#any self-respect or self-control is gone if he says so

[rebelspykatie]

Part 1

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Steve kisses him on a Thursday and he takes all the air in the room with him. Eddie doesn’t close his eyes. He’s too shocked to do much of anything, except sit there and let Steve take his face in those big hands and caress a thumb over his cheek while he presses their lips together. Eddie’s pretty sure he doesn’t move at all, glued to his place on the couch, as if time has continued on around him while he’s stuck there.

They’d been passing a joint back and forth, lazily smoking as they watched reruns of some old show that Wayne liked to put on when Eddie was a kid. It’s not soothing now, like it was back then, but is disharmonious in the background, the only sound in the room other than Steve moving against him as Eddie tries to figure out what’s going on.

When Steve finally pulls back, Eddie still doesn’t feel like he’s breathing. He’s able to take in Steve’s expression before his eyes pop open, the pucker of his lips, the shine to them that could possibly be from Eddie’s mouth. He doesn’t know why he didn’t push Steve away, why he didn’t intervene, but instead let Steve have this moment. All while he sat frozen.

The expression shifts once Steve’s eyes open, turning unbearably soft. His smile is sweet and gentle. He’s probably mellowed out from the weed, but his eyes are focused on Eddie. It’s not an expression Eddie’s used to seeing. It’s close to the one he gives the kids when they’re not paying attention, but not quite the same. Steve’s eyes are raking over his face, like he’s trying to memorize the dips and grooves of Eddie’s. He squirms under the scrutiny. 

“Sorry,” Steve finally says, shaking his head a bit, “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” 

He’s turned bashful now. Another expression Eddie’s not used to seeing. His Steve is a sarcastic little shit. He argues with the kids, pulls Robin into wrestling matches that he always wins until Robin starts biting, and carries a nailed up baseball bat in his trunk. Nothing about his Steve is bashful. Except, apparently it is. And something turns in Eddie’s gut. 

He’s made some fatal mistake. Took a wrong turn somewhere and now the car is crashing out of control and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He put that expression on Steve’s face and he doesn’t know how to take it back. 

“Uh-how long?” Eddie asks. He’s not sure why that’s what he says. Morbid curiosity, maybe. But now he’s desperate to know. 

Steve’s jaw shifts, contemplating. “Not sure I had it figured it out then, but probably since you held that bottle to my throat.” 

That seems preposterous. Completely illogical. They barely even knew each other back then outside of the passing monikers slapped on them from their respective cliques in high school. There’s no way that Steve’s wanted to kiss him for that long. 

“Took me a while to pick up on the clues,” Steve laughs self-deprecatingly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve never had to interpret what it means coming from a guy, so I think I deserve a pass on not getting it for so long.” 

He’s smiling at Eddie again. Not quite as bashful, more teasing, like he’s anticipating Eddie teasing back. But Eddie is still stuck on the kiss. His brain hasn’t caught up to the words coming out of Steve’s mouth. He doesn’t know what clues Steve even means. 

“I’m not sure what to say, Steve,” he hesitantly says when the silence has gone on a beat too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything. We could put our mouths to better use, though,” Steve says, leaning in with a devious glint in his eyes that Eddie’s only seen in passing, in the halls of Hawkins High when he tried to ignore Steve pressing Nancy into her locker and kissing the daylights out of her where anyone could see. 

Eddie finally snaps out of his haze and puts a hand on Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. It’s the first time he’s made any move to stop this from barreling out of control. 

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice sounds strained to his own ears, “wait.” 

“Sorry, was that too fast?” Steve scoots back on the couch, putting some distance between them, but not backing entirely out of Eddie’s space. “I should’ve asked if that was okay, shit.” Worry creases his forehead.

“I-” Eddie takes a steadying breath, “I don’t understand why you did it at all.” 

“Why I kissed you?” Steve tilts his head to the side, that curious golden retriever look. “Because I like you.” His brows furrow. “I thought that was obvious.” 

“But you like girls.” It comes out more a statement, than a question. And it makes Steve look even more perplexed, the smile dipping, becoming more muted. “I saw you with Nancy, you weren’t faking that. Unless you have, like, Oscar worthy acting skills, but I don’t think you’re capable of that.” 

“I do like girls, but I also like guys.” Steve shrugs, says it so casually like he has the whole world figured out and he’s unbothered by how insane that tidbit is to just drop on your unsuspecting friend, even after you kiss them. “Robin helped me figure it out. It’s called being bisexual.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s called, Steve.” Eddie huffs, frustrated with the direction of this conversation. They’re clearly not on the same page here and he’s not sure if he should just spit it out. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve shrinks back into the couch, tension creeping into his shoulders.

“That you think I’d want to kiss you.” Maybe it’s better to just lay it all out on the table. Set the record straight here. Eddie’s beating around the bush too much. 

“Y-you don’t want to kiss me? But you’ve been flirting with me for months.” 

“I flirt with everyone, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Oh.” 

And Eddie watches how quickly the light disappears from Steve’s face. How quickly the smile fades and turns into a twisted frown. Steve pinches his nose and stands up. “I guess we were both wrong, then.”

[iguana-braces]

That sub!Jayce post really popped off, huh?

Ehehe okay here's my rambly thoughts about it (I'm literally sitting at work clocked out writing this instead of going home because THOUGHTS)

Building my theory off of this post:

And this one with all the examples of how Jayce's love language is clearly physical touch

*Disclaimer: there's a lot about season 2 that irked me in terms of plot and characterization so this is me retconning a little bit and picking and choosing what examples make the most cohesive argument. Like, in season one they're like "Jayce has this brotherly relationship with Caitlyn and him and Mel have this deep, meaningful relationship" and then season two was like "No more relationship building, it's time for trauma now" but, I digress*

First things first, he's a people pleaser. He does what he's told, clearly (against better judgment but like). And he's clearly committed to the people he cares about. HE BROUGHT VIKTOR BACK FROM THE DEAD (AND THEN KILLED HIM) AND THEN DIED WITH HIM AGAIN. You can't tell me that wouldn't translate to an "I'll do anything for you" attitude in the bedroom too.

I already did the bed gif but I also have to draw attention to the following:

Okay but season two, post-horrors!

Mr. Dopey Heart-Eyes McGee is NOT the one calling the shots here.

Season one Jayce? That man is whipped. One glance from his partner and he's on his knees like it's a religion. Whoever you ship him with! Mel, Viktor, both, a secret fourth option--

He spent an indeterminate amount of time alone, in the bottom of a pit. He's touch-starved but also! Traumatized!

Imagine, if you will, that he survives the astral plane. Imagine he goes to find Mel, or Viktor also survives, or imagine your own y/n, OC insert scenario here. Whatever floats your boat.

In such scenario, and in the aftermath of his self-awareness epiphany where he realizes that yeah, he's kinda been used (by everyone really), I think that in regards to any potential sexual relationship, he would have to become more dominant, more in control of the situation. Especially if it's with Mel, since he does pointedly blame her, or even Viktor, who has literally shaped the course of Jayce's entire life since he was a child. The man needs to set some boundaries with people and good for him.

So I think dominant, scruffy Jayce does have a time and a place.

However, I don't think he'd stay that way forever. It's kinda like him trying to be a politician-- it's a different role that he can pull off, but it doesn't fully scratch his itch.

BONUS HEADCANON: Wouldn't it be just so interesting if he survived the astral plane and goes back to whoever, and while he's looking for comfort and reassurance and all that physical contact he's been deprived of, he realizes that he really doesn't like people touching his head.

I hypothesize that in regards to canon relationships, Mel and/or Viktor, once they regain his trust and show that they're not trying to use him again, he's 100% going to be simping for them even worse than before. Like, that relationship would've gone through the fire and only come out stronger on the other side. You might even say it's been vulcanized.... 🤭

From the on, he can go back to letting his walls down around them and letting them be the dominant one because he knows there's solid trust and respect there now.

Feel free to agree or disagree 🤷‍♀️ also please feel free to tell me all your thots about this too!!!

He's got all this beautiful hair that needs to be tenderly pushed away from his eyes by a loving hand, but he's a little fucked up from the times Mannequin/Mage Viktor did that little murder mind meld.

Like, he put his head in Mel's lap TWICE, you know it would kill the man if he couldn't do that anymore because having someone's hands near his forehead is too reminiscent of... well, basically his death.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Worship

Summary: Geta confronts his spouse after a situation and the tables are turned in the way that he wasn't expecting.

Pairing: Geta x Gender - neutral reader

A/N: Yes the summary sucks and I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but please let me know if this was decent. I don't tend to write shorts or scenes that lead to more that often. I tried to make this gender neutral, hopefully I did okay 😅.

“Worship me!” 

Emperor Geta approached his spouse with a beast like hunger, his hand moved to grab their chin roughly. His dark brown eyes darkened as he forced their head to face him, searching their face for any sign of reluctance. Their eyes narrowed in indignation at the tone that their husband chose to speak to them, perhaps Geta was upset or a council meeting had not gone his way, but they refused to let him take out his frustration out on them and not think to speak about it. 

With a lack of response from his spouse, Geta repeated himself, “Are you deaf? You know I don’t like to repeat myself, I said worship me.”

"I heard you" they said. "But I don't care much for your tone and refuse to let you treat me this way.” 

Geta’s sharp gaze narrowed further still at their words, his temper flaring up in a matter of seconds. His fingers clamped down harder, the pads of his fingers tightening.

“Did I give you the impression I was asking for your consideration, beloved? No. I don’t care how the hell you like me to speak, you’re going to listen to what I say and do it without question.” 

They scowled and ripped away from him, "Keep speaking to me this way and acting as you are and I won't hesitate to cut off your cock.”

A snarl formed on the man’s face at their threat, it was uncommon for his spouse to be so blatant in their refusal. They were usually so docile in his presence and his requests. 

He clearly wasn’t happy.

“Is that a threat I hear?” He growled out, his fingers balling into a tight fist at his side. “You would dare make threats against your husband’s manhood?” 

"It seems like you are lacking it without my help,” they scoff. "You can't speak to me curtly with no explanation and expect me to treat you with respect you aren't giving me.”

That snapped the man’s self control and the look in his eyes turned feral in an instant, his hand shooting out to wrap around their throat as he took the last few steps towards them. He pinned them against the nearest wall, his body pressing forward to trap them between him and the cold surface.

“You insolent little -.” He hissed, his grip on their neck constricting. “How many times do I have to warn you not to speak that way to me? I am your husband.”

They smirk and pressed closer, "Go ahead, do your worst, husband.”

A dangerous look flashed through the man’s eyes as he leaned in closer, his body practically flush against them. The anger, the lust, the need. It was all swirling around inside him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. He’d always thought their spouse was cute when they fought back.

“You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? I should teach you a lesson, beloved.”

Their hand reached out and tugged at the belt of his robe, "Do you think I deserve to be punished?"

A shiver ran up his spine as he felt them tugging on the belt of his robe. His self control was a mere thread at this point, the sound of his heavy breath filling the air between them.

“You’re damn right,” he responded gruffly, his hands moving to loosen the tie of his robe just enough for the sash to fall open. The fabric of his robe hung open, exposing a strip of the bare skin of his chest. “On your knees, now.” 

They hum in thought, "I don't think so, husband.” They stepped away from Geta and moved to sit comfortably on the edge of their shared bed. "I think it's you that needs to do some groveling.”

His expression darkened the moment they stepped away, his eyes narrowing once again. He’d been so close to them, so damn close to having them under him where he wanted. But they just had to be difficult.

“Me on my knees?” He repeated incredulously, taking a couple of steps in their direction. “You expect me, a god, the Great Emperor himself, to grovel? You must be delusional.”

They crook a finger and teasingly requests him closer, "But aren't I your spouse and therefore a god in need of worshipping?"

He paused and growled in frustration as they beckoned him closer with that teasing crook of their finger. 

But they were right.

They were the spouse of the Emperor, another god in the flesh. He let out a sigh before slowly approaching them, his hands moving to rest on their thighs as he stood in front of them.

“Damn you. You know I can never resist when you say things like that.”

They wrap their arms around his neck and give him a sultry smile, "But you love me for it, don't you?"

A shiver ran down his spine again as their arms wrapped around his neck, their smile was just as powerful as their words against him. A slow smirk formed on his face as his hands skimmed up the length of their thighs, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of their own robe.

“Yes,” he purred out, his gaze flickering between their face and the cleavage of the robe. “I love you, but you know just how to drive me insane.”

"Well?" they say. "How do you intend on worshipping your god? Or will I have to find myself another.”

A dark look flashed through his eyes at the mention of his spouse finding another to worship them in the way only he should. Geta would sooner cut his way through an army of men before he let that happen. They were his, no one else’s. His hands gripped their thighs tighter, fingers digging into the plump flesh as he lowered himself to his knees before them.

“You’re not going to find another,” he growled out, his hands moving underneath the fabric of their robe as he looked up at them. “I’m the only one worthy enough to worship a god like you.”

They cup his face and smirk, "Then worship.”

[rebo-chan]

Something I was thinking about lately is Tsuna's daddy issues. Specifically this frame.

Like that's such a loaded thing to think about. He's got so much resentment built up. Obviously, there's no direct connection to any of Tsuna's issues made but I think a few fun things can be said from this. In general, Tsuna clearly didn't have a father figure in his life which sorta results in him leaning on Reborn pretty often. Tsuna doesn't have a very stable self-esteem with him going from confident to "Aah, Gokuderas going to become disillusioned with me now that all my flaws have been pointed out." GOKUDERA. His FIRST SUBORDINATE. The guy who literally has been LOYAL FROM DAY ONE. Not that we consider them canon, but this happens also during the filler arcs where Daemon points out that Tsuna's not worth following to Gokudera and it seems to make Tsuna a little antsy. He DOES NOT THINK THE PEOPLE HE LOVES ARE GOING TO STAY WITH HIM, THIS IS LITERALLY RUINING MY LIFE. What Daddy Issues DO TO A MF. But that's a post for another day. But okay, back to Reborn, Reborn proves himself to be immovable from Tsuna's life. The story points out that Tsuna very much has two fathers. The one who won't leave and the one who is always gone. Tsuna really leans on Reborn throughout the series. "Reborn, what do I do?" Is a common thing he says, until Reborn is literally swept away from him against his will in Future arc where he's forced to think that he's half a person in Reborns absence. Meanwhile, we have Iemitsu who Tsuna has resentment built up towards, does not respect, and is forced to acknowledge in order to win his fight. Throughout the rainbow arc battle, they try to point out that Iemitsu is trying to teach Tsuna something here and unless I'm confused (someone feel free to tell me?) it's not really clear WHAT that is. And I've always thought that was neat, because it's obviously coming from Tsuna's inability to respect Iemitsu enough to want to learn anything from him. Yet when Reborn comes in, hell he doesn't even recognize him in his Adult form, but he politely listens and takes his advice seriously. In the grand scheme of the series, Reborn is a good teacher and father figure in his life. When Tsuna is made to feel like that he can't do anything in Reborn's absence during Future, Reborn takes a step back in that arc and lets him learn to survive without his guidance. (Notice how the training almost entirely disappears after Future.) He lets him learn how to be a person without him, only stepping in to help when Tsuna really needs it. When he's unable to light his flame, with Spanner, or when he's freaking out about the Irie reveal, the list really goes on. There's a scene I recall I believe when Yuni asks to join their group, Tsuna still turns to ask Reborn what to do, and Reborn redirects him by asking him what he wants to do. That it was his call as a boss. And Tsuna ends up making the decision to help her off his own accord.

It's with Reborn's guidance that Tsuna ends up learning to be his own person, it's this guidance that allows him to make the decision and gather everyone on his own accord when it was Reborn's turn to be shaky and give up. Where Tsuna tells him that he's got this under control, without his guidance. To just watch him. "you've always knew I could win before." It's this arc where Reborn's pride in Tsuna shines. Multiple times. "Surprise me again, Tsuna." And he does. It's in Reborn's second absence where Tsuna feels himself get shaky again, feels the old feelings of poor self image crop up, that Reborn comes back. Because Reborn is not Iemitsu, and he wasn't someone who left him in that house alone forever. Because he's still young and has much to learn before he's ready to do this on his own. It's at this he feels a little embarrassed about how glad he is that Reborn came back, but then recalls the "mean words" that Reborn said before leaving. It's here that Reborn tells him it's a good thing he hasn't changed much. Another sliver of guidance that Tsuna takes in from the figure in his life that won't leave him alone in that house.

[megistusdiary]

𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 + 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨

𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘥𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘢, 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘰, 𝘻𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪, 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺, & 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘯𝘨

i was bored and thinking about some of my faves...so i put together a list of my favorite kinks and sorted my faves into them <3

this is quite long, a bit of a doozy, and very self-indulgent

i am also open to discussion or any thoughts on these or other things...teehee

warnings: 18+ content (mdni), dom and switch characters only, no implied reader gender!

mentions of: asphyxiation, size/strength kink, bondage, praise, degradation, marking, breeding kink

𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘹𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

giving

arlecchino, yelan, wriothesley, rosaria

i think arlecchino likes to have complete obedience. but, she also just loves the feeling of her hand on your throat, feeling every little sound through the vibrations, every swallow and gulp. and, of course, all the trust you put into her when you let her grip your throat.

yelan...especially with leashes and collars. she's wrapping it tighter around her fist and yanking. hard.

wriothesley's got big, beautiful hands perfect for your neck. he's also one of the ones who really appreciates how much you trust him with this.

rosaria would probably like the feeling of power ngl. her claws leave little indents or scratches in your skin, unless she is merciful and removes them beforehand.

recieving

wriothesley, zhongli

sorry, i'm on my switch zhongli/wriothesley agenda here guys.

wrio probably loves being controlled just as much as controlling so wrap your hands around his neck and he is gone

zhongli would probably worry too much about hurting you to go as far as putting his hand on your neck...but he would love it if you did it to him (if you really did hurt him, he's an archon, and he will just move you)

𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦/𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

zhongli, wriothesley, dehya, arlecchino

dragon zhongli loves feeling big compared to you, i think.

wriothesley is huge, as we all know. he would love to just drape himself over you, completely covering you and pressing you down with his weight.

dehya's a merc who wields a claymore constantly. i just KNOW she's buff and has abs...idc what the in-game model says, they lie!! and she loves to use her strength to her advantage

arlecchino is a harbinger, and was ready to take down an archon, so i just know she's strong

𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦

giving

yelan, ningguang, zhongli, wriothesley

once again...yelan with leashes and collars

ningguang i could see being really into shibari and tying you up super pretty like a little gift for her on her bed/desk

zhongli would also probably be into really intricate bondage on you, makes his dragon brain think of you like some treasure for his hoarde

wrio and handcuffs...come on

receiving

wriothesley, dehya

wrio and handcuffs...it goes both ways

dehya gives me switch vibes, too. she would LOVE it if you tied her hands down while you took control

𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 vs 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

likes to give praise

arlecchino, zhongli, wriothesley, dehya, ningguang

arlecchino 100% treats you so well...i know they say she's crazy, but she's only crazy because she would do anything for her own reasons...and if you are important to her, she would do anything for you!!! (i'm delusional)

zhongli definitely likes to give praise...you're just so sweet to him, how could he not?

wrio seems like the type to praise you often. he deals with horrible people and criminals all day, and it gets so exhausting being so tough all the time

dehya likes to praise, but also be teasing about it. she likes it when you get embarrassed over her being sweet on you

when you behave, ningguang will shower you with gifts and praise for being such a good partner

likes to recieve praise

wriothesley, zhongli, dehya

just call wriothesley a good boy...i know he likes it

zhongli was definitely used to all the praise he received for years as an archon, and even now, people talk him up. they respect him, obviously. but you're the one he seeks for respect from the most. give it to him, and he will melt.

i just think dehya likes to be told how much you love her. tell her every little thing you love about her.

degrader

rosaria, yelan, ningguang

oh, i just know rosaria's calling you a bunch of names, saying filthy stuff while she has you doing exactly what she wants. she knows you love it, and it gives her an outlet to release her stress and frustration. she might be so so mean, but you're guaranteed to be a fucked out mess at the end

yelan just wants to see you break before her very eyes. the sky is the limit, and she will push past it into space just to have you all embarrassed and falling over yourself to please her

remember how i said she likes praise when you're good? well when you're bad, ningguang pulls out all the stops. no gifts, no nice words, no nice treatment; that's only for when you behave appropriately. when you're naughty, she's probably taking you right over her desk, and all of her degrading words are said so loudly everyone can hear it and she loves it

degradee

wriothesley

i know wrio is all alone here, but i just think he's that type of switch!! he would love it if you hold him down (even if you're much smaller/weaker than him) and just call him filthy names. bonus points if you put a 'my' before anything you say...

𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨

giving

rosaria, yelan, wriothesley, zhongli, arlecchino, ningguang, dehya

rosaria likes leaving lipstick marks, scratches, hickies, bruises, you name it. she loves seeing them on you the next day. she wants everyone to see, but nobody should dare ask any questions~!

yelan leaves lipstick marks all over you...she loves leaving hickies all over your neck and shoulders too. you're all hers.

wriothesley is a big guy, unless he's treating you like glass, he's probably gonna leave some bruises. once you tell him you like it though...it's all fair game. definitely a biter too!!

as we know, zhongli and his dragon thoughts...you are his, just as he is yours, but he just can't help the thoughts of biting into your shoulder, leaving deep marks that you see every morning when getting dressed, and every evening before bed.

arlecchino is definitely strong...i think she's hiding some muscles under her fancy coat. she holds you down so firmly, she's gonna leave some bruises. she gets busy with leaving hickies everywhere, but strategically placed ever so slightly below your shirt collar or waistband..

while ningguang prefers her skin to be completely and perfectly unblemished, you're not leaving without some marks on you. she likes leaving them in places nobody can see, but she's all too aware of exactly every spot she left hickies...

dehya just loves seeing her marks all over you. she'll leave hickies anywhere you let her: neck, shoulders, chest, thighs, you name it. and, yes, she wants to see them. she wants everyone to see them and have no doubt in their minds who was responsible

receiving

wriothesley, zhongli, yelan, dehya

wriothesley wants you to leave hickies on his neck, purposefully having you put them where everyone can see! also scratch down his back. he's already got scars, but these ones are special to him. you'll catch him admiring them in the mirror

zhongli likes it when you mark him right back. you are his, but he's yours too, so please bite him back!! his fingers subconsciously rest over your bite...even if it doesn't last as long as the one he leaves on you...you'll just have to keep remarking him! oh, and yes, he also wants you to scratch your nails into his back

i would venture to assume that while yelan loves marking you up, she wants you to do the same. she has a claim on you, so you better fight to show her your claim on her. if she ever acts annoyed by hickies you leave, she's secretly so enamored by how much you want everyone to know she's yours

dehya wants your marks on her, duh. she's got scars, sure, and they carry stories. she wants your marks so she can carry you with her everywhere.

𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

zhongli, wriothesley, arlecchino

for the final time i will repeat it: dragon zhongli. it's in his primal instincts to fill you up. while he has matured much since his youth, he still holds some of those innate desires. you just awaken them in him...he loves watching his essence drip from you before pushing it back in. almost like another form of marking for him.

for wriothesley, it's all about the intimacy between you two. he likes mumbling to you about filling you up with him. he wants you pressed as close to him as possible. it's just how you're full of him, dripping with him, you know?

arlecchino runs an orphanage, she's constantly around kids. she's literally called father all day. she raises kids, and if she could give you some of your own, well...regardless of whether she can fill you up with her essence or not, she likes to talk you through it as if she is. she'll certainly fuck you like that's the goal.

well...if you made it this far into my dump of thoughts, let me know of yours in my askbox xoxoxo

i need more people to discuss with :(((

[ratindividual]

As someone with a mild disability to the knee and can't walk very long without feeling pain all through the leg and hip, people saying Viktor's own is a flaw and need to be cured asap because it's painful kinda misses the point of it all.

When Jayce said this:

He's not saying Viktor shouldn't have tried to find a cure to the pain or any ailment, he is saying Viktor was not flawed because he is disabled, which is what Viktor think.

"[...] what you thought were weaknesses." this is important to note, Jayce here doesn't share the same sentiment, he does not think it as a weakness, but part of a whole package that comes with someone (in that case, Viktor) Jayce took him like he was, and adored him.

A weakness is something you need to destroy before it gets to you, and sometimes, you will do unspeakable things to achieve it.

Viktor was never broken, imperfections make who he is, and by definition, makes every human.

Perfection does not exist, it is our emotions, our contradictions, our differences that make it incredible, human being are messy by design, we are a collectivity of incredibly diverse people and deserve respect!

It is not a flaw, it's a condition he lives with, which makes him singular, and that same disability constructed who he is, too: his drive, his mind, his resilience, his care and utter empathy for others, which are traits that Jayce admire most of it all!!! He says it himself:

It is his heart, his humanity, everything that Viktor think as a nuisance, that Jayce wants to preserve. He loves him for it, instead of despite it, and he finds him beautiful, both physically and mentally, it was never a question for him!

His unwavering compassion to push further, his ambitions, because he loves him. Jayce is an emotional, empathetic man, he values connection above all, and he understands.

He's saying Viktor has always been perfect to him because of it all. We humans are flawed, this is the inevitability of being conscious and alive.

Which is why this, this is very important:

Jayce knows Viktor, at this point, had lost his way. Empathy cannot work under the false prism of selflessness if it makes you believe that choice is an illusion, thus making it for others.

Jayce believes in choices, and knows that the people Viktor saves are, by proxy, unable to have any agency over their own fate, which is exactly the most important theme going on with Viktor throughout all two seasons. Viktor wants to take back control over his own self, while simultaneously pushing this on others who need help too.

I am convinced Jayce would have been more than fine with Viktor tweaking himself because he wants it, he was on board in season 1, he actually made the change himself in a misguided attempt to save the man he loves at the start of season 2. (which is very interesting, considering his feelings made him do something he himself sanctions such as resurrecting his soulmate, I love his contradictions so much)

He understands the desperation, the want to have a better life. But he doesn't want it to strip other's people individuality and Viktor's own sense of self, ripping his heart out for the sake of flawlessness.

He knows, too, the price of the perfect world Viktor wants to create. An endless loop of loneliness, mourning a man that is but a shell of himself, conscious through the hive but not him. His essence gone. A cross too heavy to bear.

And yet, Jayce never stopped loved him, never stopped fighting for him to understand how much he values him and respects him, worshiping the literal ground under his feet!!

Even in his godly form, he is head over heels for him!!! Look at how Viktor looks!! While talking face to face with this Eldritch incarnation, he remembers how Viktor used to look down memory lane, and it was still as majestic and grandiose, even!

It's why he confesses in the first place. He is in love with him through it all. His body changed, but it is still Viktor. He loves him wholly, every part of him! No matter where it takes them, no matter what he looks like.

Jayce loves Viktor with everything he has and no matter what comes their way. An unwavering, tangible loyalty.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI🔞

Main Masterlist here 

Whispered Vows Masterlist here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything. 

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments,  Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up

A/N:  It's my birthday today! So, I shall give you the epilogue. I also want to give a big thank you to all you beautiful readers who have gone on this journey with me. Thank you so much!

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

Five months later….

Your reception was held inside the winery that you found seven months ago. Round lights were strung around the beams on the ceiling, emitting a warm amber glow. Round tables with white table cloths were scattered about the floor where your guest could rest and talk amongst themselves as they enjoyed the wine, water, beer, or whatever their drink of choice was. Mingling with one another as they enjoyed their night.

You…you were on the dance floor with Yoongi enjoying a moment between the two of you. Him in his perfectly pressed black tux and you in the monstrous marshmallow tulle dress with beaded bodice. The rough surface of the bodice slightly scratched your inner arm as the two of you swayed slowly together. Dancing closely together as Seungkwan and Jungkook belted out a song on a small makeshift stage with bright lights shining down on them. You smile up at Yoongi as you take in the moment. This perfect moment, that you wouldn't actually believe worked out the way it did. 

You and your sister had grown even closer following your wedding at the apple orchard. The two of you had many talks about your mother, who was still trying to take over wedding decisions while also planting small seeds of doubt in your head about Yoongi being a good husband. You just couldn't take it anymore. With your sister by your side, the two of you showed up on her doorstep unannounced. You mustered enough bravery and finally confronted her. You told her Yoongi wasn't going anywhere, and if she wanted to be a part of your new family, she needed to respect that. No more talking bad about him. No more pushing herself into your life. No more trying to control your wedding. She needed to let you and your sister be and let you live your lives. 

Your sister had stepped in, telling her that if she did not adhere to these boundaries, then she could forget about seeing the two of you. She could forget about meeting any future grandbabies and being called grandma. The two of you would cut her completely off. You were quite surprised that she didn't fight back. Your mom had just sat down on her couch, not saying a word as she stared at the floor. It took her a couple of minutes before she agreed. 

The three of you got on a waitlist to start therapy together the same day.

The weeks that followed were busy, and your mom stayed true to her word to back off. You and Yoongi started moving into your home, which didn't leave a lot of time for you to continue with the wedding plans. When you approached your mom for help, she was hesitant but stepped in when you needed her. You let her choose that tableware for the reception along with the table placements for the reception.  She had constantly checked in, making sure you were happy with her decisions before finalizing them. She never tried to overstep and always did what you asked of her with no extra suggestions coming from her. She even found you a photographer who gave you a great discount. She introduced him as a friend of hers, but you think they might be dating. You were happy to accept his offer. 

You got the shock of a lifetime when your sister delivered you a handwritten letter at lunch one day from your mother addressed to Yoongi. When you gave it to him, he disappeared for a while in his home studio. You wanted so badly to follow him, but instead, you gave him space and waited for him to come to you. Eventually, after an hour, he appeared again and let you read it. It was an apology. She apologized for how she treated you. Apologized for how she treated him back when he was with your sister. She thanked him for always taking care of you. 

He said he could work on trying to forgive her, but he needed to do it on his own time. You didn't push him. No, you gave him a kiss and thanked him for all the years he was patient and understanding. 

Later that night, you sat on your bed, looking at your wedding dress bag that was hanging in your closet. You loved that dress, but you were willing to take one for the team.  You texted your mom if her offer still stood on buying you the dress she loved so much.  You laugh when she sends you a picture of it hanging in her own closet. Of course, she bought it anyway.  You wouldn't expect anything different. 

“Will I be able to tear this one off you?” Yoongi whispers against your ear. 

“No,” you say with a laugh. “However, you might be able to tear what's underneath it off.”

“Oh?” He asks with a smirk. “And what exactly is underneath this.”

“You'll have to wait to find out,” you tease and press your lips against his. 

Yoongi chuckles, spinning you out and back into his arms. Your wedding was beautiful. Your dad walked you down the aisle. Yoongi had finally settled his groomsmen problem. Jimin, his best man, walked with Lisa of course.  Due to Jin and Hobi not being able to settle who gets the second spot, Yoongi recruited Seungkwan. You think he might have started to cry when he accepted the offer. In the end, he was able to walk with Jisoo. It was perfect. 

“I didn't know Seungkwan could sing,” Yoongi comments.

“I did,” you say, looking at the two men on the stage, giving it all they had as they sang into the microphones. 

“I should try and get him in the studio,” he comments, and you slap his shoulder. 

“No talking about work,” you tell him with a  small smile. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders with a smile, but his eyes flicker over your shoulder. “Lisa and Jisoo are trying to get your attention. 

You turn and look in the direction of Yoongi stare. You two best friends, who are actually more like your sisters, were waving frantically at you. You nod your head at them and wave back in acknowledgment. With a sigh, you turn back to your husband. 

“I have to go talk to them,” you say. “You should go mingle.”

“I don't want to mingle,” he pouts.

“Too bad,” you tell him, and you look around. “Look, Mingyu's getting a drink. Go say hi and bond over something.” 

You give him a quick kiss on the cheek and walk away before he can say anything else. You smile and wave at guests as you pass by them quickly. You didn't want to mingle either. You were on a mission, and you didn't want to be slowed down. When you reach your two friends, the three of you walk out of the reception area and down the hallway. Lisa opens a heavy wooden door and turns on the light. The bathroom wasn't that big considering there were three of you and one big dress crammed in there. 

“Hurry, I've been holding it for like an hour,” you say as you grit your teeth. 

“Sorry, traffic was bad, and there was a long line,” Jisoo apologized. 

Lisa pulled a flattened box out of her dress and slammed in on the counter. The three of you look at it and don't say a word. You couldn't believe that you were doing this here. Suddenly, a knock on the bathroom door made the three of you jump and look at the closed wooden door. 

“What's going on in there?” your sister's voice asked. 

Lisa opened the door and grabbed your sister's arm, pulling her into the room. She looked at the three of you like you were crazy. It wasn't until her eyes landed on the box that her eyes widened.  

“Oh my…” she started, but Lisa cut her off. 

“Can it,” Lisa said. “Stay and be supportive or leave and say nothing. Now, let's lift that dress and pee on the stick.”

You open the box, taking the testing applicator out before moving over to the toilet. Jisoo and Lisa gather your dress, lifting it up as you pull your underwear down. Peeing on a pregnancy test wasn't on your bingo card for the wedding, but yet here you were. It was weird urinating in front of people, but in the end, you wouldn't choose anyone else to do it in front of. Pulling the test from between your legs, you place the cap on it and set it on the sink. 

“Three minutes,” Lisa says, setting a timer on her phone. 

“I've been on birth control for years,” you say as you wash your hands. “I don't understand.” 

“He must have some strong swimmers,” Lisa comments with a nod of her head. 

“The pill is only 99% effective,” Jisoo says. “There's plenty of reasons for you to miss your period. This doesn't mean you are pregnant.”

“You've been moving and planning the wedding. Stress can definitely cause a late period,” your sister explains. 

You wish that helped ease your worry, but you can feel it in your guts that it’s positive. You've been extra tired. Peeing more than normal. Your boobs hurt like a bitch. Even the wedding dress seems to fit just a tad bit more snug than it did two months ago. You can't explain everything away being caused by stress. Lisa's alarm going off snapped you out of your thoughts and looked at the test on the sink. 

“Two lines means positive,” Lisa says, and she watches you. 

With a shaky hand, you close your eyes and pick the plastic applicator off the white porcelain sink. You don't think that you have ever been this nervous. Nervous doesn't even cover what you are feeling right now. Your first time with Yoongi, you were nervous. Your weddings, you were nervous. Right now, you are utterly terrified. Opening your eyes, you look down. 1 line…2 lines. There were two goddamn lines. Two perfectly straight pink lines. Two very bold pink lines. 

“Oh my god,” your sister whispers as she looks over your shoulder. 

“Y/N,” Jisoo says softly. 

Your vision blurs with tears threatening to fall. What will Yoongi think? How did this happen? You don't think that you missed any pills. Your little foil packet was on track. Those two pink lines just changed everything. 

“Sweets?” Lisa questions. 

“Do I tell him right now?” You ask. “We leave for our honeymoon tomorrow. We leave early. I…I…”

“Don't tell him now,” Lisa says, shaking her head. 

“You should absolutely tell him,” Jisoo says, disagreeing. “I thought you guys agreed to open and honest communication.”

“He probably won't want to go to Italy if he knows. He will be too worried about her traveling,” Lisa argues. “Don't tell him.” 

“Tell him on the honeymoon,” your sister suggests. “It would be special.” 

She's right it would be special. You can see the two of you inside the secluded stone faced villa. Surrounded by the green hills of the countryside, just the two of you. The only thing you can't see is his reaction. What if you ruin it all?

“We should go back out there before people notice that I'm gone,’ you say quietly as you hide the test and box in the trash can.

Trying to act as normal as you can, the four of you walk casually out of the bathroom and down the hall. Your eyes scan the room. They land on Yoongi and Mingyu in what appears to be a serious conversation. Your sister links her arm with yours, and you take off for your men. You just can't believe that you are here right now. Married to your sister's ex-boyfriend. Pregnant. Pregnant with your sister's ex-boyfriend's baby. Above all this, she is happy for you. What a wild ride!

“What's going on here?” Your sister asks as she wraps her arms around her fiance.

“Just talking about a possible nonprofit organization,” Yoongi answers, as he pulls you close. “Everything okay?” 

“Perfect,” you lie and steal a glance at your sister, who is giving a stiff nod. “How much longer is this party going to last?” 

“You have about another hour,” your sister answers, looking at her watch. You and Yoongi groan at the same time, causing the other couple to laugh. “Start making your rounds for goodbyes. Then you will leave quicker when it's over.”

Agreeing with your sister, you and Yoongi bid them a goodbye before moving onto the other guests, which were mainly Yoongi's family. They were sweet, but they wanted to talk your ears off. The both of you just stood there awkwardly nodding your head as they went on and on about how beautiful the wedding was. Thankfully, his mom ushered the two of you away when the conversations went on too long before sending you to your next guests. Your father and his girlfriend gave you hugs and handshakes before your dad slipped Yoongi an envelope. When he opened it, you saw money inside. 

“You already gave a wedding gift,” you said as you looked between the two of them. “You got us new furniture.”

“Well you wouldn't let me contribute to the wedding. So, have fun in Italy,” he smirks, clapping Yoongi on the back before they walk away hand in hand. 

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders and pockets the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. Your mother approaches you next. She wraps you in a big hug before she moves away to hug Yoongi but pulls back at the last minute. Yoongi looks at you for a moment before he opens his arms for her. You want to cry as she steps in again to give him a quick hug. 

“You two take care of each other,” she says,  pulling away. “Let me know when you make it to your rental.” 

With a kiss to your forehead, your mother leaves you alone to continue your goodbyes. Tae and Jungkook pull the both of you into a group hug, much to Yoongi displeasure. You just laugh happily, enjoying it all. Hobi steals you away from the group, picking you off your feet as he wraps his arms around you. Yoongi was still stuck between the other two men. Jin, not wanting to be outshone, kisses your hand telling you how beautiful you were before spinning and dipping you. Yoongi was still stuck between the two younger friends. Namjoon comes next, giving you a quick side hug before pulling your husband away, rescuing him.  Yoongi hurries to you while glaring at Tae and Kook. Everyone besides him laughs. 

“Well, you better take a lot of pictures,” Lisa says, coming to stand by you with Jimin at her side. “I want to live vicariously through you since someone won't take me anywhere.”

“Hey, I took  you out to eat last night,” Jimin said, defending himself. 

“Vicariously? That's a big word for you,” Yoongi comments, ignoring Jimin to get a jab at Lisa. 

“You are so funny,” Lisa deadpans. Lisa wraps her arms around you tightly as Jimin and Yoongi do some bro hug thing. “It's going to be fine.” She whispers in your ear, and you nod. 

Finally, you make your way to Jisoo and Seungwan. She looks between you and Yoongi with a slight question in her gaze. You subtly shake your head no, and she nods in understanding before hugging you securely in her arms. 

“Make sure you try as much food as you can,” Seungkwan says. “I'll send you a list of restaurants that have glowing reviews.”

“Thank you, Seungkwan,” you say, pulling away from Jisoo and hugging him next. 

“When we get back, we need to talk about getting you into the studio to record something,” Yoongi tells him seriously. 

“Well, sure,” Seungkwan says as he turns red at Yoongi words before he turns to look at his girlfriend. “I could be famous.” 

“Thanks Yoongi,” Jisoo said with a shake of her head. 

Yoongi just laughs and pulls her into a quick hug. Jisoo pats him on the back awkwardly in return. You laugh at her before you let your eyes scan the room. After all the stress and drama this wedding brought you were completely happy with the result. You were married to the love of your life. You mended your relationships with your family, and now you're growing your own little family.  Now, the only hurdle is to tell him, and you will. Eventually. You place your hand on your stomach. Eventually. 

You didn't let him tear off your dress. As gaudy as you thought it was, you wanted to preserve it just like your first one. You thought maybe your future children would like to keep them. A little piece of the two special days that you could hand down to them. A small part in your love story that they could possibly keep forever in whatever capacity that may be. 

Yoongi kneels at the end of the bed, staring at you in contemplation. It makes you feel nervous. It feels like he knows that you are hiding something. You watch as he bites his bottom lip and smirks at you. Hovering over you, he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb before slowly running his hand down your chest and squeezing your breast confined in your new white lacy bra.  Pressing his lips to yours, he groans lightly into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “I think your tits are bigger.” 

“That's silly,” you whisper against his mouth. “It must be the bra.” 

“Maybe I should take a closer look,” he jokes and kisses down the path his hand just took.  Pulling the lacy cups down Yoongi takes a nipple in his mouth, curling his tongue around your hardened peak before massaging your neglected breast before licking a wet tail across the middle of your breast and nuzzling your bare breasts.  “I don't think it's the bra.” 

“If you say so,” you say breathlessly, denying his comments. 

“I swear you get more and more beautiful every day,” he says as he unhooks your bra and flings it somewhere off to the side. His fingers venture down to the front of your matching lace panties, and he grips them tightly as he fists the material. “You said I could tear them off, correct?” 

“Yes,” you moan out in anticipation.

With a firm grip and a heated gaze, Yoongi yanks hard, and the material bites into your skin as a tearing sound fills the room. The right side of your undergarment falls away from your body. He proceeds to pull them off, pulling the ruined fabric down your opposite leg and tossing them carelessly.

Chuckling lightly, Yoongi rubs his face against the meat of your inner thigh. Pressing his lips to your soft flesh, he trails his lips up and over the white garter with a little black bow that adorns your left thigh. Smirking at you, he moves to hover over your body before molding his mouth to yours. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, you moan as it presses against your own. His hand runs up and down your leg before stopping at snapping your garter.

“We will leave this on,” he whispers against your lips. 

Yoongi's fingertips ghost over the skin of your leg as he makes his way to your most intimate spot. Using his middle finger, he rubs your entrance up and down before settling on your bundle of nerves. You gasp as he makes contact with his finger. His digit lightly drawing figure eights against your clit as he shoves his tongue back in your mouth.  He adds his ring finger, applying more pressure and speed as he circles them round and round. Pulling away from your mouth, he sits back on his knees before he finally enters your core with the same two fingers. 

“I need you,” you say breathlessly. “Yoongi please, I need you.”

“Are you sure you're ready?” he asks as his brow furrows slightly in concern. 

“Yes,” you whine. 

“You've become a demanding little thing, haven't you?” He teases, laughing a little bit. Leaning over you, he kisses your jawline up to your ear. “I like that,” he growls before giving in to your demands. 

You arch your back as you feel his hardened member enter you slowly and shallowly before Yoongi pulls back, leaving only the tip in place. You see his eyes flicker over your face to gauge your reaction before slowly pushing back in until you are completely joined. You close your eyes at the feeling of complete fullness. The push of his hips is slow and gentle after he pauses for a couple of seconds, giving you a moment to adjust to him. It was cute how he took such great care of you. However, that was not what you wanted at this exact moment. No, you can save for another day when he will probably be too worried to hurt you and the little one inside of you. Nope, not today. 

Placing your hands on his chest, you gently push at him until he pulls out of you. You quickly move to your knees and point to the bed. He raises his eyebrow at you, but he follows your silent command. You wait as he settles down against the pillows on your brand new bed. Throwing your leg over his hips, you grab his hard cock and sink down onto him. Yoongi's tongue presses to the side of his cheek as his eyes focus on your chest.  His hands trail up your side and lightly grasp your fuller breasts. They are quite tender but you don't stop him. 

Grabbing onto the headboard, you start to grind your hips back and forth against his own. His head tilts back as you gain speed as his mouth falls open slightly in pleasure. You close your eyes and let your own head fall forward, causing your hair to fall over your face. 

“Fucking look at me,” Yoongi demands and your head snaps up to look at him. “Hold on tight.”

You grip the dark brown wood as he plants his feet flat on the bed. With his hands on your hips, he thrusts up into you. Using all the strength you could muster, you meet each of his thrusts. Your ass hastily meets his thighs as his hips pound into you from below. The sound of your skin slapping, both of you panting with heaving chests. It was erotic. It was dirty. It was everything that you needed.

“Yoongi…I…I need..” You need something. What is it that you need? You have no idea. He feels too good. It's so good that you can't even form a complete sentence. 

“Keep riding me,” he growls. “I got it.”

Pressing his thumb on your clit, he hastily rubs harsh circles making you bounce a little faster trying to reach your high. Your thighs start to burn, sweat starts to drip down from your hairline but you refuse to lose focus. Moving your hands back to rest against his knees, you move to rest on your feet. Knees wide, your sway and rock your hips as fast as you can while leaned back, supporting yourself with your arms.

“Fucking, perfect,” he pants as his fingers still work thier magic rubbing against your clit. 

“Oh, god, yes,” you moan, leaning back further. His tip kisses your sweet spot with every drag of his cock against your hot wet walls. You fight the urge to close your knees at the feeling but you were losing the fight. Your knees finally start to give into the urge but Yoongi knocks them open with one his hands so they don't obstruct his view of his cock sinking into your wetness over and over again “I…can't…”

Yoongi is up in a flash, pushing 2 pillows under your hips as he lays you back. Yoongi grabs the back of your knees, spreading you wide open as he continues to thrust inside of you, not missing a beat. His pelvic bone hits your bundle of nerves with every slap. He continues to  catch your g spot with each expertly angled thrust that sends tingles shooting up your spine. You look up at him. His hair wet with his sweat, swaying over his forehead. His teeth biting into his bottom lip, trying to hold off for you. He is the pure embodiment of every fantasy that you have ever had. You're living, breathing fantasy.

Yoongi suddenly moves and crosses your ankles around the back of his neck while holding your legs straight against his body. The change causes your body to raise off the pillows, angling his hips for even deeper penetration. You cry out and grab at one of the pillows by your head as you feel yourself start to tighten around him.  

“Shit, baby,” Yoongi grunts breathlessly. With the sound of his raspy voice,  your world explodes, and your body stiffens. The stars, the fireworks, the flames all hit at once as your pussy grips his cock, pulsating and coating him in your sweet essence. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You feel his body still in your haze as your legs fall limp. Lips pressing against your cheek finally brings you back to the moment. You can feel the sweat from his hair mingle with your flushed face. Panting breaths start to slow, his body collapsing at your side. His hand reaches out and  cups your face. You turn to look at him with a small smile. You're met with his half lidded gaze and a satisfied smirk. It makes you giggle a bit. His hand trails down your body before settling  on your stomach. Your heart jumps a little bit. You sigh, resting your own hand on top of his.

“Yoongi?” You ask quietly.

“Hmm,” he hums tiredly in response.  

“I…,” you start, but the words get stuck in your throat. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he answers before he kisses your cheek once more. “So fucking much.”

Yoongi rolls out of the bed and makes his way to the bathroom. You can hear him start the shower and tinker around in the cabinets. You look up at your ceiling and gently rub your stomach. Soon, you will tell him soon. 

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97 , @kam9404 , @svnbangtansworld , @futuristicenemychaos ,  @notarshia , @busanbby-jjk , @bontensbabygirl , @aretha170 , @granataepfelchen

[i-cant-cast-that-yet]

Listen, I had a whole diatribe typed out train of thought style on aroace shen yuan, but I miss clicked somewhere and now it's gone but while I'm too tired to rewrite it all I'll give yall the spark notes.

Please keep in mind, this is mostly based on my specific experiences with being aroace-- as I myself am, and also me hard-core projecting. If this comes off as strange, it's because I'm a little strange myself. Also this probably makes no fucking sense so good luck.

Aroace Shen Yuan:

He's aware of PIDW Binghe being archetypically "hot," but doesn't personally get the appeal. He's seen the fanart, he's read through the copious amounts of papapa in the novel, he's aware that Binghe is suave n sexy n mysterious and that on paper he's supposed to be a chick magnet, but naturally shen yuan is straight so He's not into it obviously.

And you know what? I really do believe that pre-transmigration shen yuan wasn't actually attracted to fictional binghe. Not even in a parasocial or subconscious way. He was, however, definitely obsessed with his blorbo. It was about his deep fascination with the specific trope inversion binghe represented. It's the one thing that kept shen yuan engaged when the novel gradually took a nosedive beyond anything resembling a self-respecting internal narrative and fell face first into weekly updates of binghe's conquests and escapades. It's about how much shen yuan loved to read about binghe having to use his wits to overcome his obstacles when his early life disadvantages came to rear their heads and keep him from blasting through all obstacles. His weaknesses eventually made him strong, and even though that plot point was likely the first to disappear with the in-world discovery of xin mo, the promise that binghe might retain that level of intrigue kept him worth slogging through the rest of the novel.

That, and the longer the story goes on, the more tragic binghe's narrative becomes and the more protective shen yuan feels; the more righteous indignation the narrative evokes in him. Binghe is disrespected by the very text he's borne from in the perversion of his original wants. Binghe wants a home, love, stability, respect from his peers, and most importantly, he wants security and the apologies he was denied as a young boy. As the story goes on, these desires are given solutions that don't address the root causes via endless harem drama. This is likely because of xin mo exacerbating binghe's insecurities and amplifying his need for dual cultivation to manage his own unstable meridians, but for an ace shen yuan, this reliance on not only sex but meaningless sex with wives who because of circumstances outside of anyone's control cannot truly give binghe any of the emotional consolation he needs to work past his own issues, must have been infuriating. Add on the layer of vague disgust at having to be essentially coerced by an evil sword to rely on sexual encounters for both your physical wellbeing via cultivation, but also as a thinly veiled imitation of a coping method for binghe's complete lack of control over his childhood circumstances, and then to watch those real issues get chopped up into monster of the week papapa with whatever new fetish bait wife airplane has cooked up for the masses? I'd go fuckin bonkers too, man.

All of this to say, I think when shen yuan dies and ends up as shen qingqiu and then meets young binghe, he's probably intensely second-hand guilty alongside his terror and confusion. This is his Little Guy, his Big Terrible Dude, all wrapped up into a doe eyed, bruised little boy that he's supposed to bully now under threat of death. This is the little boy with so much kindness in his heart and so many more reasons to hate instead. This boy hasn't chosen hatred yet, but now shen yuan has to play his part in incubating that choice towards anger and self destruction and there's nothing he can really do about it.

He tries, of course, because shen yuan isn't going to let some nebulous system strong-arm him into abusing a child, even if in the end he can't avoid the truest of damning events in the endless abyss, he tries because he can't stomach letting this boy hurt more than fate is bound to force him to hurt himself.

But I'm losing sight of the point here. Back to the aroace funny bit.

I think that within the text of the canon svsss novel, we have enough textual evidence to safely call shen yuan demi. Yes, that man is deeply repressed, but something about his specific flavor of fond, resigned acceptance to binghe's actions post canon in relation to their marital bed n whatnot, I think he's attracted to binghe, but I don't think he's like...*attracted* attracted. This is where the grey area really begins. There's a sort of attraction that as an ace person I like, conceptually experience. The idea of having someone being like, handsome and having big muscles, and being into you, etc, that's all well and good in a vacuum, but in reality? Rather not.

I'd like to posit the idea of shen yuan being eventually comfortable trying to open up both to himself and to binghe largely because for the longest time, shen yuan still has the internal feeling that nothing in this world is real.

That binghe is still, at his core, fictional.

Idk about yall, but attraction to fictional characters is so much more palatable than attraction to a real individual. Mind you, I am actively aroace, and I've never dated in my 23 years alive, so this is real projection hours, but I digress, I myself have had a handful of crushes in my runtime that I've never bothered to act on out of pure disinterest in the act of romantic or emotional connection with others.

When you can't see yourself wanting to engage with the full complexity of another person on such an intimate level, either emotionally or physically, but you still feel deeply attached to them on a level bordering obsession, its...disconcerting to say the least. I feel like if shen yuan cared so deeply for binghe, would put up with his clingyness and his antics and his possessiveness, but never fully saw him as real? It'd be devastating if binghe even found out, and shen yuan really doesn't want to hurt him, but he can't manufacture a feeling where it doesn't exist. He's devoted to binghe, he enjoys making binghe happy, he wants to be with binghe, but he knows he isn't feeling the way his wives were written to feel about binghe and that makes him worry.

Sure, he feels 'a frission of heat' or whatever bs airplane had yapped about occassionally, and binghe's muscles do indeed 'bulge provocatively' quite often, but it's not the same, dammit. He loves binghe, but he's not quite sure he's in love with being in love. He's attracted to binghe, but none of the tropes he's been pushed into by the system have done anything but make him roll his eyes and sidestep whatever papapa plot line he's stumbled into.

And just maybe, it all makes him feel like he doesn't actually love binghe, and that he's been lying to him all over again. That he's doing exactly what shen yuan tells himself he was forced to do against his will, and that he's chosen to hurt binghe this way.

What shen yuan doesn't understand is that binghe realized a long ass time ago that his shizun isn't a very romantic person, but he is nothing but caring. That his shizun may not be a typical lover, but that couldn't matter less in binghe's eyes because shen qingqiu is choosing to keep binghe around even when it so clearly goes against what feels natural to the other man because he simply wants to have him around.

There's a lot to be said around the idea of "ace people can still love," and how it leaves a bad taste in my mouth as a predominantly aromantic individual, but that's neither here nor there, but I think there's something even more impactful to be spoken about people who can't, don't, or won't love in a "normal" or "typical" fashion, but who still choose to hold space for another in their life. For those who find themselves in love with someone who can't quite love them back "properly," but who yearn so strongly that they take what they can get. For those who don't need flowers and declarations of undying love, but a listening ear and a willing companion to spend their days with.

...

Also I think it would drive bingge up the fucking WALL trying to seduce his not-shizun and pulling out all the stops only for literally none of it to work lmao.

Anyway I'm gonna go rot in a corner at work now, lmk if I should like, elaborate further on anything or delete this haha

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

[sage-green-matcha]

SHAMELESS - ETHAN LANDRY 🕷️

“I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to” - Camila Cabello

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: SMUT! P in V sex, Mean Ethan, kinda angry sex? Degrading kink, begging!

<3

<3

<3

“There’s just inches in between us. I want you to give in, I want you to give in”

The fact that you had to resist Ethan Landry was one of the hardest tasks you had to accomplish. His daily teasing didn’t make it any better, knowing that you would fold for him in a snap of his fingers. He only made the bet with you because he knew you would lose. But to his surprise, you had gone two months without even touching him.

You wanted to win, badly. The only way you could get both of the things you wanted was if he broke first. you wanted him to give in to you. To touch you in places nobody had ever seen. You craved his touch more than anything else.

“There is tension in between us. I just wanna give in. And I don’t care if I’m forgiven”

Multiple times you almost lost, losing all self-respect and control. The way his eyes scanned over your body made you go feral. The tension could be cut with a knife, everyone noticing.

They knew about the little bet. Even putting money on who would last longer. "Ethans definitely gonna break first. I mean look at her" Chad's laughter filled the room, Ethan letting out a small groan. He knew they were probably right. You were too proud and stubborn. But god, he wanted to give in to you more than anything.

“Right now I’m shameless. Screamin’ my lungs out for you. Not afraid to face it. I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to”

“That was a stupid bet” your voice came out shaky, cock drunk as you bit down on his shoulder. “You say that cause you lost” he groaned, thrusting his entire cock into you. Hands grabbed at your skin, desperate and needy for the feeling of pleasure.

“That’s..that’s not why” your voice came out angrily, your nails digging into his back as you bounced on his dick. Your breath became uneven, Ethan biting back his lip as his hands rested on your ass. “You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” You shook your head, denying the statement that was more than true. His hands gripped your thighs, stopping you from getting any more friction.

“No E, please! Come on” your whimpers filled his ears, trying to move yourself back up. It was no use, he was way bigger than you and he loved to use it to his advantage. “Say it, if you’re so desperate” his eyes were dark with lust, scanning your fucked out face. “I’m a slut for you” “Good girl, so good”

“Show me you’re shameless. Write it on my neck, why don’t you? And I won’t erase it”

His lips tickled your neck, sucking and kissing your sensitive skin. You felt yourself get closer to your orgasm, legs shaking as his nails dug into your waist. “God, Eth…” Heavy breaths filled the room, Ethan thrusting himself into you harshly. His cock fit perfectly inside of you, milking him with each pump. “You’re so tight, my sweet thing”

His words made you melt, pleading and begging for your release. “Not yet” The words sounded harsh through his teeth. He didn’t want it to end, he had held back for too long to stop so soon. “Please Eth, please please please” Your eyebrows furrowed, biting down on his skin. He held you down with force, thrusting deeper and harder to feel all inside your walls. The veins of his dick rubbed against your hole, memorizing every line for you to crave later on.

“Shit” a whimper fell from his lips and you felt your body get hotter, Ethan noticing immediately. “You can cum, sweetheart” the tight knot in your tummy snapped. With just his words your legs started to shake uncontrollably, a ring of cum coating his dick as he pumped harder, chasing his own release. You whined as it had become too much for you, the feeling of hot cum filling you up almost making you cum again.

”I told you…I’d win” his voice was still shaky, trying to regain his composure. “You’re a bitch” you grumbled, yelping as he sat you back down on his dick harshly. “Too much? I’m sorry…” his words made your eyes roll back, pulling his lips in for a harsh kiss. “Yea, but we both know you wouldn’t have been able to resist me any longer. I did us both a favor” his dick hardened back up inside of you, this time thrusting deeper inside your walls. “Don’t be a brat, Y/n”

“I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to”

A/n: help

[idle-soliloquy]

Prison AU (?)

TW: Attempted SA (not between Gale and John), violence.

About 4 hours ago, this idea hit me like a freight train. I think I might turn it into a full fic, but for now... here it comes.

After years of suffering abuse at the hands of his father, Gale finally snaps. He’s had enough, and for the first time, he decides to fight back. 

With little mercy—not that his father deserves any—he doles out the punches. His mother is there, watching, screaming at the top of her lungs and begging them both to cut it out, but it’s far too late. It’s vicious and heated, a rabid fight for survival. A fight to the death, as it turns out. 

The facts of the case are indisputable—after a push to the chest, James Cleven falls back and hits his head, cracking his skull on the tiled kitchen floor, dying instantly. 

Gale’s lawyer claims self-defence, leaning on the years of abuse as mitigating circumstances. The murder charge gets changed to voluntary manslaughter. Gale is sentenced to five years in prison, with the possibility of parole. 

Heading for the prison gates, Gale’s aware of his vulnerability. He’s young, has no prior history of violence, no connections inside the joint, or in the criminal world outside of it. He’s distinctly alone—there’s no one he can count on to stand by him when (not if) things get out of hand. Afraid, but ready to stand up for himself, he enters. 

He’s placed in a cell with a young man named Curt, who’s loud and brash, but ultimately friendly. It quickly becomes apparent that prison life has its own intricate set of rules. Observing the ebb and flow of inmates and their daily interactions, he notices a couple of prominent groups emerge from the more passive crowd, including a respected ‘gang’ of inmates that call themselves the 100th, with a man called Bucky at the helm. 

Gale’s wary of him.  According to his bunkmate, Bucky’s swell. But how can one be swell, if they murdered a man in cold blood in the middle of a train station? 

In the chow hall during breakfast, and out in the yard, Gale can feel Bucky’s eyes sliding across his back like a hot poker. It’s unnerving. Makes Gale’s teeth stand on edge. Bucky’s illicit presence is like a blazing cocoon of (un)wanted attention that settles around Gale’s shoulders, and stays there no matter his disgruntlement with its weight.  

As the days go by, Gale keeps his distance, but can’t deny that he’s horribly intrigued. Why won’t Bucky come to him, if he’s so bothered? Curt says it’s cause Bucky never forces anything. Gale should be the one to come to him. That’s just the way things are done around here. 

Gale’s too proud to bite the bullet and reach out. So, they keep circling each other, Bucky always somehow in Gale’s vicinity, and Gale standing on attention, his unreasonable heart hammering in his chest when he spots the other man out of the corner of his eye. 

A couple of weeks into his incarceration, the dreaded moment comes: Gale is set upon by one of the other prominent gangs in the prison hierarchy, one with a less pleasant reputation than Bucky’s lot. At first, he holds his own, but things are looking bleak. Roughed up and swaying, Gale’s strength is close to waning, when—

Three guards step out of the shadows, and break up the fight. Chaos ensues, but the attackers are quickly corralled, and the main offender is sent off kicking and screaming. 

A figure looms at the periphery. With one eye nearly swollen shut, Gale watches Bucky come closer, with Curt hot on his heels, and... lets himself be helped, lifted off the ground. He hates it, viscerally, but his body’s aching and there’s bile in the back of his throat. He’s acutely aware of what Bucky’s just saved him from. 

His jaw is so tense it’s clammed shut. He wants to thank him, but the only pathetic sound he’s able to force out is a wheezing cough. 

Bucky rubs his shoulder, helps him get the tremors under control. 

“You’re alright. It’s gonna be alright,” he says, tone soothing. His piercing gaze is gone, replaced with a swell of tenderness.  

After a trip to the infirmary, Gale gets back to his cell and crawls into his bunk. He can’t sleep, staring at the ceiling, mind in a perpetual whirl. 

He hears Curt roll out of his bed and tiptoe across the room. 

“You alright?” 

 The blooming bruise above Gale’s right eyelid pulses like a living thing. He looks at Curt, and nods with little conviction. 

“You know it was him, right?” Curt says. 

“What?” Gale swallows. “What do you mean, him?” 

Curt points to his battered face. “The guards. They came to save your ass cause Bucky called.” 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“Cross my heart, hope to die. It was him, alright. And when you were in the infirmary, one of the guys from the 100th was standing watch.” 

“Why?” asks Gale, breathless. 

“Cause Bucky’s told him to.” 

Gale shudders. Of course, Bucky’s got the guards at his beck and call. Gale’s done nothing so far but ignored the man, but he’s still dispatched them like it was nothing, like it didn’t cost him anything, which Gale knows cannot be true; here, every favour is a trade. In one way or another, Bucky’s paying for Gale’s protection. 

“You have to get yourself sorted out, man,” Curt whispers. “It’s gonna happen again, you know that. We can’t keep an eye on you 24 fucking 7, unless—” 

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“The only thing you can do. Get yourself under Bucky’s protection. It’s the safest place to be. No one in the 100th holds with rape, it’s pretty much the only rule we go by.”

“And what do I have to do in exchange for his protection?” Gale asks through gritted teeth, expecting the worst. 

Curt frowns. “I just told you we don’t hold with rape. Nothing. Be a part of the group, uphold the code. Protect others in turn.” 

It sounds too good to be true. 

Curt won’t stop talking, praise after praise pouring out of him. You’d think he is Bucky’s biggest fan, and maybe that’s exactly the case, and for a good reason too. Gale learns that Curt went through a similar ordeal, but since he’s been running with Bucky no one has dared to touch him. But the final straw turns ot to be the full story of how Bucky’s landed himself in prison: the man he’s murdered in cold blood raped and killed his teenage sister. Bucky chased him across the country, from Wisconsin to Wyoming, after the man was acquitted due to lack of evidence. 

“I’ll talk to Bucky first, let him know you’re coming,” Curt suggests, and Gale, swallowing down his pride, agrees. 

A strange thing happens the next day—Gale’s moved from his cell to a new one, with cleaner, sturdier walls, and a bed that doesn’t creak and wail with every shift of his body. He’s even got a proper pillow, all fluffed up, with a mint chocolate placed neatly in its centre. 

His new bunkmate is none other than Bucky himself. 

“Curt came in for a chat this morning. Said you wanted to see me,” Bucky says from the doorway. “I pulled a few strings and got you moved in here for now. Better keep an eye on you.”

Bridling, Gale turns away, but doesn’t mouth off. Doesn’t want to come off ungrateful.

“So—” Bucky says when Gale remains silent. “What do you wanna chat about? I am all yours.” With a wink, he sits on his bunk bed, arms crossed on his chest, head cocked to the side. 

The words barely crawl out of Gale’s mouth. “Let me join you. Protect me,” he says, “and I’ll stand by your side.” 

Bucky smiles, a wicked glint to his eyes. “What’s your name?” 

“You don't know it?” 

“A name is something willingly given.” 

Gale blinks, bewildered. “It’s Gale—” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, and shakes his head. “Gotta give you a new one, a proper prison name. A name like Gale’s gonna get your ass kicked even with my protection.” 

“How am I supposed to—” 

“Your name is Buck from now on.” 

“What?” Gale gapes at him, frozen to his spot by the tiny sink, nails biting into the heels of his palms. “You gave me your name?” 

“Gotta clean out these pretty ears of yours, Buck, or are you hard of hearing? It’s an entirely different word. I’m Bucky, you’re Buck. With a name like that, there’s gonna be no doubt who you belong to.” 

More to come (maybe) to ao3 near you… 

Thanks to @angelfruittree for being the best brainrotting partner, and @nicijones and @don-humes-tiny-shorts for their brilliant suggestions on what crimes Gale and John would be capable of. Kissing your brains!

[suzdin]

Two for One: Part Five

Neighbor!Dave York x Human!Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-vampire Max, pre-Equalizer 2 Dave, familial drama and angst, ANGST!, mentions of drug use/abuse, alcoholism!, family death, invasions of privacy, breaking and entering, mentions of murder/violence, oral (f receiving), dom!Dave, soft!Max, threesome, anal, vaginal, breath play, alcohol and nicotine consumption, double penetration, anal creampie, dirty talk, I think that’s it

Words: 6,375 (sorry it’s short)

Notes: holy shit I don’t even know what to say other than I’m very grateful and touched by how many of you have reached out to me, and that I’m so so so sorry it took me this long to add a new chapter. Hopefully it’s worth the wait. I’m hoping to be more regular in the future! I did my best to remember who to tag, yell at me in the comments if I forgot you 🥴

—

You aren’t sure why, but with Dave gone, it feels wrong to see Max. At least, outside of your workplace...

Were it the other way around, you don’t think you would experience the same level of cloying guilt you feel with Dave, but then again, your relationship with Dave was far different than what you had with Max: while you kept Dave at arm’s length, with Max, you kept him even further than that, a begrudging admission of your lack of self control, something that you hate to admit runs in your family. You with your alcoholism and overactive sex drive; Garrett with his addiction to narcotics. Your mother’s former addictions to the same things as you and your brother, at one point or another, waxing and waning for decades as long as you can feasibly remember.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself as you imagine scientists studying your family like captive apes, which isn’t too far off. They would probably learn a thing or two about addiction. Not that your mother believes in science enough to volunteer for such things.

So, that is how things go for those few days that Dave is out of town. Max respects your need for space, surprisingly so, affording you little more than a few minutes in the bathroom each day you’re both in the coffee shop at the same time, ending in either a belly full of Max’s cum, his fingers buried deep in your pussy until you see stars, or both.

And he still insists on ending every interaction with those strangely intimate and delicate embraces, each encounter getting longer and softer with each passing day. Almost like Max wants to be close to you, but isn’t sure how else to go about it, only knowing that it’s something he needs—no, craves.

You won’t lie, you had started looking forward to those hugs too, needing them more than you’d realized. He never kisses you, though, no matter how long he holds you in his arms afterwards, something that leaves an oddly empty pit twisting inside of you that you can’t find yourself able to shake.

Your coworkers definitely know about your little bathroom receptions, thankfully looking the other way when Max comes strolling in like Don Juan in his pursuit of you. Even, much to your surprise, Audrey, whom you often found shooting dirty looks your way when she thinks you’re unawares, but has sense enough to keep her mouth shut. At least in front of you.

You played it cool around your boss, Maurizio, who seemed to be none the wiser, Max often chatting him up as a distraction when you had to straighten your clothes or smooth down your hair or make sure you didn’t have any remnants of jizz lingering on you. Sweet talking was definitely one of Max’s strong suits and Maury ate that shit right up.

Your nights after your shifts ended with you and Dave on the phone, talking — or doing other things — for hours on end, and you had to admit that his voice in your ear at the end of a long day was a welcome gift and distraction.

You asked about each other’s days; you lamenting about the stressors of your job, even divulging the part about the shipment of mocha syrup being two weeks late and how you’re down to only two bottles, and that you’re pretty sure Audrey and Vincent hate you, but leave out any bits about Max being the reason.

He tells you all about the day to day activities with his girls, everything from the inevitable meltdowns, to what they did and where they went, even letting you talk to his eldest — Molly — for a few moments when she insisted on knowing who her dad was talking to if it wasn’t Mommy, and although it felt awkward and forced it was still very sweet and amiable, leading you to wonder if this was all leading to something bigger between you and Dave… although you’d known each other only a very short time, it was suddenly feeling very real.

Did you want that?

You didn’t know, and not knowing scared you. That’s why, you realized, you hadn’t completely pushed Max away, in case things went awry. And they often did in your case, leaving behind a flaming trail of gnarled and smoldering wreckage in its wake.

And maybe you were starting to like Max, too. Just a little. As much as you tried to deny it.

At the very least, you could admit you looked forward to his daily visits more and more as the days slogged on, which was saying a lot.

As the upcoming week drew ever nearer, Dave’s communication dwindled and subsequently ran dry, which had you a bit worried. He had texted you about some vague work thing he had to do. You didn’t ask what it was, since it was none of your business.

Yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from worrying when the messages slowed and eventually stopped. Had you done or said something offputting?

You do your best not to linger in your own head for too long, keeping yourself busy with mundanities.

——

Dave was careful not to stay in touch with you unless absolutely necessary while he was actively on target. Whatever he could do to prevent you from being tied to the crime, even if only via digital footprint. Not to mention to keep himself from being tied to it, in whatever way possible.

He had left the crime scene with the intent to drive through the night without stopping until he reached Boston. His mind had not diverted from the original plan; however, with his dick painfully engorged and straining against his pants every step of the way, your face at the forefront of his mind, he found himself having to stop more than once to relieve the ache. You made him feel crazy. Crazier than he’s ever felt before. And he simultaneously loved and hated it.

With your videos playing on a loop, seat reclined back as far as it could go, he spills across his stomach again and again as he grunts your name through clenched teeth, hot spend collecting in the hollow of his navel.

Sunrise is approaching and he still has a couple of hours to go before he reaches you. He can’t wait to be with you. He can’t…

——

As you force yourself to drag ass into another long, miserable shift at work, barely conscious, your hair a rat’s nest, Dave is having to force himself not to be lead-footed all the way home. Being pulled over by a cop is the last thing he needs right now.

He texts you around 7AM, asking if you’re working and how you’re doing, although he already knows you’re not home, from the camera loop he periodically checks. He has to ask, though, to be as inconspicuous as possible.

You feel a wave of relief when you see Dave’s name pop up on your phone. But with a storm bearing down hard on the city (what your mother affectionately and irritatingly refers to as ‘tornado weather’), business unexpectedly picks up and you’re too slammed with soaked and pissy customers to respond in a timely manner.

You’re even too busy for Max when he comes in, passing him an apologetic glance right before your hands slip and you splash blistering hot coffee down the front of your shirt. Behind the dejected, puppy dog eyes he’s giving you, you almost think you see concern flash in those dark brown irises of his.

Not like that’s possible. Right?

—

It takes Dave longer than anticipated to make it back to Boston. Between the instances he had to pull off to relieve the strain in his pants, and subsequently take a power nap, he hits the city a little past 9, and by the time he makes it through the infuriating drag of traffic and rain, he pulls into his spot close to 10.

He draws in a deep breath as he stares up at your apartment window, dark now, pulling himself out of the driver’s seat, barely having enough energy to make it through the downpour and up the stairs to his apartment.

But as soon as he deposits his bag on the living room floor, he’s inexplicably hit with a second wind, adrenaline coursing through his veins when it occurs to him how close he is to you once again.

He hastily stuffs his lock picking kit down his pants, grabbing a rain slicker from the closet, despite already being drenched to the skin.

He knows you aren’t home. He’s confirmed and re-confirmed it. But needs to be in your space. Just long enough to smell you again, be with you without being with you until you can officially be in his arms again. He wants to lie on your bed, wrapped in your scent like a cloak as he dribbles down his fist, surprising you later by picking you up from work so you don’t have to walk home in the rain.

Which reminds him — he texts you again, asking when you get off, hoping that you’re just busy and not ignoring him.

He makes it inside your apartment in record time, the old wood of the interior crackling from the pressure disturbance, almost as if beckoning him inside.

He locks the door behind him and toes off his shoes, glancing around the small, dark space, which smells of stale cigarettes and… you.

He only needs a couple of hours. That’s all. Just long enough to hold him over until he can see you, smell you for real, touch you. Fuck you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you see stars.

He strips off his dripping clothes and drapes them over the back of your kitchen chairs to dry, at least somewhat, crawling into your bed and pulling the comforter up past his shoulders.

He presses his face to mattress, inhaling deeply, immediately growing hard from your lingering scent. Your coconut shampoo, your vanilla body spray. You.

As he slips his cock free from his boxers, he can almost feel your curves against his fingertips, the softness of your lips against his.

He begins to pump himself slowly, knowing he risked it all for you. Just so that sad fuck you call an ex can’t harass you anymore, his cock tightening further as he recalls the way Jonathan looked when the life drained from behind his eyes.

He did it for you, and he would do it a million times more if he could.

—

Your work day finally begins to slow after the lunch rush, the rain slacking off to a more tolerable, humid drizzle.

You let the others know that you’re retiring to the alley for a much needed cigarette break, and to not bother you for fifteen minutes unless it’s a life and death emergency. And even then, still don’t.

You already have a cigarette perched between your lips and a lighter clutched in your fist before you even hit the alleyway, thankful for the small awning even with the calmer precipitation.

You ignite the cig, pocketing your lighter as you take a seat on the milk crate you use as a stool, drawing in a long, much needed puff of smoke and toxins into your lungs. Fuck, it’s been a day.

You fish your phone out of your pocket so you can shoot Max a quick apology for not being able to see him earlier, immediately becoming distracted by the sheer volume of text messages you’ve missed since the start of your shift, Max momentarily forgotten.

Two of the messages are from Dave, which you’re relieved to see and respond to right away. One is from an employee letting you know they’re going to be half an hour late to their shift, which you ignore for the time being, not wanting to deal with it just yet. And the other eight are from your mom.

You sigh, taking another drag from your cigarette as you begrudgingly click on her name, anticipating the usual slew of bitching and moaning, reminding you what a terrible, awful daughter you are for abandoning your family; or, on the other end of the spectrum, kissing your ass and pleading for money.

As soon as your eyes scan over the messages, your world is swiftly rocked off its axis, your fingers losing their strength as your hands begin to tremor.

Your phone and cigarette crash to the ground, the former cracking as it hits the concrete, the latter snuffing itself out in the little bit of rain that’s left.

You wedge the heel of your palms against your eyelids and begin to weep, but you can still see the words behind your eyes, already haunting you, wishing you could scratch them out of your brain, wishing you could turn back time like it never happened.

Your grandmother, the only bit of glue that ever held you to your family, is gone.

—

Sarah comes in on her day off to cover the rest of your shift so you can leave early, thanking her profusely with promises to make it up to her as soon as you can.

You let Maury know you’re going to take a few days for bereavement, and he doesn’t give you any shit about it.

You walk home in a milky daze, finding your way by muscle memory alone, because you’re pretty sure you aren’t actually perceiving anything but a whirlwind of grief; grief so intense you can feel it in your bones, your bone marrow.

Your grandma—Granny Ruth—was the kindest, most selfless woman you’d ever had the privilege of knowing. You never could figure out how your mother turned out the way she did; how they were not only different, but polar fucking opposites.

You keep reading and re-reading your mother’s texts. How, in addition to your sorrow and angst, you’re also unfathomably angry.

Mom: your grandmother Ruth passed this morning

Mom: shame you weren’t here to say goodbye since you abandoned us

Mom: don’t bother coming home, she is being cremated no service

You need a stiff drink. Several, in fact. You need drugs. Every single one.

You need to get fucked until you’re completely desiccated. You need to strangle every last shred of emotion from your body because it’s too much to carry right now.

You wish you had a kill switch for your brain.

—

By the time you’ve reached the stoop that leads up to your building, you can’t keep it in any longer.

You managed to hold the fraying threads of your sanity together when you had to call Sarah in. And when you had to let Maury know. Even on the walk home, you were a zombie. Mindless. Numb.

But now, as you draw nearer to your home—or what you call home, but doesn’t really feel that way— your legs grow weak and your head swims, forcing you to collapse on the steps that lead up to the double doors, hunched forward, sobbing into your hands.

You aren’t sure how long you stay there, or if anyone sees you, and you really don’t care.

You stay until your head is throbbing, only snapping out of your daze when a familiar voice cuts through the sorrow, hushed, concerned, your name a murmur on their lips.

“Doll… are you okay?”

When you finally lift your head, your gaze settles on Max.

—

You tell Max about your grandmother. How she had been sick for years, how you should have never left her, the guilt and regret gnawing at you. You had been selfish, stupid.

He sits beside you on the steps, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, letting you cry, letting you lament about how much you hate your mother, only speaking when he needs to.

He’s being sweet, sympathetic, patient, and completely unlike his usual self. And you’re intuitive enough to know he isn’t bullshitting or just trying to get into your pants. He’s actually being sincere.

It’s so unlike him it almost unsettles you.

You aren’t complaining, though. It’s nice in how unexpected, how off-kilter it seems, and it does make you feel better, at least for a few fleeting moments.

As the conversation carries on and your mood lifts a peg or two, Max’s gentle, sympathetic touches gradually turn more reverent, more wanton, his movements slow and unsure at first to test the waters, wanting to ensure that you want it as much as he does.

When you reciprocate, your eyes re-affirming your needs to him, he grows more insistent, more brazen, cupping your breasts through your polo, coffee stains and all, canine teeth scraping along your pulse point.

He’s being more tender and sensual than you’re used to, and while you don’t mind it, you prefer Max’s usual persona and would much rather be railed so hard you forget your own name.

He pulls away long enough for you to punch in your password on the keypad, flinging the twin doors open and making a beeline for the elevator with Max trailing at your heels like an infatuated puppy.

His touches become more persistent and demanding the closer you get to your apartment, his true colors finally bleeding through. By the time you’re fumbling your keys to unlock the door, he’s practically dry humping you, hands on your hips, half hard already.

After a brief and minor struggle with your lock, your hands tremoring again, you eventually shoulder the door open, stumbling inside with Max immediately following suit.

The cool dark of your space welcomes you as you shut the door harder than intended, Max’s hands returning to your hips.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifts, and there’s movement from your bed.

—

You scream, your hands losing their strength for the second time today, keys and purse crashing to the floor as Max positions himself between you and the intruder.

Without thinking, you instinctively reach for the switch next to your head, the resulting flood of luminescence rendering everyone temporarily blind.

When your vision eventually returns, and you see who’s standing before you, you’re almost unable to fathom what the fuck is even going on.

“Dave? How the f- what are you… what the fuck?” you manage to prattle out, in spite of your inability to otherwise form a cohesive thought.

Dave could kick himself for being so careless, so sloppy. He was more clear cut than that. He should have known better.

His eyes flick to Max, his face neutral as he assesses the situation before speaking, taking a tentative step in your direction.

He’s in nothing but black boxers, one side of his hair flattened, his eyes weary and heavy with lingering traces of sleep.

He says your name, studying your face. He can tell you’ve been crying, and he wants to break whoever did this to you, rip them apart at the seams until there’s nothing left to identify a body.

He isn’t dense and can see that Max isn’t the source of your distress, clearing his throat subtly, whispering your name again.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, his need to touch you, kiss you, bordering on physical pain. But he doesn’t want to startle or upset you, your eyes as large as dinner plates.

As Dave creeps another step forward, Max shoulders up to him, practically bristling like a dog over a prized bone.

“Maybe you should answer her question, Dave.”

“Max—“ you warn, Max pivoting to meet your gaze, taking a single step back only because of you.

Dave passes him a glance, and for a brief, but satisfying moment, he imagines himself decking Max square in the jaw. He knows he could take the pretentious prick down in a single blow, he’s certain of it. But as much as he wants to do just that, he refrains.

He’s aware that acting on his instincts would disrupt your already fragile state. And as much as he hates to admit it, he understands why Max is acting the way he is. He would behave the same, were the roles reversed.

He draws in a deep breath before responding.

“I wanted to see you. You weren’t home… your door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I wanted to surprise you. But I must have drifted off...”

He pauses, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, giving you a moment to absorb everything.

“I’m sorry. I was exhausted, not thinking straight. I… I fucked up.”

You can’t help but notice Max is uncharacteristically quiet as Dave explains himself, hands on his hips, ready to jump in at any moment if needed. But like Dave, he doesn’t want to do anything to upset you.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help, if I can. I-“ He takes another step, his hand reaching for your arm. “I missed you.”

You see a muscle in Max’s jaw jump when Dave touches you, and as much as you want to shove him away, scream at him, tell him to fuck right off for breaking into your apartment… locked or not… you can’t bring yourself to do it. You’ve been angry enough for one day and you’re too mentally drained to care right now.

More tears fall in lieu of your anger, and you almost can’t believe you still have any left to cry.

Dave closes the distance, Max immediately flinching, itching to pick a fight but holding back. Dave doesn’t seem to notice or care, his focus honed solely on you, cupping your jaw, his thumb dragging over your cheekbone, catching any stray tears.

They’re behaving surprisingly well, given the circumstances, you have to give them that.

And although Max knew about you and Dave, you’re shocked to realize Dave knows about you and Max. But it’s too much information to dwell on right now, your head a foggy mess, so you don’t.

“My grandma died,” you croak.

—

The first hour is awkward, uncomfortable, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Dave and Max are getting along but only just barely, both of them vying for your attention to the point of additional stress, wanting to do whatever they can to make you feel better.

None of it feels real. Everything feels dark and hazy, a fever dream.

You’re sandwiched between both men on your tiny couch, watching something on Discovery none of you give two shits about, passing a bottle of vodka around to add to your mixer of choice as you sit in otherwise oppressive, stifling silence.

Their hands are all over you, competing for your affections, probably wishing you would kick the other one out, and you consider more than once to kick both out to let you wallow in your sorrow in peace.

But the drunker you get, the less you care. The drunker they get, the less they care about the other touching you, as long as they do get to touch you in some way or another.

As their touches grow bolder, you sense something unspoken pass between them, their caresses gradually transitioning to fondling, their hands moving over your curves, groping your breasts, teasing your folds through your thin leggings.

Of course there are a few moments where they bristle and bicker, quarreling over who gets to touch you where, but for the most part, they cooperate, working your body in tandem.

Your head falls back, your neck folded over the back of the couch as Dave’s fingers slip under the band of your leggings, his lips finding your neck.

“So wet already,” he murmurs against your pebbled flesh, his fingers feather light touches against your skin, teasing. “You like the way we’re touching you, baby?”

Max’s lips are on the opposite side of your neck, nibbling and kissing from your jaw to your clavicle, his hand sliding under your shirt, pushing your bra aside to pluck at your puckered nipple.

You can only moan in response, so fucking horny you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

“I think she does,” Max replies with a crooked smirk, locking eyes with Dave as he slips your polo over your head, his head dipping to suckle at your exposed breast.

Dave pushes two fingers past your entrance, languidly pumping them as he anchors his thumb against your clit, causing your hips to twitch and sputter.

“So fucking pretty for us,” Dave purrs against your neck, pushing your leggings down to your knees, “Dirty fucking slut, letting two men touch you. What else would you let us do to you?”

“Anything you want,” you respond almost immediately, not having to giving it another thought.

Max’s head lifts from your chest, gently pushing you forward so he can remove your bra.

“That’s a dangerous proposition, doll. You think you can handle both of us at the same time?” Max counters, a devilish glint making his dark eyes shine as he palms himself over his pants.

You nod, unable to respond in any coherent language due to whatever magic Dave is currently performing between your thighs.

Dave tells you to lift your legs, tugging your bottoms the rest of the way down.

He had pulled his pants back on after you and Max arrived, but he shucks them off again, the outline of his dick visibly straining through the fabric.

Max had already stripped down to his undershirt and pants, wiggling out of his shirt while Dave removes his pants.

Dave spreads your thighs apart, drinking in the vision of your sopping wet pussy, the tip of his tongue flicking at his bottom lip like a hungry reptile.

He turns to Max, his eyes glistening, his brow furrowed.

“Make her cum. Get her ready,” Dave commands, Max not bothering to argue with being told what to do so authoritatively, because he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Ride his face,” he tells you, gesturing for you and Max to move over to the bed.

“Use him to get yourself off.”

Max moves into position, wriggling out of his pants in the process, leaving both men in their boxers and you completely nude.

Your walls clench around nothing as you mount Max’s face, planting your knees on either side of his head, your palms against the wall.

Max places a few delicate kisses to your inner thighs before abruptly pulling you all the way down, his tongue curling into your wet heat.

Dave growls, his eyes darkening with lust as he steps out of his boxers, large hand wrapping around the base of his thick cock, steadily stroking himself to the vision of Max eating you out with abandon.

Dave bends to kiss your velvety lips, his tongue demanding access and you let him.

“You remember your safe word, don’t you?” Dave asks as he breaks the kiss, his fingers entwined in your hair.

You nod, your lower lip dangling. “Foxglove for you, lavender for Max,” you reply.

“Good girl,” Dave praises, giving your right ass cheek a solid smack. “Now ride his face. Use him.”

You hear Max grunt something against your folds but you aren’t sure what, leaning back, your spine flexing as you brace yourself on Max’s muscular arms.

Dave watches, transfixed, his hand never leaving his cock as he tilts your head back to kiss and bite at your throat, your jaw.

“Is he doing a good job, sweetheart?” Dave asks and your head bobs eagerly in response.

“Yes he is,” you say as your hips roll forward, thrusting against Max’s tongue, his arched nose bumping your clit with every stroke.

“Max, spread her cheeks for me,” Dave says firmly and Max immediately obliges, his cock twitching in his shorts when he understands where this is going.

With his hands gripping your ass, he helps you to guide your movements, moaning against your folds.

Dave perches on the edge of the bed behind you, collecting some of your excess slick to coat his fingers, assisting Max in spreading you even wider as he teases and prods at your puckered star of muscle.

“Let me in, sweetheart, or it’s going to hurt later,” Dave commands softly, circling your entrance with his index finger. “Lean forward a little bit,” he tells you, placing his palm between your shoulders as he guides you into position.

You brace against the wall again, relaxing as much as you can, the new angle helping.

Dave manages to slip one finger inside, pistoning into your tight tunnel, making you whimper and quiver against Max.

He spits directly onto your anus to apply more lubrication, adding a second finger to the first.

“Keep riding his face just like that. Use both of us, pump yourself onto my fingers as you use his mouth,” Dave says, his voice low, his other hand reaching around to circle your throat.

“There you go,” he says as his fingers probe deeper, scissoring them apart to help stretch you further.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whimper, your movements becoming more determined, more frantic.

Max is a trooper, his fingers still digging into your ass, his grip bruising, his tongue still flicking and curling into your tunnel, not even stopping to take a breath.

“That’s it, sweetheart, such a good girl for us,” Dave murmurs, his voice low and velvet.

He attempts to insert a third finger, adding more spittle and slick, only getting it past the first knuckle, but it does seem to help in spreading you open.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum… I’m so close…” you whine as your bounce more fervently on Max’s face, making him grunt words of affirmation under you, muffled against your soft mound.

Dave’s hold on your neck tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin, his lips brushing your ear.

“Let go for us, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Max continues to guide your movements, Dave helping now as well, bouncing you up and down, using your neck as a handle.

With a loud cry, you cum hard and fast, stars behind your eyes as both men work you through your orgasm, Dave’s hand releasing your throat to return to his cock, Max groaning into your pussy until the waves of pleasure subside.

Dave pulls his fingers free, stilling his ministrations on his own body as he gently cups your cheek.

“Still okay?” he asks, and you nod with a smile as you climb off of Max who, understandably, needs a moment to take a breath.

Max finally extricates himself from his boxers, heavy cock springing free, pumping himself slowly as his visage roves hungrily over you and Dave.

“Get on his cock and lean forward,” Dave demands in a low growl, and you shimmy down Max’s body, straddling him, Max slotting himself at your entrance and lifting his hips to meet you in the middle.

You slowly sink down to his lap, Max releasing a hiss of pleasure, placing his hands on either side of your hips.

“Fuck, baby, you feel amazing,” Max pants, already bucking his hips in anticipation.

Dave positions himself behind you, on his knees, his hands also moving to your hips, fingers brushing Max’s.

They lock eyes with each other, his brow a hard, dark line as he regards the other man.

“You are not allowed to cum in her. Understand?” he tells Max, his voice low and authoritative, his lips tight.

Max frowns, his brow wrinkling in disapproval, but he doesn’t protest, not wanting to let the opportunity to be inside you slip through his fingers.

Dave edges closer, adding more spit and slick to your anus, inserting two fingers again to ensure you’re ready.

“Just relax, baby, and use your safe words if you need them,” Dave tells you gently, placing the head of his cock against your tight ring of muscle.

“Just breathe,” he says, and begins slowly pushing himself into you.

As Dave gradually gains ground, you’ve never felt so full in your entire life, the sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, even when Dave claimed your ass the first night.

There is some pain initially, but the alcohol helps to alleviate some of the discomfort, as well as slacken your muscles enough for Dave to bottom out.

His head falls back with a loud groan as his hips press firmly against your ass, stilling himself for a beat to relish the sensation of your body strangling his cock.

After a moment, both men exchange another look and they begin to move slowly in conjunction with one another, their movements choppy and stilted at first as they learn the other’s movements, able to find a mutual rhythm after a few minutes that seems to work for you.

“Oh fuck,” you keen, burying your face against Max’s shoulder while both men slide in and out of you in tandem, and you think you’ve never felt anything more glorious in your entire life.

Max wraps his arms around your back, holding you against him, whispering encouragement in your ear.

“Look at you,” Max praises, one hand moving to cup the nape of your neck. “Taking both of us so well. You like having two men inside of you, don’t you?”

You nod and whimper against his neck, your hot breath fanning his skin, on the verge of tears with how heavenly it feels, how much joy and pleasure they’re gifting to you.

Dave gives your right ass cheek another sharp smack, making you yelp in surprise at the abrupt lance of pain.

“Say it. Say out loud how much you love it,” Dave grits through his teeth, his ministrations growing more intense.

“I love having two men inside of me, fucking me, using me,” you mewl between breaths, relinquishing a loud moan when their hips snap against you simultaneously, almost as if they planned it.

Little by little, their movements increase in speed and power, seamlessly with the other, a series of curses and inhuman noises bellowing out of your ribcage.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you cry out when you feel yourself getting close for a second time, your muscles already tightening. “I’m gonna fucking… cum… again…” you groan against Max’s neck.

Dave lands another slap to your ass, their thrusts growing rougher, your bed rocking against the wall.

“Cum for us, baby. Cum all over Max’s cock while I’m railing your tight little ass,” Dave snarls, panting hard as he chases his own end as well.

You reach your second peak only moments later, your vision going pure white as you’re hurtled far over the edge, experiencing the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, gushing unapologetically all over Max’s lap and your bed.

They keep pistoning against you, riding you through the waves of your orgasm, the sounds of their grunts and growls filling the small space.

Dave can tell by the look on Max’s face that he’s close as well, his breath ragged in his chest as he warns Max a second time not to finish inside of you.

Max’s cheeks inflate, his skin a deep shade of pink, sweat prickling his brow as he does everything he can to hold back.

“Final warning,” Dave grits, reaching around you to grip Max by the throat, squeezing hard enough to get his point across.

With a deep grunt, Max pulls out of you at the last possible second, locking eyes with Dave, hand still wrapping his throat, exploding like a goddamn geyser all over your ass and Dave’s stomach.

That spurs Dave to reach his own end, stilling inside of you, hips twitching and jerking involuntarily as he unloads everything he has to give, your flexing and pulsing anus milking every last drop.

He collapses on top of you, both men breathing haggardly, your skin slicked with perspiration.

You stay like that for a while, none of you wanting to move for a long time.

Dave pushes his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, his cheek resting against Max’s chest.

He eventually pulls out, rolling onto his back as you settle between them, lying in comfortable silence for what seems like an eternity.

Max pushes himself up, going over to the bathroom to grab some warm, damp rags, tossing one to you and Dave, using the third on himself.

Dave scoots to the edge of the bed, studying Max in silence as Max gathers his clothes.

You move next to Dave, also watching Max get dressed, quirking a brow in confusion and concern.

“You aren’t staying?”

—

You walk Max down, the elevator ride silent and stifling, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, having never been more quiet in his life.

You follow him to the street, staying with him until he reaches the corner.

“I have work tomorrow,” he says, a flimsy excuse at best.

You cross your arms, searching his face. “Are you okay?” you question, finding yourself genuinely worried.

“Yeah,” Max replies stiffly, confused and overwhelmed by everything that just occurred, his mind replaying the moment Dave grabbed his throat, resulting in him exploding all over both of you like a nervous teen on prom night.

“I just want to be sure…” he begins, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. “Did you want that?”

You meet his eyes with your own, not used to seeing Max this vulnerable, this unsure. You don’t like it.

“Yes. I did…” you say honestly, exhaling a slow breath.

“Did you?” you ask softly.

“Yeah. I did. I wanted it, and I enjoyed it, but… I don’t know,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just tired.”

You search his face again, searching for the unspoken answers, but not wanting to scare him away by prying too much.

You step into him, wrapping your arms around him in a snug embrace, and he buries his face in your hair, his arms linking behind your back.

He pulls away after a beat, his hands moving to either side of your face.

“I’ll text you soon. Okay? I’m sorry again, by the way. About your grandmother.”

You inhale deeply, nodding in acknowledgment, trying not to cry again. Sensing your pain, feeling a different kind of pain twisting in his chest, Max does something he normally wouldn’t.

He pulls you closer, his lips connecting with yours in a soft, worshipping kiss, long fingers sinking into your hair, committing the way you taste to memory.

—

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @heavennumber2 @alwaysmicado @yorksgirl @cosmic-li @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @daddy-dins-girl @natdeandar @sarap-77 @guelyury @vabeachazn @gwendibleywrites @anoverwhelmingdin @oberynslady @untamedheart81 @casa-boiardi

[missy4176]

The First Time He Says 'I Love You'

Cale Henituse x Reader

Cale Henituse has always been a man of few words, preferring to let his actions speak for him. His personality is a mix of lazy, nonchalant, and strategic, hiding his true intentions behind a mask of indifference. However, beneath that exterior, he is fiercely protective and caring towards those he considers important. Over time, you’ve grown closer to Cale, and though he hasn’t openly expressed his feelings in words, his subtle acts of care and protectiveness haven’t gone unnoticed by you. But hearing those words directly from him? That’s a different story.

Cale isn’t the type to openly display affection. Instead, he shows his care in small, almost imperceptible ways. He’d casually drop by to check on you after a battle, making sure you’re unscathed before turning away as if it didn’t matter. When you’re working late into the night, you’d find a cup of tea at your side—lukewarm, as if someone had placed it there a while ago. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, soften when they land on you, but only for a brief moment before he returns to his usual aloof self.

Cale often brushes off any deeper connection by saying things like, “I just don’t want to deal with the hassle if you get hurt.” He’s a master at deflecting emotions, even when they’re plain as day to everyone around him. You’ve learned not to push him for anything more, respecting the boundaries he seems to have set for himself.

It happens after a particularly grueling mission. The both of you are tired, dirtied from battle, and the weight of your responsibilities hangs heavily in the air. As usual, Cale checks on you—nothing unusual there. But this time, instead of his typical “Don’t make me worry about you,” there’s a hesitation in his voice.

“You’re alright, right?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. You nod, offering him a tired but reassuring smile. He lingers, his usual exit delayed by something unspoken. You notice how his hands tighten into fists, as if he’s fighting an internal battle.

“Cale?” you call out softly, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, staring at the ground as if it holds all the answers. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says it.

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you, almost surreal. Cale Henituse, the man who seemed so detached, so reluctant to express any form of deep emotion, just confessed. It takes a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, your heart races. You’re caught completely off guard, your mind racing to comprehend the gravity of what he just said.

The moment those words leave his mouth, he stiffens. His usual calm, controlled demeanor cracks just slightly, showing a rare vulnerability. He immediately curses himself inwardly, thinking he’s let his guard down too much. His first instinct is to downplay it, make it seem like it’s no big deal.

“Don’t overthink it,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of his own words. “It doesn’t change anything.”

But it does change things. You step closer, gently taking his hand in yours, feeling the tension in his body. He’s not used to this—being open, being vulnerable. You can see how much it’s costing him to admit this, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

“Cale,” you say softly, squeezing his hand, “I love you too.”

His eyes finally meet yours, wide with surprise and something else—relief. It’s as if a burden he’s carried for so long has finally been lifted. You can see the way his shoulders relax, the tension slowly easing out of him.

Cale isn’t one to suddenly become more open or expressive after a confession like that. But from that moment on, there’s a shift between you two. He’s still the same Cale—calculating, lazy, and strategic—but now, there’s an added layer of warmth in his actions. He doesn’t shy away from touching you—a hand on your shoulder, a brush of fingers against yours. And though he won’t say it often, when he does, it’s always in those quiet, unguarded moments when it means the most.

His “I love you” isn’t just a phrase—it’s a promise, a rare and precious glimpse into the heart of a man who guards his emotions as fiercely as he does those he loves. And knowing that he’s entrusted you with that part of him makes your bond even stronger.

Cale Henituse isn’t one for grand gestures or flowery declarations. His love is quiet, steady, and deeply rooted in his actions rather than words. But when he does finally say those three words, it’s a moment that transcends all the subtle signs he’s shown you before. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability that solidifies your relationship, making you realize just how much he’s come to care for you, even if he still struggles to show it in traditional ways.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Might I put up for consideration: Reader gets hit with an age regression spell or something like it (end result is the reader is now like 5-8) they still have their memories but faced with the crew + nezha in the interest of self preservation reader pretends not to have their memories, and because they're a kid nezha gets put in charge of them cause (Correct me if I'm wrong) he's some form of God of/protector of kids

Reader gets hit with an age regression spell with Nezha (plutonic)

One of the many disastrous missions you and the group had gone on resulted in the main demon chucking a bottle of something at you which regressed you to the age of 7 or at least that’s what everyone could guess with the side effect of temporarily erasing your memories. A few of the people, mainly MK, Mei, and Pigsy, knew what regression was and made sure that anything dangerous i.e. both staffs, the dragon sword, any of the other’s weapons, or Nezha’s spear.

While they were deciding how to go about the rest of the mission with you now mentally and emotionally 7 MK brought up that the lotus prince with them was also the god of children. Further, he explained that parents would often pray or make offerings to him in hopes that their children would grow up strong and healthy while also acting dutiful and respectful, ignoring the loud laughter and subsequent jabs and teasing from Wukong.

And so the group’s decision is almost unanimous except for Nezha himself repeating that Sandy would be better for this and they should focus on finding the antidote for you but he relents when Sandy assures him he will take over if things go south. So that is how you find yourself on one of the benches in the van looking out the window gleefully with him beside you while the others plan (in addition to MK and Pigsy making sure Wukong was seated far from you both to stop any petty arguments).

You point out many interesting things outside to your new guardian and do your best to act like you forget everything and assume these “strangers” won’t hurt you. So many bright colorful things catch your attention and eventually, you lay back down and yawn, sleepily rubbing your eyes and looking over to the lotus prince with a smile. “Prince!” you joyfully say before leaning back against the seat and looking up at the ceiling both shocked and horrified you let slip that you had at least enough of your memories to remember him. If he noticed then he didn’t say anything about it but softened and shifted his spears form into pink lotus petals that usually hardened into pikes but remained soft, controlling them loosely around or above you and smiling the tiniest bit at how adorable you looked as you followed them with your eyes.

[casterousaudrey]

Healing Touch

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Astarion/Cleric!Tav!reader

Theme: tooth rotting fluff, some religious themes due to reader being a cleric.

Note: I think I made the reader and Astarion too obsessed with each other.. but in a good way!! Also this was inspired by the time I gave offerings in the stromshore tabernacle and I just see the 'Astarion disapproves', what the flip man! Sorry to those who were waiting for this, It took a while because of my busy sched!

"I’m never going to accept any kind of healing that doesn't end with a kiss after"

Fighting with Astarion never escalated far. It was usually just small jabs at each other or teasing gone too far but then there are times like these when neither one of you would back down it just kept making the fight more heated.

"I bring you once. One time to the stormshore tabernacle, and you can't even hold your tongue when I'm trying to commune with my God!"

"I just thought that you weren't the type to bow down to anyone, my dear."

"I'm a cleric, Astarion! Yes, I'm a devoted worshiper to my God and they give me strength! Apparently, strength I need to deal with you!" 

Astarion sneers and crosses his arms at you. Worshipping another being doesn't exactly sit well with him, he feels that it controls you and makes you too dependent on them. It was probably due to how Cazador treated him but in his mind, any being asking for worship was self-admiring.

"You have your own strength, darling. So pardon me if I don't think you need some God for that."

"It's not that I don't trust my skills, Astarion. I worship my God because I choose to. Was it too much of me to ask my lover to respect that holy place? If not for the Gods then at least for me!"

At this point, you were screaming your lungs out not caring that the others in camp were glancing at the commotion. This wasn't the first Astarion had expressed his distaste for your faith, it never escalated this far because you tried to understand his situation with Cazador and all. But the constant disapproving stare and look of disgust, whenever you would pray to your God or gather some offerings to bring to the stormshore Tabernacle slowly, got to you.

After all the times you saved him from life-threatening wounds, you thought that maybe he'd warm up to your faith- but he remained unshaken. 

"I'm going to take a walk... It's better if you don't follow me for now....., dearest" Your heart jumps a little at the nickname but then anger eventually pops your lovesick bubble. Astarion gets up and leaves camp, his definition of laying off steam was to walk through the woods and terrorize whatever animal crosses his path. You were about to say something about how you were the one who was supposed to storm off but instead, you held your tongue and went back to your tent making sure to close the opening. 

You loved Astarion- and there is no doubt in your heart that he loves you too, but you didn't want to have to choose between faith and love because you believed that they are the main pillars that keep your spirit strong.

~~~

As Astarion was walking through the woods he reminisced about the argument you both had, he couldn't understand why anyone would worship a being without being sure that they'd get a reward in return. The only thing close to God he had in his life was Cazador- oh and how much he wanted to rip his face apart.

Astarion ponders all of this unaware he is dangerously close to enemy territory and suddenly senses another presence- maybe four around the trees. "If you're going to spy on me all day at least make it less obvious" Just then two goblins jump down from the tree, their weapons craving for blood. 

"Hells, there must be quite a bounty on my head" Astarion smiles as he brings his weapons out. He strikes at the first goblin. "You fiends are making this stress reliever way easier for me. I can do this all day!" Astarion did occasionally love the thrill of the hunt, especially when he gets something in return. A thought comes across his mind that he feels rather... alone in this fight, although he could handle this on his own he couldn't help but crave your helping hand and your smile that shines when he saves you from danger. 

Unfortunately, Astarion didn't realize how distracted he was until one of the goblins blew a horn, a signal for backup.

 "Well, shit.."

Astarion killed the first two goblins but he sees backup quickly replacing them. The grip on his dagger tightened, this was supposed to be a nice relaxing walk to calm down or even hunt for other creatures. He guesses that trouble always did find a way to follow him. 

The goblins fall one by one but not after Astarion gets injured by their bows, axes, and maces. As the last goblin loses, Astarion clutches his side. He was hurt and it's been so long since he's felt hurt in combat, his mind jumps again to your hands that always healed him at an instant or your ability to heal the entire team within seconds. God, he really missed you- he didn't even feel angry anymore, he just wanted to be in your arms as you kiss every part of his injuries after you healed it. 

Just then he hears a footstep, and he groans in annoyance, more of this and he'd actually collapse- either from his injuries or his need to hold you again, he isn't sure. 

"Look if you're looking for gold, you're out of luck..."

"Oh Gods.. what happened?"

He quickly glances to his side where the figure had approached from where he was sitting. Astarion half expected it to be you, The thought of you running after him made him smile but then it quickly disappeared when he realized the fact that the female human in front of him may be a cleric but it wasn't his beloved cleric.

"We should get you back to the church! They'll help heal your wounds!"

"As kind as your offer is, I'm afraid I have to decline. I can't these injuries for myse-" Just as Astarion tries to stand up, he feels pain in his side. He now just felt annoyed that he was displaying this kind of weakness to some stranger.

"Nonsense! I'll help bring you there!" The cleric smiles as she wraps Astarions arm across her shoulder. Astarion couldn't protest as much because of his condition but he'd be damned if he'll let himself get healed by some cleric.

~~~

The sun was about to set and Astarion still hadn't come back to camp. You were getting worried, you weren't even mad at him anymore you just wanted him safe and back in your arms. You really did fall hard for this man. 

"Hey soldier... are you okay?" Karlach has seen you pacing back and forth all over camp, fiddling your weapon nervously, and even stress-eating your favorite sweets. 

"Yeah, sorry if I'm being all jittery today it's just.."

"Astarion, yeah I know how much you care about each other. I'm sure he'll come back safe!"

"Thank you, Karlach. You're the best" 

You softly smile at her as she waves and walks back to her tent. Just then you hear Gale laughing walking towards you, he just came back from town to fetch new ingredients for tonight's meal. He always loved cooking for the group.

"Ok you won't believe what happened"

"Spit it out, Gale. What's gotten into you?"

"Ok, so I was walking around the city and I stopped by the church. Guess who I saw there sneering at every cleric on-site..."

"No..."

"Astarion! Gods, if you saw the furrowed brows of the clerics trying to help him you'd laugh too"

"He's hurt?!"

"Not badly, I came to tell you about it. Figured the only cleric he'd let touch him was you"

You started to flush but quickly remembered that your partner was hurt. "Oh Gods, I need to go there Gale before he loses his mind. We'll be back for dinner!" You grabbed a few of your belongings, as well as some healing ingredients, and sprinted out. You wave quickly at the others before reaching the path to the church.

You have no idea why you were nervous to see Astarion, you see each other every day and sometimes even every night. You were scared if you got there and he was still mad at you. You push those thoughts away because all you wanted was to see and help him (maybe to also give him a little smooch but you won't tell him that).

As you open the door you hear the clatter of equipment being thrown to the ground, You greet the other people you know at church as you hear another glass breaking. You already know who would be acting hysterical in a church so you followed the sound and opened the door to reveal your one and only lover sitting up on a bed and a cleric who had been trying to help him.

"Oh sorry ma'am but this section is strictly forbidden to outsiders"

"It's ok I'm a cleric, and he's my husband"

"Oh well... if that's the case I can hand his case to you!"

The female cleric quickly picked up her equipment and left the room, she seemed a little too eager to finally leave. You turn to face Astarion whose eyes are already on you, his lips curled to a smile- at least you know he isn't mad.

"Husband? You could at least take me out for dinner first, darling"

"Oh hush, that was one of the only peaceful to get her to leave us alone"

The other beds in the room were surprisingly empty, leaving the both of you alone. You walked towards his bed as you set your bag on the side table. You place yourself in between his legs as you softly caress his face with your hands.

"How's my favorite vampire doing"

"Better now that you're here.... look darling, I just wanted to apologize for my actions earlier. It was completely uncalled for. The closest thing to a God I knew was Cazador... you saw firsthand how much I hate the beast.. but I also understand that it wasn't like that for you, I can live with you being faithful to a God and it also makes you kind, sometimes too kind"

"Too kind, eh? Maybe I should just leave your injuries unattended then"

"I would appreciate it if you won't"

You laugh softly at him as you place a kiss on his lips and at his lashes. You've always loved his eyes and how easily you could get lost in them. Astarions hands were on your waist as you lifted his shirt to finally tend to his wounds.

"I'm also sorry for screaming at you. Wasn't very kind of me to do... but also you were an ass"

"What an apology, my dear"

"Only the best for you"

Still in his hold, you grab a few medicines in your bag and quickly healed him with your magic. In no time Astarion was all healed, all that was left was to clean his bloodied clothing. You loved times like this- intimate and calm, You thank your God for the power to help him because he does get into trouble quite often.

"And there, you're all set. We can go back to camp now if you want"

"It still hurts right here, love" 

You glanced at where his fingers were pointing only for it to be pointed at his lips. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"I wouldn't want nothing more, my sweet"

You chuckle as you kiss him on his lips. Even before you got together he always had this flirtatious attitude, you could argue that it only became more frequent when you got together. Always the charmer.

"Now let's go home before the others get worried" He released his hold on your hips as he stood up and stretched a bit. "Anything you say, darling"

"Why didn't you want to get healed by the other clerics?"

"Oh well they aren't as attractive, strong, smart, and quick-witted as you.... besides"

Astarion turns to you holding both of your hands in his as you look him in the eye. 

"You're my one and only cleric. I’m never going to accept any kind of healing that doesn't end with a kiss after"

"You could ask Shadowheart next time"

"Ughh don't even get me started, I was trying to be romantic..."

Taglist: @severusminerva, @sarahskywalker-amadala, @ghostinvenus, @veethewriter. Hope you guys enjoyed this!! xoxo

[turbulentscrawl]

Luchino Diruse General HCs

The time has finally come. I have a LOT to say about Luchino. This covers both his survivor and hunter forms, and it might be a bit jumbled because I had so many thoughts to try and organize.

-The exact subject of the Professor’s research is left in the air, but given his focus on venom and poisons, and the necessity of testing them on animals, I’m guessing he worked in toxicology. He likely helped to develop antidotes and other products from the substances he and his colleagues studied—and taught students about these subjects in the university laboratory—as well as had a general interest in reptile biology and genetics.

-While Luchino was a bit too open to self-testing during his venom and toxicology research, he did not willingly take the mutated reptile’s venom. The information provided for Luchino doesn’t specifically say that the venom was forced on him…but Luchino’s experiment report from his first manor game describes him as “Vigilant” and as having a “moderate thirst for knowledge.” He was also the only one to survive, due to his curiosity and his respect for potential danger. Because of these, I find it unlikely that he would let a mysterious, mutating reptile bite him. When he self-tested venom before, it’s said he always had antidotes/antivenoms within reach. This just isn’t a risk he’d take. Additionally, Luchino went missing from the labs where this happened, and Dr. Thompson was never mentioned again, so I think it’s likely there was some sort of struggle immediately after Luchino was bitten. For that, a fight had to have been warranted.

-Eli describes Luchino as cautious, dignified, courteous, and “kinder and more friendly than expected.” You all know I talk about it any time I can, but I state once again that Luchino is a gentleman to most if not all people. His vigilance mentioned earlier makes his intuition rather good, so he can fairly reliably tell good people apart from the bad, and uses that to keep himself a safe distance from trouble. He’s also very open-minded and sees atypical traits and behaviors as interesting more than anything else. He feels secure in his judgement of people, which allows his curiosity for all things to flourish.

-But he’s also obsessed with his work. Sometimes that makes him willing to cut corners. (Once again, self-testing with venom.) Which is how he got himself in his current predicament in the first place. He had some concerns about the intentions of Dr. Thompson asking for his help…but his curiosity for this new and strange reptile overpowered his concerns.

-Luchino is a man of indulgence (indicated both by some of the prior hcs, and his S-tier skin wherein he is Dionysus, a god of pleasure and madness.) He sees no sense in being ashamed of desiring sensual, carnal, or dangerous things. Luscious food, rich wine, mind-blowing sex. He also indulges his thirst for knowledge with hands-on experimentation. But indulgence implies a choice, self-control. Indulgence means giving in to something you typically deny yourself. This is where he and Evil Reptilian really diverge.

-So E.R. is very much still Luchino, personality-wise…but his new, more animalistic nature has made him entirely beholden to impulse. He’s still rather gentlemanly, and still a man-beast of science, but he’s more reactive to aggression/challenges and gives into his desires almost indiscriminately. And several of those desires are very much based in his newfound carnivorousness; he’s one of the most vicious hunters because his instinct screams at him to chase and kill anything that runs.

-The two do get along…but Luchino and he strongly disagree on how good the end results of his biological changes are. E.R. considers all of his changes to be positive; he’s faster, stronger, and still smart as a whip—he’s far more capable, overall. Meanwhile Luchino can look at his Hunter self and see exactly how much of his self-restraint is gone. Luchino thinks the biggest thing separating man from animals is free will, and you can’t truly have that if you’re a slave to your impulses.

-Luchino’s COA skin has what I’m pretty sure is an explosive strapped to his chest, which indicates to me that he’d rather go out in a blaze of glory than lose himself entirely. And as a lot of the A/S tier skins share something with their core character, I assume this trait is the same for regular Luchino. Some people theorize that he’s unbothered by his changes, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. As much as he’s intrigued and excited about the scientific implications of the changes he’s undergone, Luchino DOES NOT want to become a mindless animal, to lose himself entirely. He’d rather die and take his mind and all its knowledge with him than let it waste away.

-He’s a more dominant sort of person, but he’s secure in it and his masculinity, so he’s not overbearing or pushy. Rather, Luchino passively presents as something of a natural leader (if not a slightly removed one) because of his level-headed judgement and work ethic. So people tend to look to him for direction. If they don’t, and if he doesn’t like the person who is leading, he’s fine just stepping away and doing his own thing. He’s always the dominant partner in his romantic entanglements and enjoys taking on a provider role.

-He’s not as reclusive as Alva or Luca, but he is less outwardly social than others. He blends in well with most crowds and paces the amount he speaks when in conversation with others. He’s one of those who prompts others to talk more with thoughtful questions—sometimes just to listen to someone he cares for talk more, and sometimes to subtly get information out of someone.

-Despite a few “mad scientist” tendencies, Luchino isn’t usually hyper focused to the point of damaging his health. He’s typically good about sticking to a regular sleep schedule, stays relatively active, and eats healthy. He’s in good shape despite having a career that keeps you at a desk a lot.

-Supposedly, Luchino played a hand in the “failure” of Dr. Thompson’s “matchmaking” business, and this is what made the man want revenge on him. Luchino expresses concern for this, implying that he doesn’t know for sure if he caused it, but feels bad if he did. As such, I’m under the impression that Luchino was just making some negative commentary about the idea of a “matchmaking service” to their colleagues. Luchino seems to have been likeable and respected, so word got around about his opinion on the matter and the business (likely already struggling) tanked.