||Original Art by the Lovely Kisu-No-Hi||
||Color Edit by K-13||
![[[Original Art @ Kelaruj]]
[[Color Edit @ K-13]]
“It seems you are at the end of your plateau phase now, Jake. Your heartbeat’s cadence is very elevated. As is your core temperature. My sensors can discern the increase of the contraction of the muscles at the base of your penis. Also on the digits currently inserted in your rectum. Your breathing pattern is one I could easily correlate with panic. Are you panicked, Jake. You shouldn’t be.”
It tastes like metal, far from cold on his tongue by now, but smooth, soft against the muscle. That doesn’t prevent it from moving though, enthusiastically slicking the metal digits that keep thrusting between his lips - perfect in sync and number to the one’s stretching him. He can almost hear the wet sounds in the midst of his lonely ragged breaths, of his own heart beat echoing in his ears. The slurping sound around metal makes him blush further, but it is nothing due to embarrassment now: he is too far gone to be properly ashamed. Maybe later.
“Your vocalizations are becoming more urgent, Jake. Out of control. Can you control them Jake, I am so very curious. Your seminal fluid keeps leaking profusely. Is it a desirable feeling, Jake. Should I go faster.”
But now, as the synthesized voice spouts weirdly clinical terms and observations, so close to his ear, he can’t do much but pant and slurp and moan in such an utterly honest and primal way he barely recognizes his own voice.
His hazed mind clings to the robotic version of Dirk’s voice, void of inflection - and still so very alluring, in ways he doesn’t even want - is able - to dwell on.
His cock pulses, his hips kept still by unyielding hands, he can’t move, he can’t thrust into the robotic hand that strokes his cock, he can’t push back and down into pistoning fingers. He can’t move his head without the stinging on his scalp, he can’t swallow the saliva that keeps flooding his mouth. He’s trapped in a metal cage of an embrace, totally at the mercy of the robotic representation of his best bro, and he just can’t doesn’t want to think.
He can’t do anything else but feel and pulse, pant and twitch. Grunt and moan.
So he does.
“I will take the rumbling modulation of your voice as a yes then.”](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m89a63n99a1ql5odeo1_500.png)
[[Original Art @ Kelaruj]]
[[Color Edit @ K-13]]
“It seems you are at the end of your plateau phase now, Jake. Your heartbeat’s cadence is very elevated. As is your core temperature. My sensors can discern the increase of the contraction of the muscles at the base of your penis. Also on the digits currently inserted in your rectum. Your breathing pattern is one I could easily correlate with panic. Are you panicked, Jake. You shouldn’t be.”
It tastes like metal, far from cold on his tongue by now, but smooth, soft against the muscle. That doesn’t prevent it from moving though, enthusiastically slicking the metal digits that keep thrusting between his lips - perfect in sync and number to the one’s stretching him. He can almost hear the wet sounds in the midst of his lonely ragged breaths, of his own heart beat echoing in his ears. The slurping sound around metal makes him blush further, but it is nothing due to embarrassment now: he is too far gone to be properly ashamed. Maybe later.
“Your vocalizations are becoming more urgent, Jake. Out of control. Can you control them Jake, I am so very curious. Your seminal fluid keeps leaking profusely. Is it a desirable feeling, Jake. Should I go faster.”
But now, as the synthesized voice spouts weirdly clinical terms and observations, so close to his ear, he can’t do much but pant and slurp and moan in such an utterly honest and primal way he barely recognizes his own voice.
His hazed mind clings to the robotic version of Dirk’s voice, void of inflection - and still so very alluring, in ways he doesn’t even want - is able - to dwell on.
His cock pulses, his hips kept still by unyielding hands, he can’t move, he can’t thrust into the robotic hand that strokes his cock, he can’t push back and down into pistoning fingers. He can’t move his head without the stinging on his scalp, he can’t swallow the saliva that keeps flooding his mouth. He’s trapped in a metal cage of an embrace, totally at the mercy of the robotic representation of his best bro, and he just can’t doesn’t want to think.
He can’t do anything else but feel and pulse, pant and twitch. Grunt and moan.
So he does.
“I will take the rumbling modulation of your voice as a yes then.”
![||Original Art @ BuffDaddyJohn||
||Color Edit @ K-13||
“The sink’s not going to hold.”
“I’m not settin’ you on the sink, asswipe.”
“Why are we even doing it in here, Bro. The bathroom is too small, what even - is this a christening all the rooms in the apartment thing, is the crawl space next?”
“…Dave.”
“We have a perfectly good bed to bounce on. And the futon, even if last time I almost rolled off it -this is like, canned sardines sex. That’s the reason for the oil in there. For them to grind together and have slick fishy orgies. That’s kinda disturbing. I legit grossed myself out now.”
“…Dave.”
“What.”
“…yer hard.”
“…”
“And twitchin’.”
“…”
“And blushin’.”
“…Shut up.”
[[Obvious statements are an excellent distraction maneuver. ]]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m81u6gI7Hx1ql5odeo1_500.png)
||Original Art @ BuffDaddyJohn||
||Color Edit @ K-13||
“The sink’s not going to hold.”
“I’m not settin’ you on the sink, asswipe.”
“Why are we even doing it in here, Bro. The bathroom is too small, what even - is this a christening all the rooms in the apartment thing, is the crawl space next?”
“…Dave.”
“We have a perfectly good bed to bounce on. And the futon, even if last time I almost rolled off it -this is like, canned sardines sex. That’s the reason for the oil in there. For them to grind together and have slick fishy orgies. That’s kinda disturbing. I legit grossed myself out now.”
“…Dave.”
“What.”
“…yer hard.”
“…”
“And twitchin’.”
“…”
“And blushin’.”
“…Shut up.”
[[Obvious statements are an excellent distraction maneuver. ]]
![[|Original Art|] by Norhuu
[|Color Edit|] by K-13](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7u3ocorfP1ql5odeo1_500.png)
#Raising Dave #Dave Strider #Bro Strider #Striders #Norhuu #Homestuck #I had too color this - had to. #mycolos
#kelaruj #davejohn #dave strider #john egbert #nsfw #what is consistent coloring #damn lucky couch #and blanket #this took forever but i regret nothing #hammertime #pepsicola #mycolos #long post is long
![[Original Art] by BuffDaddyJohn
[Color Edit] by K-13
It’s as though you reached into the mirror - it’s as if the cold smooth surface gave way and let you met skin that is your own but isn’t.
The rush of touch, when you have been alone in this state of not really being, fuels a longing you didn’t even knew you harbored.
And in a way you’re still alone.
But you aren’t.
There is no need for words as you allow your mind to cease its endless analysis, tired of grasping for answers and coming up with nothing but hands full of nothingness.
Inquiries and answers that give you no peace in its truthfulness.
There is no need to question because you are too thirsty for some kind of companionship that you can touch - even if only a trick.
Maybe you’re going mad.
But as noses brush, as fingers touch the side of your neck, as gentle as they are rough skinned, you really don’t mind the lack of sanity.
The breath that tickles your lips makes them tingle - your mind chimes in saying there is no need to hide because you cannot hide from yourself - the metronome of your heart picks up, pace runs high in cadence, strong in nature - you can feel the blood you do not have rushing through your veins and you grasp this feeling because it seems like ages have passed since you last felt anything at all.
You feel alive in your death - so fuck everything.
There are words whispered against your moist lips - condensation from your combined breaths, hot and real because reality is a matter of perception.
You’re not alone because you have yourself - there is no need to stone your expression, to rule in your breaths, and you heart and your hands that come to a solid waist, gripping the fabric that gives way to your grasping fingers, as a tongue slides softly on the corner of your mouth.
‘No one knows you better than I do.’](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6v6gmuWof1ql5odeo1_500.png)
[Original Art] by BuffDaddyJohn
[Color Edit] by K-13
It’s as though you reached into the mirror - it’s as if the cold smooth surface gave way and let you met skin that is your own but isn’t.
The rush of touch, when you have been alone in this state of not really being, fuels a longing you didn’t even knew you harbored.
And in a way you’re still alone.
But you aren’t.
There is no need for words as you allow your mind to cease its endless analysis, tired of grasping for answers and coming up with nothing but hands full of nothingness.
Inquiries and answers that give you no peace in its truthfulness.
There is no need to question because you are too thirsty for some kind of companionship that you can touch - even if only a trick.
Maybe you’re going mad.
But as noses brush, as fingers touch the side of your neck, as gentle as they are rough skinned, you really don’t mind the lack of sanity.
The breath that tickles your lips makes them tingle - your mind chimes in saying there is no need to hide because you cannot hide from yourself - the metronome of your heart picks up, pace runs high in cadence, strong in nature - you can feel the blood you do not have rushing through your veins and you grasp this feeling because it seems like ages have passed since you last felt anything at all.
You feel alive in your death - so fuck everything.
There are words whispered against your moist lips - condensation from your combined breaths, hot and real because reality is a matter of perception.
You’re not alone because you have yourself - there is no need to stone your expression, to rule in your breaths, and you heart and your hands that come to a solid waist, gripping the fabric that gives way to your grasping fingers, as a tongue slides softly on the corner of your mouth.
‘No one knows you better than I do.’
Because I love Davesprite. And that lineart was tickling my coloring bone.
KHLJASLJS LOOK AT THIS.
YOU.
YES YOU GUYS.
EVERYONE GO LOVE k-13 NOW.
SUCCESS - I am happy you liked it babe. 
He just looked so damned cute and DAVESPRITE FEELS.
#davejohn #hammertime #pepsicola #dave strider #john egbert #homestuck #kelaruj #shall I finish this set? #mycolos #ahaha what is this background you speak of #kela's art love mode
![:[[Original Lineart by Kilehye]]:
:[[Color Edit by K-13]]:
He holds it devotedly, face mere inches away - orange eyes not shielded by shades drinking in the sight presented to him. An undeniable warmth spreads beyond the confines of his chest, gliding down his spine, shimmering fire, making him adjust his position minimally. Closer, rubbing his own half hard dick against him, his own breath itching in his throat with the moan that never comes.
Carmine eyes dart around - to the dark floor riddled with vines, to his own ruffle of feathers, but the moment he feels warm breath on his erection his eyes snap to it - his lips part in a quick intake of air as his eyebrows scrunch together and up - it pulses, Dirk cradles it closer as his lips make the rest of the journey to place an almost chaste kiss on the throbbing cock.
Again, reverent, almost innocent, jaw moving leisurely, smoothly, for lips to caress the heated flesh - bright yellow cum leaking from the member, soiling his glove, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. The kiss ends as he moves back slightly (orange orbs meet red), but it’s not the last one he dotes upon it. It’s merely a prelude to a barrage of them.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m57m5cVMD51ql5odeo1_500.png)
:[[Original Lineart by Kilehye]]:
:[[Color Edit by K-13]]:
He holds it devotedly, face mere inches away - orange eyes not shielded by shades drinking in the sight presented to him. An undeniable warmth spreads beyond the confines of his chest, gliding down his spine, shimmering fire, making him adjust his position minimally. Closer, rubbing his own half hard dick against him, his own breath itching in his throat with the moan that never comes.Carmine eyes dart around - to the dark floor riddled with vines, to his own ruffle of feathers, but the moment he feels warm breath on his erection his eyes snap to it - his lips part in a quick intake of air as his eyebrows scrunch together and up - it pulses, Dirk cradles it closer as his lips make the rest of the journey to place an almost chaste kiss on the throbbing cock.
Again, reverent, almost innocent, jaw moving leisurely, smoothly, for lips to caress the heated flesh - bright yellow cum leaking from the member, soiling his glove, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. The kiss ends as he moves back slightly (orange orbs meet red), but it’s not the last one he dotes upon it. It’s merely a prelude to a barrage of them.
![::Original Art:: by Kilehye
::Color Edit:: by K-13
[click original link for awesome drabble]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3vlzdVF8R1ql5odeo1_500.png)
#kilehye #stridercest #dave #bro #striders #mycolos #I am not a creeper #I just love Kile's art too much
![Gift Art that I just had to color cause I am one sick puppy.
[Original Lineart] by [Kisu-No-Hi]
[Color] by [K-13]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m31pee70hs1ql5odeo1_500.png)
Gift Art that I just had to color cause I am one sick puppy.
[Original Lineart] by [Kisu-No-Hi]
[Color] by [K-13]
#mycolos #kilehye #davespritejohn #nsfw #motherofgod #sorry for the background #Kat colors stuff #cloaca #le beau porn #REALLY NOT SAFE FOR WORK #john egbert #davesprite
![[Original Art] by Antemrd
Color by K-13
[Posters ripped from MSPA - Dave’s Living Room.]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m20nh7RnYW1ql5odeo1_500.png)
![And sometimes, the perfect pokerface falls, the stage of strifes becomes his private haven, and he allows his features to morph - to mirror what his shades hide.
‘I have no fucking business raising a kid.’
Original art by Timey [X] <—click me
Color by K-13](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m1t4l2bpl41ql5odeo1_500.png)
And sometimes, the perfect pokerface falls, the stage of strifes becomes his private haven, and he allows his features to morph - to mirror what his shades hide.
‘I have no fucking business raising a kid.’
Original art by Timey [X] <—click me
Color by K-13
