him, and presses another quick kiss to his cheek.
Then she hops down off the bed and goes to get the peanut butter.
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Extra Parts
===
D.Va/King
===
King's the first.
She's not planning to use them or anything; they just kind of pop out, while they're in the middle of making out.
It's not like he's never seen them before, but all the same, when she opens her eyes and leans back from the kiss to see what's caused him to slow down, he's staring.
They're easy to stare at. They're pink and blue, slick masses of pure muscle. They're impressively large, and they're got a mind of their own, and there's four of them.
D.Va finds herself blushing. "They kinda do their own thing," she says, and tries to will them back inside, to dubious success.
King reaches out a hand, curious, to stroke along the surface of one. "You don't control them?"
D.Va shudders at the gentle touch. "Sometimes?" she says. "Sort of. But mostly they –"
King hasn't stopped stroking, and it's very distracting. Her words trail off into silence, and she shudders again, hard.
"Can you feel that?" he asks, like it isn't obvious already.
D.Va opens her mouth to reply, but what comes out instead is a moan, because his forefinger has discovered the tip, and he's rubbing over it, back and forth, leaning forward as though fascinated by the way the surface ripples.
===
D.Va/Lucifel
===
Lucifel's an accident.
She doesn't even mean for him to see them.
It's just, the live is for a checkup, and she's still recovering from that last game. She doesn't think anything of it when he asks, in his soft voice, if he can check to make sure the wounds are clean before he heals them.
He rolls her shirt up, to peer at her back. He swabs the injuries out with great care. He sets a hand on her and coaxes the wounds closed with magic.
Then he says, "Ah," and she hears him take a startled breath in.
The tentacles have snaked around his waist before she's aware of what they're trying to do. His eyes are very wide, and his cheeks are tinged a delicate pink.
She's aware of the tips of the tentacles trailing slowly over the soft skin of his abdomen, because she can feel it.
"They're awfully forward," manages Lucifel.
He doesn't look displeased. He looks like he's considering them, eyes half-lidded. He licks at his lips, a flash of pink tongue.
"I could be forward, too," says D.Va, all in a rush. "If you wanted."
The tentacle trails lower, and both of them freeze at the same moment, shivering with pleasure as it finds the place where Lucifel is tenting his skirt and begins to rub.
"Yes," says Lucifel, and licks at his lips again. "I think I'd like that."
===
D.Va/Hurricane
===
Hurricane is bright red.
The flush darkens his cheeks and extends to his ears. He's looking determinedly everywhere but at her.
"Sorry, dude," he manages, with difficulty, and makes to back out of the room. "I, uh. I didn't know you were busy."
Busy is one way to put it.
D.Va's naked from the waist down, spread out on HSS's couch, and there's a tentacle buried in her, deep and slick, a constant, roiling rhythm that makes her gasp with pleasure.
She wants to be embarrassed. Really she does.
But the tentacle inside her squirms, and she cries out, back arching, toes curling, and forgets all about shame. The other tentacle, one of the ones that's not busy, has reached out to wind its way around Hurricane's ankle, stopping his retreat.
He face goes even redder. "Uh," he manages.
D.Va bites her lip, to try and pull herself together. She levers herself up on one elbow. She doesn't always agree with what the extra appendages in her back get up to, but honestly – honestly, this doesn't seem like all that bad a call.
"Hey," she says. "C'mere."
Hurricane's eyes are so wide it's almost comical. "What?"
"C'mere," says D.Va again. "Why don't you – why don't you hang out a while?"
The tentacle starts to tug, reeling him in.
He hesitates for a long couple of seconds – glances her way, and flushes deeper red, and glances away again. When he swallows, it's audible in the quiet of the room, the only sound besides the soft sclick of the tentacle inside her.
The tentacle tugs at him again, and this time, he lets himself be led.
===
D.Va/Kaguya
===
Kaguya's a screamer.
D.Va never would have guessed.
The girl's quiet, usually, but not like this – not when she's lying, sweaty and rumpled, in the middle of a pile of thoroughly disheveled blankets.
Every time a tentacle slides into her, it makes a soft, wet squelching sound. Every time it comes free, she makes a soft, breathy little whine, like she's begging for it to come back.
D.Va can't help her. She's been out of control for the better part of half an hour, lost and dazed and honestly, at this point, just along for the ride. The sounds she's making are twice again as loud as Kaguya. She can't help it; the tentacle's surrounded with warmth and wet, and her own fingers are between her legs, working at her clit, and her mind's going blank with the pleasure.
Between the two of them, it's a miracle no one's burst in yet to see whether they're being murdered.
Beside her, Kaguya convulses and wails – reaches out, with shaky fingers, to haul D.Va in for a kiss.
That quiets them down, at least; when D.Va moans again, shaky and long-drawn, it's muffled by the soft press of Kaguya's lips against her own.
===
Intensity/D.Va
===
Intensity makes it a game, because of course he does.
She shouldn't be surprised that he's got a steel exam table in his laboratory, but there it is, sleek and clinical and shining.
He wants her to lay face down on it.
She tells him he's out of his goddamn mind and doesn't move until he puts down a blanket to keep her boobs from getting squished against the cold metal. It ruins the aesthetic a little, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.
"All right," says Intensity, and sets a hand on the flat of her back when she's settled. "Experiment one. What does it take to draw them out?"
"You kidding?" says D.Va, "All you've got to do is –"
Then she shuts up because he's snapping on a latex glove, and tracing the tip of his finger along the exposed lips of her labia, and she shudders and just enjoys it.
The tentacles are out before a full minute is up, twitching and undulating.
"Arousal," Intensity notes, sounding satisfied. "Next we'll test sensitivity levels."
He knows damn well they're sensitive.
He knows damn well, but he lays his tools out side by side in a row, like surgical implements: a feather, and a strip of cashmere, and a toothbrush.
D.Va shifts on the steel workbench, already flooded with the heat of anticipation.
"Here's to science," she says, and spreads her legs a little further.
"To science," says Intensity, with a small smile, and plucks up the feather in his gloved hand.
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[off to the side is Nemesis, drawn in a pool of crayon blood, with two Xes over her eyes]
[:(]
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Written in the front flap: "Great to finally see you finally living up to your potential! Looking forward to more!"]
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Abi
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Spring Born Wind
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King
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Beauty Thief
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Sponsored by Mountain Dew® & Doritos®
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Italian Stallion
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Warden
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Entire Unit
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