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2026-01-06
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Take it to Heart

Summary:

So, on the topic of sexual awakenings, here’s one for you - I’m sure by now you think you know the direction this story is heading, becoming an erotica of all fucking things, but you’re dearly mistaken, esteemed reader.

It is actually going to become a piece of erotic literature. How is that different from an erotica, you may say? Well, an example goes a long way in explaining contrast.

(Or, Ultimate Dirk decides to sexualize the narrative. Sorry, his narrative.)

Notes:

ult dirk talks you through it. thats all i gotta say man

for you. you know damn well who you are <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Enough of all that chatter. Let’s get into some real business here. By real business, I do mean something a little more adult-friendly. Or exclusive. Adult-exclusive. Very appropriate for this adult-appropiate manner I’ve rendered myself into. Also the fact that this extensive comic is, by convention, catered towards young adults now, since you all started reading it as impressionable teens with far too much time on your hands, and it’s been long enough that you’re old enough to grapple with steady jobs and sexual awakenings.

Instead of focusing on employment - or lack thereof for most of you, I’m quite certain - we’re going to focus on the latter.

Sexual awakenings come in all different shapes and forms. Some of you were desperate enough to find meaning in the polyamorous nature of Alternian culture, which I studied thoroughly enough to understand their relationships of various natures. Some of you took it upon yourselves to try to fulfill the undeniable fantasy of finding ‘the right person for every quadrant’ - good for you, good on you, and good luck with that, really.

Some of you, a greater percentage, found meaning through healthy monogamous relationships that lasted, the kind that fade to the background quietly with their stability. While rare in nature, they still existed, and you strived for a love as deep and willing to survive as it.

And then most of you found out your sexual proclivities through the most deranged of relationships. Seriously unhealthy, unstable, codependent relationships. One of which I unfortunately partook in. Yes, past tense. Get it out of your head.

Anyway, it’s not like sexual awakenings pause the moment you stop being an ignorant teenager. Some come later in life, as you develop finer tastes and palates for everything that the dating scene has to offer.

As the omniscient writer for the time being, I can assure you I will not have any sexual awakenings until Page 9 of this document, where I realize, belatedly, my deep fascination with older men. Actually I suppose it’s not an awakening anymore, if it’s already common knowledge.

Nevermind then.

So, on the topic of sexual awakenings, here’s one for you - I’m sure by now you think you know the direction this story is heading, becoming an erotica of all fucking things, but you’re dearly mistaken, esteemed reader.

It is actually going to become a piece of erotic literature. How is that different from an erotica, you may say? Well, an example goes a long way in explaining contrast. Here’s what an erotica may look like, as per a draft of mine I found crumpled on my desk:

Dirk An unnamed man rests on the bed, legs spread and cigarette in hand, wondering just how easy it would be to snuff it on the naked skin of his lover, moving atop him in frantic bursts that do nothing to impress him. How easy it should be to forget all about his tantalizing, maddening feelings for a man currently halfway across the world, doing fuck knows what, when there’s someone right here that actively desires him. Bitterly, he places his lips around the cigarette, inhaling nicotine that aims straight for his brain as a cock drives deep into him, numbing himself over and over without any sign of stopping. Even if it slowly kills him. Even if it makes the craving worse every waking moment, Dirk doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting.

And a form of erotic literature would look something like this:

“Get on your knees,” The man towering above you says, lean yet muscular arms folding in disinterest. He sees yet ignores the way your cock twitches, only evidence of his observation being a cocked eyebrow and a disappointed frown as you drop to your knees beneath him, your hand darting out to slide from his calf to his thigh by instinct, feeling the thick hair yield under your pressure, leaving goosebumps in your wake. He shows no sign of caring about your ministrations, but you can tell by the way his bottom lip twitches that he’s trying to suppress satisfaction, put on a show just for you.

You don’t waste time getting your mouth on his cock, taking it out of hunter green boxers, making sure to press a sloppy kiss to the tip before you envelop it in your heat. It doesn’t take long for Jake the man’s façade to crack, deep groans and grunts and occasional whimpers leaving his lips in excess, throat likely vibrating with the motion. How much you wish to wrap your hands around that column of muscle and bone, see how easily it would be to cut off his air supply, crush his windpipe to bits -

Okay, that’s enough, I think we get the gist.

So that’s the idea. Let’s turn this into some erotic literature. You game?

==> Sure.

Sweet.

So. This won’t work unless you listen to every word I say. Seriously, you need to be hanging off my every fuckin’ command. Waiting for it with bated breath, until your lungs are burning and you have to pant from how badly you want me to tell you what to do. Otherwise, these are just words on a screen, with absolutely no meaning or power whatsoever. And we can’t have that.

You’ll listen, right?

==> Yes.

Good.

Put your hand up your shirt. Feel the way your skin grows warmer under your palm, the way your chest inflates with a sharp inhale, a sound no less erotic than a whorish moan. Your hand will stutter at the insult. It won’t stop you, though, because you’re far too needy to think about stopping.

Actually, that’s pushing it a little, telling you you’re needy when you’re probably only mildly bored. Maybe we have to sweeten the deal a little.

I think I realized that writing this segment will take more effort than I thought it would a little too late, but now I’m far too deep in the bit to reverse its course, or divert it in any way, without looking lesser than I am. Fucking perfect.

==> Suggest that the sexy man engage in these shenanigans too. For inspiration.

What, you mean I should do to myself what I write down? That’s absurd. A writer shouldn’t get too attached to his own words - that’s a little too self-absorbed for my liking.

==> Dirk: Take the suggestion to HEART.

But if it’s what the masses want to see, then I guess I can oblige.

Hand on your stomach, slowly trailing down over a thigh, thumb snagging momentarily on the waistband of your preferred piece of underwear for the day. Pants are unnecessary, so you’ve shed them to a corner of the room hours ago, forgotten by now.

It’s not hard to move your hand to the inside of your thigh. Trail gently over the heat that begs for your attention, twitches in a valiant effort to remind you of the consequences of ignoring it. Your mouth begins to water as the tips of your fingers trail over your clothed entrance, the cheap D-tier fabric providing S-tier friction against your throbbing heat.

It doesn’t take much for you to realize that you’re getting off to a comic page written in the mandatory Courier New font, and while this realization should humiliate you enough to make you click off the page and never seek it again, you somehow persist in your determination to be as embarrassing as possible, index finger dancing over the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down slowly, in a way that you wouldn’t do on your own, if it weren’t for my words controlling you.

==> More.

Of course you’d say that. I didn’t expect anything less from someone who turns on notifications for updates and clicks the ever-open tab periodically to check if a new page is out. Pretty pathetic if you ask me. Do you really have nobody who can actually provide you sexual gratitification that you’re relying on me?

Whatever. You put your hand where you need it most - cunt, cock, bulge, nook, whatever word you want to use for the startlingly wide variation of ways to describe our genitals - and you begin to stroke. At first, your movements are slow and calculated, as are mine, but it doesn’t take long for your hand to move a little faster, made sloppy by the heat pooling low in your belly, fueling the fire with no regards to your thoughts.

Your mouth is dry with the effort, all the moisture transferred somewhere else in your body, vast with opportunity of exploration and a sweet, whispered promise of satisfaction. There’s little muscle on you, nothing at all compared to me, and it brings a thrill to your heart to realize that I could make you do as I pleased if I dared to move.

But I don’t, because a writer doesn’t get too attached to his words, and definitely not to his audience. And he certainly doesn’t bring a shaky hand to his own cock, stroking it with a dexterity only achievable after years of practice in masturbation, skin calloused and bumpy with cuts and scrapes from hard training in the art of swordsmanship.

==> Show your sword.

Oh, my pride and joy? That’s a little off-topic, but sure. It’s a beauty, really, one I don’t indulge in often. I keep it secured tightly on the wall, as you can see here. I sharpen it daily, maintain the hilt’s rigidity, make sure the handle is stable and satisfying to grip. The weight of the sword in my hands makes me feel complete. I ache to touch it right now, but my right hand is a bit preoccupied with writing this text.

==> That wasn’t literal.

...Of course it wasn’t.

Right. What we’re here for.

You finally take your underwear off, exposing your heat to the cool air, which makes you shiver just imperceptibly, and your palm finally meets slippery skin, hips twitching to get closer. Your craving is so palpable it's almost shameful, and you can taste it in the back of your throat, feel it seeping into the pads of your fingers.

You hold your breath for a few seconds. The lack of oxygen elevates your pleasure for its brief duration, until you're forced to exhale powerfully, the sound pleasant in the quiet air around you.

Touch yourself properly.

==> How?

I can't tell if you're acting dumb to keep my attention, or if you really just are that dense in the head.

Fine. I'll give you what you want. Detailed instructions, right ahead.

Put the heel of your palm on your cock-clit-whatever the fuck, and push one finger into your heat. Slowly, achingly, until you're spasming around it, soon heeding your body’s way of asking for more, bigger, deeper by giving it just that - another finger, now, a little belated in joining the first, pump them back and forth. Take note of the way your heat quivers around them, the way you want more.

==> More.

See? You’re getting the hang of this quite quickly, for someone who’s thinking with their dick right now. Figuratively or literally.

Though, the only ‘more’ I can give you is telling you to grab a toy. Any toy, really, pick your favorite. Whatever does the job fast enough so I can wrap up this arc soon and move onto bigger, greater things. I have so fucking much in mind for the comic to evolve, you know? I can’t spend all my time illustrating and typing up all these horny ramblings. My hand can’t take that much work.

But, for now you still have my interest. Even if it’s fleeting, you’ll take anything that comes your way from me. Don’t you want all the attention of the best version of any Strider this website has ever seen? Will ever see?

I’m sure you do. So put that toy where you desire it most, see for yourself how good you can feel when you’re being guided by me. Taking orders from me. I know you just hate to be bossed around, love being stubborn and breaking the rules however way you can, but when it’s like this you’ll take anything from me, as long as my eyes are still on you. Metaphorically, of course. I don’t have access to webcams and I doubt I ever will need to go that far to imagine the glint in your eyes as you read over my text. At this rate, the color orange is going to stimulate you far more than any pitiful partner you string along in your adventures. Psychology’s not my forte, but I’m sure this is conditioning at its finest.

It won’t take much more for you to burst, I’m sure. Never did last awfully long anyway, especially not when toys became involved.

==> Close.

I just said I know that.

Whatever. Get on with it. Rut against the toy, push your fingers deeper, I don’t care what you do. I don’t even need to tell you what to do anymore, your mind’s gonna fill in the blanks with my voice, my words, my touch. It won't feel the same. It never will.

But at least it's something, isn't it? You can imagine it. Rough hands on your body, beckoning it to give into its urges. Staring at your own reflection in the lenses of my glasses, seeing your debauchery in all its glory, sweaty and needy, glasses askew and hair a mess.

Fuck.

I can just imagine it.

==> How?

What do you mean?

==> Who are you imagining?

...

I think you should focus on your own thoughts right now.

You're close, aren't you? Bring yourself over the edge, I've toyed enough with you. Make your voice heard, moans bouncing around the walls, whatever you need to make it a grandiose affair.

And then, when you're done, settle and think about your choices that led you to this state. Enjoy your haze, the dizziness, and everything that comes with it. Maybe lay down for a nap, or for a good night's sleep.

==> That was good.

Why thank you. Not my first foray into the world of typing up all this erotic text.

==> You never answered the question.

I don't think it's necessary for you to know this early on in the narrative, and frankly I don't appreciate your interest in spoiling the story. Drop it.

==> Okay.

Okay. Moving on.

==> Wait.

What is it now?

==> Did you finish?

Very observant of you. Noble. And perhaps even selfless.

Yes, I did. Thanks for checking in.

Now, can I move on with my story?

==> Sure.

Thanks. Now, where were we...

Notes:

if youve enjoyed this, i am currently testing commissions for letters formatted like this one! except private and way more personalized lol

feel free to take a look and thanks again!!