#anyway just not too thrilled but what can you do

[merakiui]

Oh our dearest Mera!

It is the birthday of everyone’s favorite egg man!

Might I please request some birthday egg blurbs?

Apocalypse octatrio receiving a virgin darling bride who they realize their anatomy is more than capable of holding clutches by the dozens!

Sincerely,

Mer Eggs Anon.

(Also ps: I am just being overdramatic for the funny hahas, you don’t actually have to do it lol)

MY LOVELY MER EGGS!!!! (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYY!!!!!!!! May it be an occasion full of happiness and sweetness!! <3 please enjoy these apocalypse thoughts!!

It really is so perfect you're capable of holding lots of clutches than other brides. There's no need to prepare you more extensively or force you to drink all manner of potions to prevent any strain on your body. But if you were to ask I'm sure they would be accommodating.

Azul likes to think you were made for him, a selfish, delusional thought he can't help having every time you're in his arms. And you're a virgin!!! He couldn't have asked for a better bride. Because he's neurotic and likes to be prepared, he'll have given you the overview well in advance just so you'll know what to expect. It's not as if you can get out of this contract and partnership anyway, but knowing what's to come does put one's mind at ease. He doesn't even know your limits, or lack thereof, until he's through with the first few eggs and there's still plenty of room.

Octo-mers are known to produce and lay lots of eggs because very few survive. Greedy to a fault, he'll want to see how much more you can hold. And wouldn't it be great if more eggs than usual survive!!! >w< he'll make sure of it, he'll promise you over and over, as he's peppering your neck in venomous kisses and stuffing you full of all the eggs he can possibly give.

Floyd likes to surprise you, so of course you're doing it in his mer form when you aren't expecting it. It's better that way. Plus, more babies!!! :D something something the toll on your body isn't so extreme if he does it this way,,, or that's what Azul claims anyway. He doesn't really care about statistics and evidence. He can smell how anxious you are, taste it on the air, feel the tension in your body when you press yourself up against the pool wall. There's nothing to be scared of. He'll treat you nice and good. Even though it sounds earnest, that slimy grin of his tells you otherwise. You're scared of his strength and size, of those two impossibly huge and inhuman cocks that curve up from his slit, but this is your duty as a bride.

I think Floyd would make sure to prepare you, spending an obnoxiously long time between your legs, his long tongue thrust up inside you, fingers working you open. He's really careful with his teeth and claws. Such a sweet eel who craves the taste of you and every cute sound you make. He'll fill you with some fluid (you think it's cum, but then you're not sure) that makes you feel hot and numb,, pain is the last thing you'll feel when your hole stretches around his cock(s). Floyd expects you to take half a clutch, maybe even the full clutch if you're able to, so it's a very thrilling surprise when you're able to take more than that. His Shrimpy sure knows how to surprise him hehe. >:D it's a good thing, too. He has plenty more eggs to give. :) you're not leaving that pool until you're really knocked up,, so much so he'll have to help you out.

Jade..... orz in the time leading up to breeding season, he tells you that you ought to prepare yourself. He can help, of course, but you shooed him off because that sharp smile is not to be trusted. So instead he was keen to sit and watch as you struggled around the dildos he gave you,, all for training. It was humiliating even though you know he's your husband now and so this shouldn't be so embarrassing. Still,,, you hated how he could look at you so casually, seemingly unaffected by the erotic display in front of him. He has fun gently bullying you.

By the time you're slipping into the pool with him, you think you're ready. You'll have to be. You tell him you're a virgin and he says he knows this because it's written in your file, and you splash him because now is not the time for his smart-ass remarks. You're not sure what to do, so he takes the lead, taking hold of your hips. You watch in fascination and horror as his own anatomy is made present and suddenly you wonder how this is ever going to work. But then he's pressing his mouth to yours and you taste blood, and within minutes you're hot and desperate and begging him to just put it in and stop teasing. You'll get what you desire, and maybe because you feel so euphoric you don't even register any pain or the eggs as they slip into your womb. You'll cry because it feels too good, and Jade is in utter awe at the way your greedy womb takes in more eggs than he was expecting. This is good; he wasn't intending to stop even if you were past your limits. :)

[peachesofteal]

I know there's a bit of a line to slurp your clit (gn!) about Raspberry Girl but it's so vitally important to me that you hear it from me personally that it's really, truly, everything. Just another late diagnosed AuDHD girlie joining the party.

We're all just sitting here in the submissive and ND safe space and it's wonderful. It's so affirming and comforting to read a character like me, and to have her be written in such a way that she can be free from the bonds of girlbossery and just be timid and unsure and full of self doubt. We can be that and it's okay, so thank you for keeping your stance on that firm. But more than that, it's thrilling to read not just any man but (Captain 😭🥹🫡) Simon mf Riley truly loving and appreciating her and just being the perfect fit for her. He's not running, he's not pushing. He's just creating the perfect platform that provides all the comfort she needs, ensuring she feels security and freedom to grow in confidence and fall for him. For me, loving is being understood, and he understands and appreciates tf out of her cute lil self. I'm thinking of "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." when I say there's so many decisions you've made about this blossoming little romance that it feels like were plucked right out of my deepest desires (Browning Sonnet 43). Ho are you the NSA? I tend to ramble (maybe you've caught on) so let me refrain, but if you're ever wanting reassurance or kudos or compliments or just to hear more of what people love about this story just call on me and I'll come list another way this pairing and how you write them is perfect to me.

I reblog to my sideblog, just so you know. I'm happy to be here :) thank you for blessing us with your writing 💕✨💖

SLURP. I-

anyway, "He's just creating the perfect platform that provides all the comfort she needs, ensuring she feels security and freedom to grow in confidence and fall for him. For me, loving is being understood, and he understands and appreciates tf out of her cute lil self." This is exactly it. She's free to be herself, she doesn't need to fit into anyone else's little box to be loved.

I'm so glad you're enjoying it, thank you so much. You're so sweet. Happy you're here too!

[s1ut-4-rafe]

SECRETS WE KEEP | Rafe Cameron | 01

MASTERLIST (Series - In Progress)

Pairing - Rafe Cameron x Pregnant! Routledge Reader

Summary - After a heated argument with Rafe, the reader finds herself in a passionate, intense encounter that changes everything. She leaves the OBX pregnant, determined to protect herself and their child from his volatile temper. A year later, she returns to the island with her secret in tow but can she keep the truth from Rafe or will he find out about his child? If he does, what will it mean for their broken past and their future?

Word Count - 1374

Content - Angst, pregnancy/parenthood, secret baby, toxic relationships, emotional trauma, jealousy

It was always going to end in flames.

You should’ve known from the start—the way Rafe’s eyes gleamed with that dangerous, reckless spark, the way his words had a knack for both thrilling and terrifying you all at once. You could feel it in your bones: the whirlwind of passion, chaos, and heartbreak that came with being close to him. But for a brief moment, it had been enough. Enough to make you feel alive in a way nothing else had.

When it ended, it didn’t feel like an ending at all.

It all started with a fight.

Your arguments were never quiet. They were loud, and explosive, like everything in your lives. Rafe was stubborn, and so were you. And when you two clashed, it was a full-on battle, neither of you backing down, both of you saying things you didn’t mean, things that made the situation worse.

You didn’t even remember what the fight was about—something small, insignificant, but it was enough to bring out the worst in both of you that night.

"You never listen to me, Y/N!" Rafe shouted, his face flushed with anger. "It’s always what you want, what you need, and I’m just supposed to go along with it."

Your chest tightened with frustration, with hurt. "I’m trying to make things work, Rafe, but you keep making everything harder! I can’t even breathe when you’re like this!"

Your words sliced through the air, sharp, like knives. You’ve had this same argument a hundred times before—about how you couldn’t trust each other, about how your lives didn’t line up, how you couldn’t get him to settle down and he couldn’t get you to understand his world.

And yet, there was always the tension between you, the undercurrent that pulled you back together despite the mess of it all.

It was too much. You tried to leave, you had to get away from the words that hung in the air, the bitterness that curled between the both of you.

You grabbed your jacket, throwing it on in a huff, ready to storm out. "I can’t do this anymore, Rafe. I need space."

But he grabbed your wrist before you could walk out the door. "You’re not leaving me, Y/N. Not like this."

You looked at him, your heart hammering in your chest. "Why? You don’t want me here anyway. You never do."

"Stop running," Rafe spat, his voice suddenly quieter, though still laced with anger. "Stop trying to push me away."

The anger and frustration in his eyes softened in that moment. It was as if he didn’t want to let go, but didn’t know how to fix what was broken.

And before you knew it, the tension between you snapped, turning into something else entirely.

Rafe’s lips crashed onto yours with a force that took you by surprise. You tried to fight it for a second—tried to push him away—but there was the heat, the pull, and the part of you that never knew how to say no to him. The fight became something else. It became a blur of bodies and sweat, of tangled sheets, of passion that was both a release and a reckoning.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, desperate, the kind of release that came after too much tension had built up. It was a way of saying things without words, an unspoken promise that, for a moment, you could forget everything else—your problems, your issues—and just exist in the madness of it all.

When you both collapsed into bed, your breath coming in uneven gasps, it wasn’t the first time that had happened. But something about that night felt final like you had crossed a line you couldn’t come back from.

You didn’t know it then, but that night changed everything.

The memory of that night still clung to you, a bittersweet ache that wouldn’t go away. You knew it was reckless. You knew it was always a risk. But at that moment, you had let yourself believe—just for a little while—that maybe, just maybe, you two could make it work. That you could keep pushing through the chaos together.

You found out a month later. The nausea, the dizziness, you took a test just to see and it all hit you like a ton of bricks. You were pregnant.

The shock had settled in your chest like a cold stone. You remember how you sat there, frozen, trying to process the fact that your life was about to be completely different. Your hands shook as you pulled out the test, the two pink lines staring back at you, the weight of it sinking in. You couldn’t have a baby like this. Not with Rafe.

The world outside seemed distant as if you were floating in some kind of dream. But the reality was clear: Rafe’s unpredictable tendencies, his dangerous streak, his refusal to settle down—they weren’t just things you could ignore. They weren’t just parts of him that made your heart race. They were the things that could ruin everything you loved, including the life you were about to bring into the world.

You had to leave.

The night before you left, you remember sitting alone with JJ by the bonfire at The Chateau. His usual cocky grin was missing, replaced by a rare moment of seriousness, his eyes softer than usual. “You’re not a coward for walking away, you know” he had said, his voice rough. “Sometimes you have to break the cycle. Rafe’s not the only thing in your world. You’ve got this. You can leave him, Y/N. You’re stronger than you think.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. JJ, always the one to crack jokes and avoid anything serious, was offering you the kind of advice you never thought you’d get from him. It was a turning point, a moment where you knew, deep down, you couldn’t keep running in circles anymore. The decision wasn’t easy. But it was the right one.

And so, you left. You moved far away, settling in a small town where you could start over. You learned how to be a single mother, and how to make a life for yourself and your baby, but you could never escape the pull of the OBX. You missed your real home, your friends. You missed Rafe, even if you would never admit it to anyone.

The loneliness was almost overwhelming at times, but it was the kind of solitude you could bear. Slowly, you found peace in the small moments—the early mornings, the quiet afternoons, the unexpected kindness of strangers who didn’t know your past. It was the life you needed, even if it didn’t erase the memory of everything you left behind.

But the quiet didn’t last.

Rafe's messages started coming in like waves, relentless and never-ending. At first, it was a few sporadic texts, apologies, and desperate pleas for you to talk to him. His words were always wrapped in guilt and regret, each one heavier than the last.

But as time passed, they became more frequent and more urgent.

"Please, Y/N. Talk to me. I’m so sorry for everything."

"Can we fix this? I need to hear your voice."

"I can’t do this without you."

You felt the weight of each message pressing against your chest. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to know he still thought about you, that he still needed you. You couldn’t risk going back to that chaos, that love that was as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

And so, you ignored him.

But every time you saw his name flash on your phone, your heart would skip, just for a second. It was hard—harder than you wanted to admit—but you couldn’t let him pull you back into that storm.

As you cradled your son, watching his peaceful face in the dim light of your new home, a quiet sense of peace settled in your chest. His small hand curled around your finger and you knew you had made the right choice.

The life you had now, the peace and stability, was what you had always needed but never thought you could have. This was your new beginning.

[lilangelbud]

Ok ok, I know you must be busy with all the requests cause your writing is top tier, but I have a small request

So lately I've been so obsessed with idea of being at like a party or a club and having a crush on a slightly older loser tatted guy who's always so mean to me but at this party he's so drunk/high and all he can see is me like everything is so blurry but he can only see me laughing and dancing and it's pissing him off that I'm doing it with someone else he's had feelings for me for so long but he shows it by being mean and now he's so fucking pissed he just wants to take me right there so he drags me upstairs and does what he's wanted to do for so long

It sounds so weird saying it first person I'm sorry 😭 I know it's not your usual kind of content but your writing is so gooooddd I haven't seen good writing like this since 2022 so if you could please give it a shot if you don't want to it is completely fine I love reading your regular content anyway, and please if you can make it rough

Thank youuu have a great day/night

Thank youuu and requests are always welcome love xx Plus I love changing it up every now and then. Hope you enjoy this and that I did it justice xx

The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating up my legs and settling deep in my chest. The house was packed, bodies pressed together in sweaty, chaotic clusters, laughter and shouted conversations competing with the music. I’d been nursing the same drink for what felt like hours, my eyes darting across the room every few seconds—searching for him. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until someone bumped into me, jolting me back to the present.

He was here. Of course he was. Slouched in the corner, one tattooed arm draped over the back of the couch, a joint hanging loosely between his fingers. His head was tilted back, his half-lidded gaze scanning the room, but every time our eyes met, he’d look away quickly, almost like it hurt to hold my stare for too long. He was always like that. Mean. Distant. Like I was some kind of annoyance he couldn’t shake. But tonight, there was something else in his expression. Something darker. Something hungry.

I tore my eyes away, trying to focus on the conversation I was having with a friend. But the air felt thick, charged with tension, and I could feel his eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking. It was maddening. Infuriating. And, if I was being honest, a little thrilling.

When the song changed, someone grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the makeshift dance floor. I laughed, letting myself get swept up in the moment, the alcohol and the music making it easy to forget about the way he made my stomach twist in knots. I twirled, my skirt flaring out around me, and when I turned back, I collided with someone’s chest.

“Sorry!” I said, looking up—and froze.

It was him. He was closer than I’d ever seen him, his body crowding mine, his expression unreadable. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. His gaze was heavy, intense, like he was trying to see through me. He was drunk—or high, or both—his eyes glassy, his movements slightly uncoordinated. But there was no mistaking the way he looked at me. It wasn’t the way he usually did, with that lazy, dismissive smirk. No, this was different. Raw. Desperate.

“Why are you always fucking smiling like that?” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. His words slurred slightly, but the edge in his tone was unmistakable.

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He stepped closer, his chest brushing against mine, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath, mingling with the faint scent of weed. “I said, why are you always fucking smiling? Like you don’t have a care in the world. Like you’re so fucking perfect.”

His words stung, but there was something else there—something that made my heart pound harder. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to breathe. He was so close, his presence overwhelming, and for the first time, I didn’t want to pull away.

“I’m not—” I started, but he cut me off.

“Yeah, you are,” he said, his voice dripping with frustration. “And it’s pissing me off. You’re always laughing, always dancing, always touching people. Like you want everyone to look at you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I wasn’t trying to—“

“You were,” he interrupted, his hand gripping my wrist. His touch was rough, almost painful, but I didn’t pull away. “I’ve been watching you all night. And you know what? I’m fucking done.”

Before I could respond, he yanked me away from the crowd, his grip tight on my wrist. My heart raced as he led me through the house, weaving past people who were too drunk or too high to notice. He didn’t say a word, just dragged me up the stairs, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed ahead.

When we reached the hallway, he shoved open the first door he found and pulled me inside. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the walls. He let go of my wrist, and I stumbled backward, my back hitting the door as he closed it behind us.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his hands gripping my hips as he pinned me against the door. His breath was ragged, his body hot against mine, and I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled, his voice low and rough. “You know that? Every time I see you, it’s like I can’t think straight. And tonight… tonight, I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t give me the chance. His lips crashed into mine, rough and demanding, and I gasped against his mouth, my hands flying up to his chest. He didn’t kiss me the way I’d expected—it wasn’t soft, or gentle, or sweet. It was wild, desperate, like he was trying to erase every thought in his head and fill it with nothing but me.

His hands moved from my hips to my waist, then higher, roughly grabbing my breasts through my shirt. I moaned into his mouth, my body responding despite the chaos in my mind. He kissed me harder, his tongue sliding against mine, and I could taste the alcohol on his breath, feel the heat of his skin through his shirt.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he muttered against my lips, his voice thick with frustration. “Dancing like that, laughing like that… you wanted this, didn’t you?”

I didn’t know what to say. My head was spinning, my body on fire, and all I could do was cling to him as he kissed me again, his hands roaming over my body like he couldn’t get enough.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, filled with something I couldn’t quite place—anger, desire, maybe both. “Tell me you wanted this.”

I hesitated, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. I didn’t know what I wanted—or maybe I did, and I was too scared to admit it. But the way he looked at me, the way his hands felt on my body… it was intoxicating. Overwhelming. And I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“I… I wanted it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kissed me again, harder this time, his hands moving to my ass as he lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my back pressed against the door as he carried me to the bed. He dropped me onto the mattress, his body hovering over mine, his eyes burning into me.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. “And I’m not letting go.”

His hands were everywhere, rough and insistent, pulling at my clothes until they were nothing but a pile on the floor. His lips found my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, and I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair. He was relentless, his touch leaving marks on my body, his breath hot against my skin.

When he finally entered me, it was rough, almost painful, but I didn’t care. I wanted it—wanted him—more than I’d ever wanted anything. His hands pinned mine above my head, his body moving against mine with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect. I cried out, my nails digging into his back, and he groaned low in his throat, his hips slamming into mine.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice strained. “And you’re mine. Mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of our breathing, our moans, the bed creaking beneath us. He was everywhere, his body, his scent, his touch consuming me completely. And when I finally came undone, it was with his name on my lips, my body trembling beneath his.

He didn’t stop. Not then, not even as I tried to catch my breath, my body still shuddering with the aftermath. He kept going, his pace unrelenting, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew there’d be bruises later. But I didn’t care. I just wanted more. More of him, more of this, more of the chaos that had always been between us.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “Say you’re mine.”

I hesitated, my mind still hazy with pleasure. But then he thrust into me harder, and I gasped, my body arching off the bed. “I’m yours,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m yours.”

He groaned, his body tensing above mine, and then he was coming too, his hands tightening on my hips as he buried his face in my neck. For a moment, neither of us moved, the room silent except for the sound of our breathing.

Then he pulled away, rolling onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the ceiling, his expression unreadable. I didn’t know what to say either. My mind was still reeling, my body still humming with the echoes of what had just happened.

Finally, he turned to look at me, his eyes dark and intense. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and firm. “And I’m not letting you go.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, he leaned over me, his lips capturing mine in another searing kiss. His hands slid up my thighs, spreading them apart, and I could feel him growing hard again. “Again,” he muttered against my lips, his voice rough and demanding. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He flipped me over with a brutal urgency, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I could feel the sting of his fingers digging into my skin. My breath hitched as I felt him press against me, hard and unyielding, his body radiating a heat that made me shiver. He didn’t wait, didn’t tease—he thrust into me in one swift, unforgiving motion, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice was low, guttural, a growl that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arched, and his lips brushed against my ear as he repeated, “You like it rough.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, dripping with dominance.

I could barely nod, my body already teetering on the edge, but he didn’t need my confirmation. His hips snapped against mine, each thrust harder, faster, more punishing than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, mingling with my muffled moans and his ragged breathing. I could feel him everywhere—his body pressing me into the mattress, his hands gripping me like he wanted to leave bruises, his presence consuming me completely.

His hand left my hair and came down hard on my ass, the sharp smack making me gasp. Pain and pleasure collided, sending a wave of heat through me that made my toes curl. He did it again, harder this time, and I cried out, the sound swallowed by the pillow under my face. “Good,” he growled, his voice rough with approval. “You take it so fucking well.”

His hand moved to my throat, his fingers wrapping around it with a firm grip that made my pulse race. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off my air, but the pressure was enough to make me feel dizzy, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. “Mine,” he muttered, his voice a dark promise.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost savage, and I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. He leaned over me, his chest pressing into my back, and his lips brushed against my ear again. “Come for me,” he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. “Do it. Now.”

It was like a command I couldn’t disobey. My body shattered, pleasure crashing over me in waves that left me trembling, my nails digging into the sheets as I tried to anchor myself. He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover—he kept going, his grip on my throat tightening slightly as he chased his own release.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural groan that sent shivers down my spine. His hips slammed into mine one last time, and I could feel him shuddering behind me, his body tense and rigid before he finally relaxed, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

He didn’t move for a long moment, his breathing heavy and uneven against my back. Then, slowly, he pulled out, his hand leaving my throat to grab my hip and flip me onto my back. His eyes burned into mine, dark and intense, and I could see the raw need still lingering in them.

“Again,” he said, his voice rough and demanding. His hand slid down my body, his fingers brushing against my sensitive flesh, and I shivered at the touch.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off with a kiss that was more of a claim than anything else. His tongue invaded my mouth, his hands roaming my body with a possessiveness that left no room for argument. He was relentless, insatiable, and I knew there was no stopping him—not that I wanted to.

His hand found my throat again, his grip firm but not crushing, and he broke the kiss to look down at me, his eyes blazing with something primal. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice low and fierce. “Say it.”

I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, but the look in his eyes left no room for defiance. “I’m yours,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

He smirked, a feral, satisfied expression that made my stomach twist with a mix of fear and desire. “Good girl,” he growled, his hand releasing my throat to trail down my body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Now let me show you what that means.”

His mouth found mine again, and I could feel him hardening against me, his hunger far from satisfied. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was the way he made me feel—owned, desired, completely and utterly his.

His hand slid between my legs, his fingers teasing me until I was gasping, my body arching off the bed. “Again,” he muttered against my lips, his voice rough with need. “I want to hear you scream.”

[jeremiahhawkinsfanfics]

JAYCE & VIKTOR FIND THE CLOTHING OF JAYCE’S FATHER IN THE ATTIC 👔🥹🕸️

… and Viktor’s worst fear is revealed!!!

Read the whole fic on AO3 😉

“No, Jayce, you are not going to Zaun dressed like that.”

Their research was progressing well. Long nights at the lab had finally allowed them to stabilize the crystals safely, paving the way for their first Hexgate experiments. They were on the verge of designing their first prototype, but were running low on crystals. Even though he was a bit reluctant to bypass the rules now they had the official approval of the Academy and the support of the Council, Jayce had admitted that Viktor was right: it would be a waste to let weeks of progress stall over consuming administrative procedures when the materials they needed were within reach, in the Undercity.

“Time is critical”, Viktor had pointed out. “The faster we figure this out, the sooner we can improve people’s lives”.

This morning, as they decided it was the right time to go for an excursion in the Lanes, Jayce took his courage in both hands, and proudly arrive at the lab, ready to face Zaun’s dangers for the sake of science and progress. He couldn’t have been more surprised when he was greeted by a mocking look on his partner’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Jayce asked, genuinely puzzled.

“You could just as well go down with ‘Piltie’ written on your face” Viktor said, gesturing to Jayce’s Academy uniform and warm coat. “A perfect target for robbers… or burglars”.

“Burglars? Don’t you mean muggers?” Jayce asked, confused by the choice of word.

“Burglars can spot you, follow you to find your home, and plan something” Viktor clarified, his tone flat, as if underlying something perfectly obvious. “But yes, muggers are also a concern.”.

Jayce’s eyes widen in realization, his heart skipping a beat. “Could it be that I got spotted in the Undercity last time? And that’s why my place was broken into?”

The memory of the explosion – the force of it throwing him against the wall like a ragdoll, his ears ringing from the shock before he passed out – still burned in his mind. That was another reason Jayce wasn’t thrilled about breaking the rules again to retrieve more crystals. The thought lingered as he tried to push it aside. He knew Viktor was probably right about the dangers in Zaun, but it didn’t make him any more eager to go back.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, already preparing to leave, securing a bag under his worn coat.

“It will be once we stop at your mother’s place for you to change clothes,” Viktor answered flatly. "What worries you?”

“Last time… well, you know…” Jayce trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. He knew they could both remember the missing wall of his latest appartment.

Viktor nodded in understanding and offered a reassuring smile.

“Last time, someone broke into your house. We won’t let that happen at the lab. Besides, you’re with me now. We won’t get followed, nor scammed.”

Jayce smiled back, grateful for his partner’s calm certainty. Viktor was right. It was just a matter of being careful this time. And with an authentic Zaunite by his side, navigating the dangers of the Undercity would be far easier. Anyway, he knew all too well that if he didn’t go with him, Viktor would go on his own – and Jayce was far too scared of what could happen to him. Not that he doubted him, but Viktor still was crippled – he couldn’t run if he was attacked and would be an easy target for any ill-intentioned aggressor down there. Jayce couldn’t let that happen. Never.

Looking at his partner, he couldn’t help but notice his clothing.

“And why exactly do I need to change, while you are still wearing your uniform and your coat?”

“Because I know the people we’re going to meet” Viktor replied. “And because I don’t have a rich Piltie face”.

Jayce frowned, still doubting the logic, but he knew better than to contradict Viktor when he was certain about something. When Viktor decided he was right, trying to argue was a nightmare — by now, Jayce knew to pick his battles. They stopped at the Talis House, and spent the next hour rifling through Jayce’s wardrobe. Viktor inspected each item with a critical eye.

“Don’t you have anything that doesn’t look brand new?” he asked with a weary voice.

“Nothing here is brand new, Vik.” Jayce replied with a laugh.

“Well, everything looks like it is” his partner sighed.

“I won’t apologize for taking care of my things”

They were about to give up when suddenly, an idea struck Jayce’s mind. There were old and worn clothes in this house, but they weren’t in his room. A shiver ran down his spine as he instinctively looked up. He never dared to even think about it before — would they even be his size?

“Wait… I think I have an idea… Wait for me here.”

Before anything, Jayce made sure his mother wasn’t home—she planned to meet a friend for the day, but he needed to be certain she had already gone. He knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to do. When he knew the path was clear, he climbed to the attic and opened the trapdoor, a heavy cloud of dust invading his nose and throat.

The smell reminded him of the last time he came here, how he had fought to get that damn mattress out of here and dragged it up to their lab. He chuckled at the memory— the fight had been worth the effort, for all the late nights of progress and the cozy mornings after. He also felt like sleeping next to each other had brought him and Viktor closer, and he was very happy about it. He had never clicked like that with anyone before. Sometime he even missed sleeping next to him, when they didn’t sleep in the lab for more than a week.

The attic was the resting ground of his family’s memories – a quiet place for his beloved childhood toys, family albums, his mother’s old books, travel souvenirs, and scratched furniture to rest in peace after a lifetime of good service. Everywhere Jayce looked, something dragged a fond smile to his face — his old telescope, from when he was fascinated by astronomy, his mother’s old sofa, where she used to knit when she was younger, and albums from when he was a baby — the ones he’d need to hide if he didn’t want his mother to embarrass him by showing them to Viktor. But he wasn’t looking for those right now.

He shuffled for a while between old boxes, forgotten objects and spider webs.

“Where on Runeterra did Mama put this…”.

Emerging from the organized chaos, the corner of something large caught his eye. There it was: an old, bulky luggage. Just seeing it shook his heart. With careful hands, he wiped away the dust that had been colonizing it for years. The luggage was so large and heavy that despite his strength, he struggled to carry it back to his bedroom.

“What’s this?” Viktor asked, sitting on the bed, raising an incredulous eyebrow as Jayce set the oversized luggage in the center of the room. Dust bunnies scattered in all directions, as though they had been awakened from a long slumber.

Jayce swallowed, his fingers brushing over the buckles, where the “T” of House Talis was engraved.

“That’s... my father’s old clothes.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, his body freezing.

“Oh…” he murmured, his voice small.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, as though there was a third person in the room – someone present through their absence, embodied by the old luggage. Jayce took a deep breath, summoning the courage to open it. The rusted hinges creaked as the clasps clicked open, and a cloud of dust billowed into the air, making them both cough.

Awaken from years-long sleep, his father’s clothes lay neatly folded, a pile of fabric preserved by time. Jayce’s hand shook as he dared to run his fingers over them, reacquainting himself with the long-forgotten textures. There was the shirt his father used to wear in the forge, the vest he wore when they went on picnics in Piltover’s parks, and the velvet trousers he’d tugged on as a child, asking for stories. Each piece seemed imbued with memories—some vivid, others faded, and many he didn’t even recall.

“Jayce, are you sure about this?” Viktor asked, his voice laced with concern.

Jayce glanced back, meeting his partner’s eyes. He could see the worry there — the deep care for how this could affect him, as though it was more dangerous than venturing into Zaun to buy illicit materials. To be fair, Viktor wasn’t wrong. It did mean something to him, but it was the only old clothes he had to work with.

“Yes, I’m sure. Come on, help me find something.”

Reluctantly, Viktor joined in, carefully inspecting the clothing in the luggage. His long and pale fingers were brushing on the old fabric with a form of respect – reverence even – that they didn’t had for Jayce’s own clothing in the wardrobe. Jayce smiled as he noticed it.

Each piece they pulled from the luggage brought a new memory to the surface. It wasn’t as painful as he feared – in fact, it was endearing, almost fun, like flipping through a forgotten family album. Jayce was relieved to realize that, he almost felt proud of himself. For so long, the precious memories with his father were tainted by the pain of grief. It wasn’t completely gone – like a very old scar – but it felt healed. Knowing he could now safely rediscover his father’s old belongings and reconnect to him brought a quiet joy in his heart. This actually felt like the closest thing he had to spending a moment with his dad since he died.

They ended up spending more time than they expected, rifling through the old luggage. Jayce marveled at the memories each item evoked. Viktor didn’t rush, smiling at the stories he told him – and Jayce appreciated his patience. It was a very intimate moment for him to share, and he couldn’t imagine anyone better than Viktor for that.

“How about this?” his partner asked holding up a shirt that must have been white before time tainted it, stained with black marks.

“Oh, that’s one of his forge shirt!” Jayce exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

He could clearly picture his father wearing it in their family forge, working close to the fire, wielding a hammer marked with the Talis symbol—the very image of a hero in Jayce’s childhood eyes. A fond smile spread across his face, and he gently took the shirt into his hands.

Jayce removed his own shirt and carefully slipped into his father’s old one. He noticed Viktor, as usual, looking away when he undressed. It had become a habit over time. It made Jayce laugh, though. It seemed ridiculous considering how many times they’d shared the same bed, barely clothed. To Jayce’s eyes, friend’s nudity wasn’t something to shy away from. He’d gotten used to it in school and during sports. But maybe Viktor didn’t had the same experience, which he could understand.

“You don’t have to turn away every time I change, you know?” Jayce chuckled.

Viktor’s cheeks flushed red, and his gaze remained fixed on the far wall. A playful smirk tugged at his lips – the one he wore when he was fighting embarrassment with irony.

“Oh, was the strip meant for my eyes? Eh, a little desperate as a flirting technique, don’t you think?” he teased, still keeping his gaze away from Jayce’s naked skin.

Jayce laughed at the jab. He had grown fond of Viktor’s humor, especially the teasing ones.

“I just meant I’m used to changing in front of friends. You get used to it when you play team sports. So, yeah, don’t feel like you have to look away.”

Viktor scoffed, but didn’t answer – neither did he turn his eyes back to him.

To Jayce’s surprise, the forge shirt fit perfectly, maybe even a little snug around the shoulders. The realization hit him hard. He was as tall as his father now—maybe even slightly larger. It felt absurd. His father had always been that towering figure — the one who bent down to ruffle his hair, kneeled to explain important things, sat him on his laps to tell stories, and laughed while carrying him on his shoulders. And now, he was the same size. What would it have been like to look his father in the eye, not as a child but as a man? The thought made something tighten in his chest, his mind overwhelmed with emotion.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him back in the present. He turned, meeting Viktor’s soft, concerned gaze.

“Are you ok?” his partner asked, his voice low.

Jayce smiled and nodded, though inside, his chest swelled with warmth. Yes, he was okay — moved, certainly. But he was fine. In fact, he felt proud, standing here, as tall and strong as his father had been. He was sure his father would be proud of him too. That thought wrapped around his heart like a quiet embrace, filling him with a glowing sense of connection that defied time – as if he was hugged by his dad beyond the frontier between life and death. He basked in this feeling, a bright smile shining on his face.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m fine.”

They continued sorting through the clothes, finally settling on an old pair of shoes that had seen better days, a velvet pair of trousers stained at the knees, and a thin coat Jayce remembered his father wearing on cool spring mornings.

“So?” Jayce asked, showing off his new look. “Do I look Zaunite?”

Viktor shrugged, an amused smile spreading across his face as he sat on the bed.

“Nothing’s going to make you look Zaunite — not any more than I can really look Piltie. But it’ll blend in. At least you’ll look the part. We just need to do something with your hair. It’s way too neat.”

“Ah, sure!” Jayce agreed, crouching down slightly so Viktor could reach his hair easier.

With hesitant hands, Viktor reached up, running his fingers through Jayce’s hair. His touch was slow, methodical, but unexpectedly gentle, more careful than Jayce had anticipated… almost appreciative. Without thinking about it, Jayce found himself leaning into his touch. His partner initiating physical contact was rare, but he loved when it happened.

“I… I think you’re good to go” Viktor stammered, satisfied with the result.

When Jayce stood, he caught sight of Viktor’s face flushed with a slight blush, his eyes deliberately trained on anything but him. Jayce almost felt bad that he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable that might have made his partner. But before he could apologize, he was abruptly interrupted.

“KURVA!!!” Viktor screamed as he hastily pulled his legs onto the bed, nearly tripping over the cover.

Jayce followed his partner's terrified gaze. On the side of the luggage, a large black spider had emerged, its long, thick legs gripping the old leather.

“Ugh… This one is ugly” Jayce conceded, his face scrunching in disgust.

“KILL IT!” Viktor screeched, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

Jayce turned to his partner. His eyes were wide, locked on the uninvited eight-legged guest. He couldn’t help but stare back, incredulous. The situation wasn’t new to him – he’d been the hero of the day for his mother when a mouse had lost its way in the house. But Viktor? The measured, logical, composed scientist who was not afraid to break in Heimerdinger’s office, launch dangerous experiments on unstable crystals, or head down to the Undercity for materials without flinching… terrified on something so small?

“Vik… Don’t tell me you’re afraid of spiders?” Jayce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Have you LOOKED at this MONSTER?! What are you waiting for?! KILL IT!"

"It won't hurt you, you know," Jayce laughed, slowly taking off his shoe.

“Do I look like I fucking care?!” Viktor’s voice was strained. "Stop laughing and KILL IT!"

"It’s okay, I’ve got it," Jayce said with a reassuring—maybe a little teasing—smile. "You can leave the room if you’re scared."

"I AM NOT MOVING UNTIL THIS HORROR IS DEAD!" Viktor shouted, eyes still locked on the terrifying eight-legged monster. "You’re not even looking at it! What if it escapes?!"

"Then you wouldn’t see it anymore, and problem solved," Jayce said, carefully raising his shoe above the creature.

"Solved? No, Jayce!" Viktor practically screamed. "The only thing worse than a spider is a DISAPPEARED spider!"

With a swift and efficient movement, Jayce adjusted his position and smashed the shoe down. The sound echoed in an expectant silence.

“… Did you get it?” Viktor whispered, his eyes fixed on the shoe.

Jayce slowly looked under his sole, where the remains of the terrible monster lay.

"Yes, it’s dead! You’re saved, Vik!" Jayce proudly announced, as if he’d just slayed a dragon.

Viktor mumbled an embarrassed thanks, his face flushed with a mix of relief and shame.

"We’ve wasted enough time. We should head to Zaun," he said, eager to shift the conversation.

Jayce closed the luggage and carefully carried it back to the attic, cleaning up the dust left in its wake. They left the Talis House for less welcoming venues—places where dangers were more real than spiders.

Read more on AO3

Extract from Loving is Caring - CHAPTER 4 - Ghosts of the Undercity 😊

Thank you for reading ❤️ Feel free to leave kuddos & comments ❤️

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Last Cupbearer, Part 3: James Confronts His Past

For Part 2, click here: https://www.tumblr.com/mulletpermsicantlookaway/778889466409582592/the-last-cupbearer-part-2-devin-decides

The four of us escorted Devin home, with either Jeremy or Steve dribbling the basketball most of the time. On the way back, we stopped in a park and shot a few hoops. It was super casual. James and I can play basketball; we’re jocks, after all, but we aren’t serious competition for two members of the basketball team. On the way back to Steve’s, I asked, “So, could you bros fill me in? What’s this device that someone put on this Ben dude?”

James gave me a strange look, then said, “I think Jeremy’s probably figured it out, if he remembers any of what I told him a while back.”

Jeremy said, “Bro, you mean one of those Cups you talked about? Is that what happened to Ben?”

“It has to be, bro,” said James. “The way he’s acting, and the way you can smell it, Steve and I could tell from your description right away. We thought they were all gone, but obviously there was at least one left. Didn’t you say that Coach Sanders told you there were only a few of them left?”

“Yeah, dude,” agreed Jeremy, “that’s exactly what he said.”

“So,” James continued, “I was sure it was a Cup, but I asked Derek about Ben anyway. Derek never said anything outright. He just said something like ‘Coach and I thought Ben should learn he’s not smarter than his bros. And Coach thought we might need another guy or two for spring sports.’  Not what I would have done to teach Ben a lesson, but it wasn’t up to me. I suppose Ben’ll end up being a better person in the long run, but, bros, I’ve got to be honest: I was happier when I thought those Cups were all gone.”

I said, “So, bros, at the risk of sounding dumb, am I the only guy here who doesn’t know what these things are? How do they work?”

Steve said, “It looks pretty much like a regular cup you’d wear with a jockstrap, but it’s more than that. One of the bros grabs a nerd, puts this Cup over his junk, and then the nerd can’t take it off.  It stinks like old gym socks and ball sweat. It makes your junk vibrate all the time so you’re super horny, but you can’t touch yourself. And if you try, it freezes you or jolts you so that you don’t try it again. The coaches are the only ones who know how to remove the things. But by the time they take it off, it’s too late, because the Cup has already started changing you into a jock. Makes your cock and balls huge, and it changes you in other ways, too.”

“No shit,” I said, “that is fucking twisted. And that’s what happened to you?”

“Right to the point, eh, bro? Yeah, that’s what happened,” said Steve, “but I mean, I hardly remember it now. And I don’t usually talk about it, but now it doesn’t seem like a big deal. It was a little uncomfortable, but no worse than a hard workout.”

“You were less thrilled at the time, Steve-o,” said James.

“Maybe, Jimbo, but I still don’t get why the Cups bother you so much.”

And suddenly James snapped: “You want to know why? Because I was the one who put that fucking thing on you, Steve-o, and I don’t even remember fucking doing it! I’m the reason you don’t like chess anymore, that’s why! It’s all my fault. I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t save my best friend, and I sure as hell couldn’t save myself! Look at me, Steve; how the fuck can you love me after what I did?” I was dumbfounded. I’d never seen James lose control. Ever.

“Jimbo, Jimbo, none of that,” Steve said soothingly. Steve seemed unfazed: “Come here, baby. Come here, my big, beautiful man.” Steve embraced his boyfriend and kissed him softly while James racked his bulky frame with sobs and tears distorted his face. I’ve got to tell you bros, it was a strange sight. You don’t expect to see a big dude like that crying. Jeremy and I looked at each other wondering if we should leave the two of them alone. But Steve motioned us to stay.

Steve said, “Jimbo, look at me. Look me in the eyes. I love you – you – just the way you are.  And you know I’ve never blamed you for anything that happened. Fuck! You’re not God, Jimbo. You did the best you could, and you’re way too smart to think it was all your fault. What brought this on, Jimbo? You know you don’t want to give up what we have together, and you sure as hell don’t want to be a nerd again, so why all this now?”

“I dunno, babe. Knowing that another nerd got a Cup put on him, probably,” James said, a bit more calmly. “I was fine; I was, and then Jeremy and Chase becoming jocks started to stir up old feelings. And then Devin – and Ben. You have to admit that what Devin is going through with Ben now is so much like what I went through with Tyler. But Tyler now, my best bro Tyler, that’s who really threw me for a loop, not that he had a clue. I was over at Tyler’s last night, you know, just chilling, watching a game, and Ty-boy started reminiscing about the two of us in grade school playing sports together. Fuck, Steve-o, I’m sure he believes it. He doesn’t remember now that he wasn’t always a jock. And that he and I didn’t fucking grow up playing sports together. But you know what’s worse? I remember what he does. I remember playing football with Tyler in grade school and hanging out with him and our little peewee football bros, just like it was yesterday. It feels so real, even though I still know in my head it never fucking happened. I’m going to be just like him, Steve-o; I’m sure of it. Soon, it’ll all be gone. My old self will be gone. I won’t remember anything but being a jock.”

“Babe, your old self won’t really be gone; he’s still part of you and always will be. Life is change, bro,” Steve said. “No one stays the same. No one. You think you wouldn’t have changed? Sure, you and Tyler and I changed more, well, dramatically than most people, but you still weren’t going to stay the same dude that you were forever. Jimbo, my man, my big, beautiful bro, for your sake and mine, it’s time to move the fuck on. And if that means you forget that you weren’t always a jock, that’s okay. You need to be okay with who you are now. Who you are is pretty hot shit, you know. You’ve got a ton going for you. Ask yourself, Jimbo, would you really want to go back? Would you really want to be a nerd again?”

James said, “No. No fucking way. Absolutely not.”

“Then stop trying to hold onto the past. Tyler’s not complaining, and neither am I.  You’re a fucking awesome dude, bro. Enjoy the life you’ve got. And be realistic, Jimbo. You know a guy as smart as you really should go to college, and your mother could never have afforded it. Now you’ll be able to go on a football scholarship.”

James wiped the remaining tears off his face with his hand. “I think I was hoping for an academic scholarship – at the time, anyway. I wonder what Dad would think, seeing me now. Would he be proud of me, I wonder.”

“Jimbo,” Steve said, “seriously: I’m sure if your dad were still alive that he’d be as proud of you as I am. Why wouldn’t he be? You’re a talented athlete, you’re fucking smart, and you take great care of your mom.”

“Almost the last thing he ever told me, Steve-o: ‘Take care of your mother; you’ll have to be the man of the house now.’ Damn. I didn’t mean to go there. At least I can still remember Dad, and I’m thankful for that, believe me.  I’m sorry; you’re right, as usual. I need to move on. I thought I had, but I hadn’t, not really. And bros,” James said, indicating Jeremy and me, “I’m sorry you had to witness me acting like a moron. Fuck, what a night! I don’t usually lose it like that.”

“Dude, you don’t need to apologize to Jeremy and me. We’re your bros; we’ve got your back,” I said. “Jeremy and I are super happy with our lives. Jeremy sure doesn’t blame you for anything, and as for me, well – Jeremy knows this already, but maybe you don’t. I made the same choice Devin’s making: I became a jock for love, bro. Seriously, Jeremy and I owe everything to you and Steve. And did you ever think that maybe the reason you had to go through what you did is so that you’d be there to help Devin when he needed you? So that we’d all be there to help Devin when he needed us?”

“I hadn’t thought of that, actually,” said James. “I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself. I forgot to think about my bros, and my bros need me. I’m sorry. You had my back, and now I need to have yours. You’re absolutely right, Chase, and thank you. Thank you and Jeremy for being good friends, and thank you, Steve-o, for being the best boyfriend a bro could ever have. I sure don’t deserve you. You’re the hottest guy in school.”

“I always thought you were the hottest guy in school,” said Steve.

“I give, Steve-o. I’d love to argue with you, but I’ve never been able to say no to you.”

“I think Jeremy’s the hottest guy in school, so I have to disagree with both of you, but I think we’re all due for a group bro hug,” I said, embracing as much of James as I could and pulling Jeremy in with me.

After a few moments, James said, “Thanks again, bros. That helped a lot. Now we’d better head for home and be ready to help Devin become the best bro he can be.” James paused, then said, “Steve-o, I think I’m finally ready to clear out my closet and get rid of my old nerd shit. Maybe I’ll keep a comic book or two. There were some pretty hot dudes in a couple of them.” He grinned.

“Good for you, Jimbo,” Steve replied. “I’ll help, if you want. You’ll keep the story, though, won’t you?”

“Story?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said Steve, “Jimbo wrote down the whole story of what happened to him, you know, with the Cup.”

“Dude, sick!” I said. “I had no idea. That’s so cool! I’d like to read it.”

“Maybe, bro, maybe I’ll let you read it,” James said. “Funny thing about that story: I read it again last night, after I got back from Ty-boy’s place. I hadn’t looked at it in a long time. It’s good, I suppose, that I wrote it down, but now it just reads to me like some sci-fi story I made up. A lot of what I said happened I don't remember now, and I sure don’t remember being that guy. It's not who I am anymore. It just doesn’t seem real.”

“Look, bro,” I said, “If the story’s good, it doesn’t matter if everything in it is real, does it?”

James looked at me for a moment, then he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I suppose not,” he said. “Sure, if you want to read it, dude, read it, and then you can tell me what you think. Right now, Devin’s what’s important.”

“You know,” said Steve, “I’m glad we’re helping Devin. He’s a good little dude. I think he’ll make a great bro. Who knows, maybe Dev and I will both end up back on the chess team again. Our bros might need us.”

“Maybe, Steve-o. Maybe. Stranger things have happened. I should fucking know,” James said.

To be continued

[deviousdevilx]

Because I have little self control; here is a fic? wip based on THIS post right here, may be several years late but anyways!

Warnings for violence, abuse, alcohol abuse, dub-con, and just Kreese being horrible! ;)

Part 1/??

Johnny looked like absolute shit. No that was an understatement, Daniel was hurting just looking at the guy. Former-bully, brief romantic partner, who then disappeared, only to show up looking like a tenderized piece of meat.

Bruises littered his body, there was a cut on his brow covered by a bandage, a swollen black eye, even a split lip. Clearly whatever had happened occurred a few days ago given the level of healing underway, and yet, yeesh it was bad!

Daniel hadn't seen Johnny in months! Almost an entire year after that one evening where Johnny finally opened up about his troubles with his step-father to Daniel. It took a few beers, and Daniel prodding him incessantly to get an answer while he was so down in the dumps, and chugging beers like water.

His step-father cut off all financial aid, including his college fees. Johnny had no option but to drop out. Daniel had offered to help him get set up for loans, but Johnny had brushed him off.

"What for? I can't get loans or any stupid aid because my step-dad's wealth, you didn't think I looked into?"

"I just, look there is something we can do, work part-time, study-part time, jeez Johnny you can't give up that easily!"

Johnny had crossed his arms shooting Daniel a hard glare, "You don't understand that bastard wants to ruin me, he hates my guts! A job? Never worked a single job in my life, all I did was school and karate. Nobody gonna hire me without a reference."

He bent forward, rubbing his hands over his face, his life was fucked as he knew it.

"Johnny...we'll figure something out."

Over the past few months Daniel and Johnny had gotten closer, and closer. Sharing their first kiss in a drunken heat of the moment one night after they chased off some goons harassing an elderly couple. Overcome with adrenaline of fighting together rather than against, hearts-pounding, loosened inhibitions, buzzed with booze, once the couple was escorted safely home, Johnny dragged Daniel around the corner into a darken alley for a kiss. After that, it was history

It was scary, thrilling, and well, they still butted heads constantly, but now instead of using their fists, they started making out after arguments. Like a lot. Anywhere and everything they could, Johnny or Daniel would drag the other off somewhere private to make-up. Like two very horny teenagers, which they still kinda were, now only 19 going on 20.

It never got further though than hurried sloppy handjobs, heavy petting, and making out. Whenever it started to get more serious, more heavier, Johnny kept pulling away.

Partially due to inexperience, ignorance, but also fear. Johnny knew if he took that plunge, he couldn't deny to himself that maybe he was gay. Daniel was pretty, almost like a girl, with big brown doe-eyes, soft plump red lips, no curves though, although he filled out more since high school, no longer as scrawny but still nothing like a woman.

No, if they really slept together, in this climate, Johnny just couldn't handle the implication, the idea that he was anything but straight.

So he chickened out each time Daniel started to really strip them down.

Finally one night he snapped. Daniel did not deserve it, and the guilt weighed heavily on Johnny. He was so hard, aching for Daniel who's deft fingers were stroking his cock wonderfully and then he ruined it when Daniel told him how much he wanted Johnny to fuck him.

Yeah, Johnny did want that too but the shame was stronger.

"I'm no faggot like you LaRusso," Johnny spat out.

He didn't mean for it to sound so harsh, but when Daniel looked at him as if he struck him with his fists.

Daniel was gone and out of Johnny's lap faster than Johnny could even blink.

Shit.

Then it all came crashing down hard. His step-father, who loathed him but tolerated Johnny because of his mum pulled the plug on the financial support Johnny depended on. Somehow, or someone must have told him about Daniel. And that was it. Written out of his will, disowned, and thrown out.

Johnny did not have the heart to tell Daniel he was the reason why johnny was now in all intents and purposes, homeless and broke. He knew Daniel would house him though, take care of him, and that made it so much harder to accept.

Possibly a homo, broke, jobless, and needing support from Daniel LaRusso. His ego, his pride, all took too hard of a hit.

So he ran. Sold what he could, and booked a ticket somewhere cheap. He ended up in Thailand.

Where whether by the hands of Fate or some cruel joke of the universe, Johnny ran into John Kreese. A man he had not seen or heard from for years after he tried to kill Johnny or attempted to in the parking lot after the All-Valley tournament in 1984. That was now over two years ago.

"Johnny Lawrence, what a surprise to see you out here. Not a place for Valley boys," Kreese said with a smug grin.

"Fuck you man!" Johnny started to walk away but when Kreese called him back.

He paused. Johnny knew he shouldn't after everything Daniel had shared with him after they had graduated high school, and Johnny had moved out of the Valley.

A big fucking mistake.

But Kreese had said all the right things; he apologized, and at the time it sounded sincere, maybe a part of it was. Kreese implored Johnny to listen to him, let him buy him a beer, so they could talk things out properly.

And just like that, Kreese had his hooks back into Johnny all over again. A mix of praises interspersed with apologies, "You were my best student Johnny, and I stupidly tossed you aside so easily, I was wrong. You deserved better, and I intend to prove to you that I changed, I can make you great again Johnny." It was enough for a wounded Johnny to accept.

Kreese explains the shootfighting ring he is a part of, fought in himself. The money and glory he gets from it, but mainly the money. It's underground, practically illegal, and it brings it an absurd amount of money from the betting going on.

"People will pay big bucks to watch a real fight, none of this fake crap you see on television or in tournaments with their rules. There are no rules out here Johnny, no mercy, only the strong survive against the weak."

"It sounds dangerous."

Kreese had scoffed, and waved away Johnny's concern, "So what? That's the point, no pussies allowed, real men fighting real men. And you could be a champion. What do you got to lose huh? Daddy tossed you out, college is a no-go, but here Johnny I can make you into something great. Money, girls, fast cars, fancy clothes; all can be yours, if you let me help you."

Johnny had been very dubious about it.

Kreese knew that, "Lemme take you to a fight, check it out yourself, see what you're getting into okay? Don't gotta rush into things. I want what's best for you Johnny, something I should have done a couple years ago. Let me make it up to you."

Exhilarating was putting it lightly. The fights were BRUTAL. Vicious, primal, raw, and the skills, the fighting techniques, the no-holding back was awe-inspiring. The crowds were wild fueled by the ferocity of the fights; mad with the need for blood.

And yeah, there was a lot of money to be made.

Johnny looked at Kreese, and Kreese had looked at Johnny knowing he had the boy hooked good. Johnny was his all over again.

The training was brutal; Johnny was pushed to his limited. Kreese brought in fighters he knew from all over; Korea, Thailand, Nepal, Vietnam, Japan. All with various martial art techniques and forms of wrestling.

It felt good. He ate and breathed fighting. Even when he slept and dreamed, it was all about fighting. Except for the rare dream he had of Daniel; soft lips, a warm body, a hand on his cock...but those dreams were few a far in between. They left Johnny feeling shame.

Sometimes when he really needed an outlet for his sexual urges, there were plenty of hot Thai girls around. There were boys too, but...Johnny did not dare risk Kreese ever finding out he batted briefly for the other team. No way in Hell could Kreese find out!

His first fight was short, ruthless, and he barely won. He struck first, and fast. All that mattered in the end was he won. Stumbling from the fighting cage, Johnny could barely see or hear but felt Kreese grab his arm.

"Good job boy, you did it."

After a couple of hot chicks tended his injuries, the high Johnny felt from winning, just barely, wore off. Looking in the mirror, Johnny barely recognized himself. His face was half swollen. The moment of self-pity quickly disappeared recalling Kreese's praise. Johnny grinned even as it hurt.

There was blood, bruises, busted lips, swollen eyes shut, concussions, broken fingers, twisted ankles; the list of injuries grew and grew, but so did the wins. There was a few losses, and a few ties, but Johnny was rising in rank and wealth. The pain came with a lot of gain; money, girls, and booze.

That was until Johnny killed a guy. Knocked him out cold, and the man was rushed out of the ring. It was hours later when Johnny heard the news the guy died on the way to the hospital. Suddenly all his victories, gains, and money rolling in meant nothing. It was like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water down his back, the chill he felt, the dissociation he began to feel, disconnecting from reality; it wasn't real, maybe it was a different guy. Johnny Lawrence killed a guy! YOU KILLED A GUY, a voice screamed at him.

It was overwhelming. Johnny began to panic. So he turned to the man he trusted and believed.

"He's dead Kreese, I fucking killed a guy!"

"So what, I killed plenty in Vietnam, it's shit kid, I get it. But you'll get over it. It was a fight, it's a risk everyone takes stepping into that ring," Kreese told him.

Johnny did not want to die fighting though. But he kept that thought to himself.

"If it makes you feel any better, I got us a new gig, back in L.A, a new shootfighting ring is getting a lot of buzz. Might be nice to go home eh? I have an old friend there too I need to reconnect with."

Johnny had heard about Terry Silver from Daniel. The guy sounded like a fucking whackjob. How he and Kreese had plotted to humiliate Daniel. Another grievance he had against Kreese, another issue he chose to ignore, well because, Kreese was the only man Johnny trusted, had trusted, who cared about, taught him how to be a man, made him strong. He was also the man who hurt you Johnny, a small voice reminded him. He's still using you.

Fuck off, Johnny would tell that voice. Kreese BELIEVED in him, accepted him as he was. Not like his mom, Daniel, Ali, even his shitty step-father.

Things did not improve after returning to California and Los Angeles. They got much, much worse.

Kreese became more controlling, more demanding, and Johnny was falling part, mentally and physically. He was being treated more like a dog than a man. And every time Johnny began to pull away, Kreese reeled him back in; more promises, a few days off, a night with a girl, but always, always, Johnny was back in the gym, training, then fighting in the ring.

And then Kreese's friend showed up.

Terry Silver.

Tall, and gorgeous. And filthy fucking rich.

Possibly psychotic too.

When Kreese made them spar one evening, Johnny believed he was gonna die that night.

Terry was beyond skilled. His high kick nearly sending Johnny to the ER. The worst part was that Kreese laughed.

"I told you don't hit him too hard, I need him to fight in a few days."

Terry merely shrugged.

The humiliation burned. Worse than the throbbing pain in his jaw.

He was trapped.

So he turned to the only person he had left.

Daniel.

"I need your help LaRusso. I have no one else to turn too."

"Johnny...of course! Tell me what the fuck happened man?!"

And so Johnny told his sorry tale. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

"It's not all bad," Johnny began to rationalize what was happening, feeling guilt and shame for coming here, betraying Kreese who gave him so much.

"You're being forced to fight in an illegal shootfighting ring Johnny! It's pretty fucking bad! Look at you! He's destroying you!"

"You don't understand, you couldn't understand..."

"You want my help getting out right Johnny? I don't need to understand! Just stay here with me, we can, we can go to New Jersey for a while. I need to get you out of L.A for a while. Shit.'

Daniel decided he had some calls to make, but when he reached for the phone, Johnny had clamped a hand over his wrist, "Don't, look this was a mistake, I'm tired, I'm sore. I just...wanted to see you okay? I'm fine. It's fine, I'm making a lot of money!"

"Fuck Johnny it isn't FINE! This is fucked up! You're covered in bruises, a busted face! You'll be killed!" Daniel shouted in desperation.

"Shut it LaRusso, stop being so hysterical like a girl."

And then Johnny left.

So Daniel went looking for him.

Getting access to underground illegal shootfighting fights was not easy, and avoiding Mr. Miyagi's questions and Jessica's concerns became difficult the more he went out at night.

Eventually he found Johnny. And then someone had also found him.

"Not a safe place for someone like you Mr.LaRusso," a familiar voice spoke up behind Daniel.

The dread that crept up over Daniel was immediate. He knew that voice very well.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, "I got some good seats to watch the fight, why don't you join me?"

There was no escaping Terry Silver at that moment.

Trying to remain calm, Daniel was led over to a balcony area, and forced into a chair.

"It's been a while hasn't it Danny boy? You haven't changed a bit have you, I mean, your looks. Never lost that pretty boyish charm eh? You're lucky I picked you up, there is a lot of dangerous folk here tonight."

"And you don't include yourself among them?" Daniel snaps back.

Terry grins, "Oh I do, but I'm no danger to you Danny boy, look what I did to do back then was inexcusable, I was...not in a good place mentally."

Daniel was taken a back by the admission and semi-apology but before he could respond, he heard another familiar voice.

"Well well who do we have here? Mr. LaRusso? What a surprise!"

Kreese steps into the balcony holding a cigar.

Terry gives Kreese a cold look which Daniel picks up on quickly.

"John."

"Terry."

"You better not disappoint John, I put a lot of money down," Terry says.

For a moment Daniel is forgotten.

"Don't worry yourself Terry, I'm always right. So you two got reacquainted again ? How nice," Kreese says with a sneer, looking up and down Daniel with a hint of disgust.

The boy was everything Kreese despised. Soft, pretty, and most importantly weak. Winning by a fucking Crane kick! A fucking crime.

He was also an object of obsession for Terry. Something Kreese could use to keep his rich buddy in line with.

What Kreese did not realize until that night, he was also a weakness for his champion fighter.

When Johnny saw Daniel sitting with Kreese and Silver, his jaw nearly hit the floor! What the fuck was he doing here! With them no less!

Suddenly his single minded focus on the fight was shredded to pieces. His mind distracted by the fact Daniel was in danger. Did Kreese find out about them? That Johnny went to him one night out of weakness? Fuck! He had to get Daniel out!

His first fight it was clear he was distracted and nearly loss, winning by a margin. Kreese was furious.

It wasn't quite apparent yet, not until he saw the glances Johnny shot towards Daniel up in the balcony. His champion kept looking up with an expression Kreese did not like at all. Concern, concern one had for someone they cared about. He knew that look well. Kreese wasn't blind.

He would get to the bottom of this, whatever it was, but first he had to get Johnny's head back into the fight or he'll lose it.

TO BE CONTINUED!

[glitterghost]

.

[sailforvalinor]

.

[olcator]

just got my dad to put all the baby photos of me he has on hand into a flash drive so i can have em and oughhhhhhhh. i was literally like. a human person this whole time. i would go to war for her i would kill a man for him he was so snide and sarcastic for a literal nine year old but she deserves the world i have such strong mixed feeling because for a long time he felt like the adversary when in reality hes just me. also picture of really tiny baby me with cool sunglasses that made me snort. hell yeah cool baby

[lesbianprophecy]

It’s interesting

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in it, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[aeragan]

ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ ⨟ ʜꜱʀ ᴍᴇɴ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ inspo: Satellite by Smash Mouth (i'm serious)

★ in which: his mind drifts off to when he's thinking about you.

✧ a/n: grinded too hard on this feeling like a degenerate. healthy body healthy mind tho :P

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn reader, window fucking, manhandling, oral, overstimulation, dacryphilia, shibari, frotting, edging, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, blowjobs, vague a/b/o if you squint, biting, clawing, cockwarming, pegging, getting caught, fliming, biting, clawing, predator/prey, slight corruption kink? (virgin reader in welt's), voyuerism, toys, stacking donuts on it, whipped cream, etc etc, blowjobs, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

⎯ Aventurine

Rest assured, AVENTURINE has all sorts of dirty thoughts running around in his mind. Some are jokes, he’ll bring up fucking you on the poker tables, but he never really means it. That one is far too outrageous for even him, he doesn’t want to damage his and your reputations. As much of a celebrity he is, there are certain things he likes to keep away from the media, and that includes you. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the press from spreading rumors that he does, in fact, have a partner.

However, one of his fantasies isn’t far off from that idea. There’s something so scandalous about having you pressed up against the window, stripped completely, as he fucks into you. What are the odds someone were to look all the way up at his apartment, at that specific window? Will they see you? Will they see him? It sends a thrill down his spine, just to think about it. 

It’s not as if anyone would recognize you from that far up, and the same goes for Aventurine, but it’d be something to fan the flames of the rumors, no? It’s not like his apartment is public knowledge, thank Qilpoth. But being able to show you off like that, at your most vulnerable, in the most intimate way possible… and all his.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

VERITAS does not allow himself to think of such lewd thoughts throughout the day. It is inappropriate for someone of his position, and as much as he loves you, he doesn’t wish to distract himself. When he’s off work however, and especially when he has time with you, he doesn’t mind indulging in your fantasies. Your fantasies are his, he believes, and he’d do all he could to keep you happy, no matter how lewd it is.

However, you’ve noticed one thing he particularly enjoys is throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom, before keeping you on edge all night. It’s an artform that he’s perfected. Every lingering touch, every disapproving stare when you beg for more, as if you’re just so impatient. And yet, he praises you. Every single word goes straight to your core, causing you to whimper and shiver under his touch. And he rewards you with more praise, all while you feel as if your sanity is holding on by a thread.

If he finally has a day off that night? Good luck. His job isn’t exactly easy, you know, and a lot of times he feels particularly stressed… and what could make him feel better? That’s right. Indulgence. He wants you to be a trembling mess, perhaps even a crying mess, to be so reliant on him for your orgasm while he enjoys whatever he can. He buries his head between your thighs most often, feasting like a famished man, yet always pulling back when your moans become too loud.

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL doesn’t have many fantasies, not now, anyways. Especially sexual fantasies. He’s got all he wants when it comes to you, to taste you whenever he wishes, play with you how he likes. He likes to focus on your pleasure above his, even if he got his cock installed, sometimes he forgets he has it.

However, one thought has plagued his mind ever since he first saw you bare. He curses himself for always coming back to what he knows is destroyed and gone, and yet, he can’t help but see it so clearly. To make love to you; yes, proper lovemaking, as much as he’s grown fond of the feverish way he devours you, he wants to take his time.

He pictures you riding him under the stars of his home planet, out in the plains. To feel the warmth of your skin against him, how the moon bathes you in its ethereal glow. He wants to enjoy the night of Aeragan-Epharshel, and he can only wish that he was human again. To feel you around him, the way your thighs would press against his sides, your hands on his chest. This thought has been the only one to make him wish he had still been human, still been alive, or had simply met you earlier.

⎯ Gallagher

GALLAGHER is a simple man. Any fantasy he’s had is already fulfilled, he likes to think. Someone to come home to, someone to jack off to (as crude as it is), someone to simply hold. Yet, tonight, he finds himself dreaming of you.

Oh, what a torturous week it’s been. Every shift has been excruciatingly slow, from dealing with petty theft (how is that possible within a dream?) to chatting with regulars in the Dreamjolt Holstery. Both of his workloads have doubled in size, it seems, and he was finally starting to feel the effects of stress, something he swore he never dealt with. Yet, in those stray moments in the storage room, his mind finds its way to you.

To have you naked, spread on the bed, waiting for him, it makes him bite his lip. Sure, when he gets home, he can always ask… but there’s something intimate about you knowing he had a bad day, that he needs to destress. He imagines all the ways he would take you, doggy, prone, have you ride him til you see stars… Perhaps he could text you and get the conversation going, but that would lead him to be distracted at work.

⎯ Sunday

As virtuous as SUNDAY is, he cannot help but let his dirty thoughts get the best of him. For so long he had been neglecting his sexual needs, deeming such impure thoughts a sin and an obstacle to his pursuit for true order. And yet, of course he couldn’t push such thoughts away. As your relationship progressed, his thoughts only became more wild and unrestricted– or at least, as ‘wild’ as a man so vanilla could get.

It’s only natural for a man so tied to order to like the idea of relinquishing control. Not that he’d voice it, of course. He was head of the Oak Family, and was expected to keep up his appearances as such. No one needed to know that in his head, he was submitting to you so easily. He enjoys being underneath you, able to relax while you handle everything else. Even if you were simply riding him, it’s something that feels freeing. He doesn’t have to be in control all the time, especially with you. This is his way of saying he feels safe, even in such an intimate manner.

He finds it hard to tell you, of course. He trusts you, but admitting that he likes something like that? He’s never talked so lewd before. To come up to you, bring up the conversation, and say he wants to try being pegged? He blushes at the mere thought. It’s not that you would say no, he isn’t afraid of rejection. He simply can’t fathom the words coming from his mouth. He doesn’t enjoy feeling pathetic, either… knowing that he’d be putty in your hands as soon as the tip pressed in.

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI, who submits to your every whim and desire, does his best to not act on his own. Because of his vow, he does his best to curb all indulgences, sinful or not. However, with you, he believes there is room for leeway. He can’t deny you, especially when the mere thought of you stirs up such delicious ideals, especially when you tell him all you’d like to do with him, and to him.

And that's when his mind wanders. When he’s alone, his mind occupied with thoughts of you and only you, he finds it hard not to touch himself. And so, he does, palming himself through his trousers as his breath becomes ragged. You’ll be back soon, he thinks, and it sends a shiver down his spine, making his cock twitch. What would you do if you were to catch him? Praise him? His cock twitches again, precum leaking through his trousers, as he continues to rub himself. Or perhaps you would scold him, how dare he do something so lewd. Without you. He can’t help the moan that falls from his lips.

He wants you to catch him, every single time. He leaves the door unlocked, sometimes leaving it open a crack, keeping his legs spread, angling his body towards the door. He does not mean to, but he tends to flaunt himself. It’s all he feels he can do as he waits, and waits, and waits. He needs you to see him before he makes a mess of himself, so proudly, all for you. You have caught him a few times, and you don’t disappoint when you do. Sometimes you do scold him, punishing him by deciding to finish the job yourself, only to leave him on the cusp, over and over and over, making him plead and beg you for more with such a beautiful face. Glossy eyed, flushed cheeks, raw lips, it’s wonderful to have such a pious knight at your mercy.

⎯Sampo Koski

You can never evade SAMPO, nor can you evade what dirty thoughts linger in his mind. He loves to tell you all he wishes he could do, either over the phone, over video, or in person. and he never ceases to get you hot and bothered. It’s simply the way of such a coy man, always eager to please and be pleased. Your satisfaction is guaranteed.

Of course he isn’t tame. When he’s horny, he has too much energy to spend, and it causes him to get antsy. He can’t focus until he gets off. So why don’t you help him with that, as much as you can? He’d like a little something he can keep with him forever, that’ll keep him going when you’re unavailable. So why not film your own porn with him? He introduces the idea with such fervor, beaming as he asks.

That becomes a habit. After a couple thousand watches, he decides he needs more. You can’t tell if he’s doing this to perfect his filming technique, or if he actually does just want more, or even both. The first one you two filmed wasn’t exactly the best, with his phone set up on the bedside table with the lamp as a stand. The shot wasn’t exactly perfect, but he could still see you riding him, and your moans were as clear as day. The second one is clearer, capturing your entire body as you rode his face, also with pristine audio of your moans. Do you see a pattern? It’s unclear if he likes to listen to it more than he likes to see it, as most of the time he is on the run. It doesn’t stop him from trying to film different positions, though.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Of course JING YUAN has all sorts of fantasies running around his head about you. When he’s just so bored with his duties, how can he not think of you? A little excitement keeps him wide awake in hopes he’ll be able to act on some of them when the day is over. Or, perhaps he could call you in to keep him company? So many options, he thinks, so little time. For now, he’ll have to keep himself occupied.

He’s not necessarily the most perverted man, but some of the things he conjures up makes him feel that way. Such a prestigious figure answering to his base desires, something about that is so lewd to him. From the outside, he seems calm as can be. But inside his mind, he sees you on your knees underneath his desk, his cock in your mouth, cheek pressed against his thigh as he pets through your hair. That’s not the only thought in his mind, however. To have you sit in his lap, or grind against his thigh as you do your best to quiet your moans, pausing when someone dares to enter his space.

One of his favorites, however, is dismissing everyone from the Seat of Divine Foresight, calling you in, having his way with you on the desk. Perhaps it is tame compared to the others, but there’s a certain thrill of it. The Cloud Knights that stand guard, would they know? Or perhaps they would assume it’s official business. Most people know of your relationship with the General, but sometimes a good reminder is needed. He’s not a jealous man at all, but sometimes the way people’s eyes linger on you irks him ever so slightly. To have you laid back on his desk, legs hooked over his shoulders as he sinks as deep as he can into you, not making an effort to hide your pleasure at all.

⎯ Blade

As stubborn as he is, BLADE doesn’t necessarily have fantasies. Unless you can count dying. What do you expect from a man like him? When he wants something done, he gets it done, and that includes sex. If he’s out on a mission where you can’t accompany him, then he does his absolute best to not think about his urges until he can get his hands on you again. Sure, he’s had his fair share of fantasies when he was Yingxing, but as Blade? Does a man like that deserve to have fantasies?

He only starts thinking about it when you ‘criticize’ him for it. When you share your fantasies with him, the most you get back is an ‘mh’ and a contemplative look. Is it wildly unfair that he doesn’t have such lewd fantasies? No. But you kicked up enough of a fuss about it and it made him start thinking. It was a blessing and a curse. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about your body, how you feel against him, your smell, every single part of you was suddenly put under such an alluring light. Senses within him that had been dormant for so many years suddenly reawaken.

Blade finds himself balling his fists every time he is away from you. He is suddenly more irritable and aloof, even anxious. For about a week every other month, a certain vision can’t leave his mind. You, naked and pressed against him, clinging to him as if he was your only lifeline. He has you seated on his cock, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to keep you there, as he takes all he can from your lips, swallowing every little moan as if he truly owned them. Something about having you simply seated on his lap, begging for more, doing your best to try and move yourself while he pushes you back down with a grunt, it makes his cock ache. At the same time, he can’t see himself being that patient, he’s always been so eager to ravage you.

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA is quite forward with his fantasies and you. He sees no reason to keep them to himself, the worst that could happen was that you weren’t into it, right? He doesn’t find himself fantasizing too much, however, his mind normally on his travels and his coffin. When he’s with you, however, his mind is alight with all sorts of scenarios, some as innocent and sweet as candy, and others scandalous and lewd.

One of his favorite things to indulge in is shibari, tie you up in such pretty patterns, and have his way with you. He quite enjoys the control he has over you, for a man so complacent to your whims. His favorite way to tie you up is the butterfly harness, the way it frames your build so perfectly, emphasizing all his favorite parts of you. Not only that, but it’s versatile, giving him the choice to tie your arms back, or leave them be. Sometimes he chooses not to, enjoying the way you feel him up so desperately, doing your best to coax him to let you cum. Other times, he enjoys tying your arms back, simply helpless underneath his touch, like the teasing asshole he was.

With you tied up, something he does quite often is drag you along his cock, laying beneath you almost leisurely while you moan and beg for more. He looks damn near angelic underneath you almost every single time, unbothered, his hair only slightly messed up, and a soft blush dusting his features. You can beg all you want for him to be inside you, and all he’d do is tut and say you were doing just as good like this, why would he need to do more? You hate his cocky demeanor when you're just so close to orgasm, and he’s so adamant on dragging this out.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Needless to say, JIAOQIU likes to turn up the heat in bed. Sex with him can be as gentle and leisurely as you want, or as rough and fast as you’d like. All you need to do is ask. That sly smile has never done you wrong, aside from perhaps a couple of love bites and claw marks down your back. He has always been fond of such things, finding that it felt as if it was in his nature.

He does his best to leave your skin untouched, especially the areas where people could see. But a curiosity always lingered in him, on those days where he had been yearning for your body the most. When he has no time to pamper you in all the ways he wants, when he can only admire your beauty from afar. His eyes drop from your face to your neck, and wonders just how beautiful that soft skin would be if it brandished his mark. Could he stain such beauty?

Of course he can. And if he were to, he’d expect full well the same treatment. He’d love to mark you up, allow others to know you are his. But he wants the same, as well. He feels insatiable, while your relationship is known, he wants people to know that you are his one and only. And that he is all yours. He strays from such visible places because of your professions, knowing that it isn’t exactly… in the dress code. Such a shame, he thinks. You’d look even more stunning with such a mark.

⎯ Moze

MOZE enjoys cleanliness above all. The less mess, the better. Condom on during sex, with a washcloth ready at any moment, he tends to come prepared. Needless to say, he’s an aftercare king. He has a shower ready after you two come down from the afterglow, and pampers you in his own special way each and every time. He’s not necessarily the most gentle during sex, but that doesn’t mean he’s too rough, either. Just enough to make your legs shake.

And… he’d quite like to bathe you after he’s caught you, as well. What a thrilling thing, chasing after a mark that just so happens to be his partner. Because you know, wherever you go, you can’t hide from him, on any of the Xianzhou Alliance’s ships. Even if he doesn’t know the layout of some, he will find you. It’s a chase that could last all night, for all he cares. The thought of it makes him shiver, and he can only hope you feel the same.

When he’d finally catch you, he’d haul you back to your place and make you wonder what he’d do to you, such a successful hunt should be rewarded, no? It’d be hard to keep calm in his arms, knowing that you’re in for a long night, one where you’ll inevitably end up sore. If you were to indulge, he’d make sure to do something different, every single time. He wouldn’t want this to get stale, after all. He likes the thought of you squirming in his arms, trying to get off somehow, with no idea what he’d bestow upon you that night. With consent, of course.

⎯ Dan Heng

As DAN HENG is a Vidyadhara, there’s not necessarily a lot that gets him off (yet). After all, they reproduced asexually, and for a while, he really had no sexual urges, or anything of the sort. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t set an example, however. He’s grown fond of watching you pleasure yourself in any way, shape, or form.

It started when he caught you masturbating one night, too shy to ask him for help, yet the urge was too strong to simply ignore it. It was stress relief, in a way. Needless to say, it ended up in a long talk about your own needs and his, and yet… he encouraged it. It sent heat straight to his belly and made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel. Just because of the night, his mind tends to wander when he has too much freetime on his hands, or when the express is quiet. It’s excruciating for him…

And so, he starts gifting you all sorts of toys. To experiment with, of course. He likes to watch you use them most of the time, from vibrators, to dildos, sleeves, anything he thinks you’d like. He prefers to watch most of the time, from right behind you, or from the edge of the bed, as if he were any closer, he’d be interrupting something. On the rare occasion you’d invite him to help, he does everything with such hesitance, everything still new to him. It is wonderful to watch his cheeks flush when you moan a little too loud.

⎯ Gepard

If you were to ask GEPARD if he had any fantasies, he'd blush and fluster and stutter over his words, before vehemently denying that he had any, no matter if you two were just dating, or married. It’s hard for the captain of the Silvermane Guards to admit what he’s into, aside from taking care of you.

What he doesn’t tell you is that secretly, he quite enjoys being at your mercy. For everything he’s done for you, he’d like it returned in equal amounts. He wants to be spoiled, in bed, outside of bed, whatever you can do for him. Who knew that the captain you’ve come to know and cherish would just love giving up his control? It is the ultimate trust to him.

There’s nothing he won’t do for you (except tell you his ‘darkest desire’), so go ahead, pamper him! Pull out the strap and watch his cheeks flush, he would find himself unable to deny it. Spoil him the way he spoils you, do all the ‘hard work’, and he’s putty in your hands. He moans low and quiet at first, too embarrassed to hear such a lewd noise come from himself. When he really gets into it, however, you can see his body relax, and he opens his eyes, watching your face as he allows all sorts of moans to spill from his lips.

⎯ Caelus

CAELUS is kind of awkward at sex. He’s not necessarily the best, but he’s not the worst, either. He likes to make things fun, who said fun can’t be sensual? Of course, he has all sorts of silly and stupid ideas floating around his head, and he’s not afraid to share them, either. Half the time you can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious.

Three stupid little sayings have stuck, however. His most favorite one to blurt out? Stack donuts on it! And as time goes on, he becomes more serious every single time he says it. To the point where he’s begging you to. It’ll be funny, he assures you, and hey, you’ll get a good treat out of it! So, are you surprised when you walk into his room and he’s sitting there, with a box of donuts, after he had talked about it all day? No. You shouldn’t be, anyways.

It’s more like game night than anything, really. You’re astonished at how he’s actually able to stay hard with all your snickering and giggling. He seems to be proud that he’s convinced you, and you’re really only at two donuts. And when you can’t stack anymore, he’s whipped out a can of whipped cream. For what, you ask? All he does is point at his tip, and you get the idea. What had been a joke (you thought), turned into perhaps the best head he had ever gotten.

⎯ Welt

Gentle and experienced, WELT doesn’t let his mind stray too far when he thinks about you. He sees it as intrusive, as much as he loves you. He does his best to be careful, to be as gentle as he can with you. Especially with the knowledge that you were a virgin. You two had talked in depth about what would happen if you were to have sex, and he had assured you he’d take good care of you.

After all, who else would be better? He does his best not to think about it, as you do, because you yourself had been feeling some type of way recently, and suddenly talking to him about it after you just had a conversation like that was nerve wracking. What would you do? What would he do? You tell yourself there really is no need to be shy, that you can just… ask. That’s all it would take.

He takes pride in it, of course. He allows himself that much. When you find yourself underneath him with his cock fully seated inside of you. The way he shudders and moans is almost pitiful, perhaps he is sensitive because he never quite imagined you’d be this warm and tight, and it has him near whimpering. Was he this old already? Or perhaps he has been out of practice. He does his best not to dwell on it, and when you're ready, every thrust has him whining. He grips at the sheets so hard, his knuckles turn white. It’s magnificent, really. To have a man with so many accomplishments under his belt moan so loud because he gets to take your virginity.

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[wcnderlnds]

opposites attract | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he's chaotic and loud, you're shy and introverted but he can't help but be intrigued by you ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: mentions of death bc squid game, nam-gyu is mean to reader (im sry), female reader. ・❥・ authors note: i love writing this chaotic man <3

Of course the second game just had to be one where you had to interact with people and find a team. Talking to people, approaching them – it was your worst nightmare. As you stood there in the sea of people all talking and teaming up, you timidly stayed in place, your hands pulled into the sleeves of your jacket giving yourself sweater paws. Since the first game, you had kept to yourself. You had even voted to leave. Why would anyone want to stay in a place like this where people were getting killed for losing children’s games? Unfortunately, the majority had decided to stay even after a heavily heated debate where player 456 had declared he’d been here before. While it was all kicking off, you had hid behind the crowd. Conflict was something you avoided. People were usually something you avoided but when a salesman came up to you with promises of money, how could you say no?

So, as you stood there, too shy to approach, you accepted the fact that you were probably going to die. There was no way you had enough courage in you to find a team. Even if you did, who was there to ask? The only person you might consider approachable was player 456 but he already had a team. There was no point going over there, asking and risking embarrassment as they turned you down. Aimlessly you wandered around the room, fingers toying with the ends of your sleeve – a nervous habit that you’d had since you were a child.

Guess you’d just have to accept your fate. You were either going to get killed because you couldn’t find a team or end up in a team who didn’t want you. Just as you were about to sit down and give up entirely, someone cleared their throat behind you. Spinning around, you came face to face with the infamous player 230. His purple hair was unmistakable, you’d seen him when he’d been fighting some other boy yesterday.

“Senorita, excuse me,” he said, his hands clenching his jacket to his chest. Your eyes landed on his multi-colored nails first before daring to glance up to look at him. Eyes met his dark ones for only a second before looking back down at the ground. He noticed instantly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “Team with us.”

“R-really?” You dared to glance back up. He seemed serious but the look his friend was giving was anything but friendly. It looked like he’d rather team with anyone but you.

“Yeah, really? She’s kind of weird,” Nam-gyu looked you up and down, pulling a face then turning back to Thanos. “We can find someo-”

“Shutup,” he held his hand up in front of his friend’s face, his eyes solely focused on you. “Team with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t like you had any other options so you nodded. Thanos seemed thrilled, throwing his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. Your instinct was telling you not to trust him but at the same time there was something slightly comforting about him. After all, he had ignored his friend to solely talk to you. Why on Earth he was so adamant to have you on his team baffled you but it saved you from getting eliminated… if you made it through the game anyway. 

Turns out it was five mini games in one. As the rest of your team argued about who would do what, Thanos’ eyes were fixated on you who was looking at the ground. There was something about you that intrigued him. The difference in your personalities was more than noticeable. He was loud, crazy and obnoxious while you, on the other hand, seemed shy, insecure and quiet. Maybe it was true. Maybe opposites really did attract because for some reason, he wanted to get to know you more. He actually wanted to know you. That rarely happened with him. Usually he was the type of guy to get a crush, fuck and then move on to the next one. It was rare for ‘Mr One Night Stand’ to really want to get to know someone. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. The pounding in his chest as he tried to examine you with his eyes. It was impossible to really get a good read on you.

“And, the loser over there can do Gonggi,” Nam-gyu’s voice echoed through your ears. Panic struck, you leaned forward, speaking before you even thought about it.

“I-I don’t know how to play Gonggi,” you mumbled.

“Better learn quickly then, huh?” Nam-gyu smiled fake-sweetly at you.

“Hey, stop it,” Thanos stopped his silent beat boxing to chime in, leaning forward to glare at his friend. “Leave her alone… What are you good at?”

“I can do spinning top. I played it a lot with my friends…” you tried to speak with a bit more confidence, a pink hue tinting your cheeks. Thanos noticed, grinning at you.

“Spinning top for you then. You’re cute, by the way,” he winked, causing your cheeks to only redden more.

Somehow, someway, the team had managed to survive. A lot of teams seemed to struggle with Spinning Top but you had got it the first try – Thanos almost blowing out your eardrums with the loud cheer of celebration when you did. Now, back in the main room, you were sat with the team. If it was up to you, you would have gone to sit by yourself but Thanos had insisted you sit with them. It seemed like he wanted to keep you around. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some friends, right? You sat beside Thanos, a space between you. While he was in a world of his own, DJing some invisible show in his head by the looks of his hand motions, the rest of the team were arguing. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them.

Watching everyone talk with each other so easily – even if it was arguing – made you feel slightly jealous that you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to because you did but the mere thought of striking up a conversation with anyone brought you too much anxiety. It was just better to keep to yourself. If you had to be the weird, quiet girl then so be it.

“They’re idiots,” the deep voice beside you said. Turning to look, you’d noticed Thanos had closed the distance between you both, his shoulder touching yours now. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you smiled, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me team with you.”

“No problem, Senorita. Told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” His toothy grin made your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. That was the last thing you needed.

“Y-yeah,” you laughed, tearing your eyes away from him yet again.

This time, his finger gently reached out, tilting your chin to look at him. His eyes pierced yours, a look of intrigue on his face. “You have pretty eyes. It’s a shame you think the floor deserves to see them more than me.” He leaned in a little closer, his hot breath fanning against your face. Being close to someone wasn’t new for you. It was something that didn’t happen often but you’d had your fair share of encounters with people. “Meant it when I said you were cute, babygirl. Stick with me through these games and when we survive, let me take you out for a drink. Maybe I can get more than a few words at a time out of you.”

Once again, he winked at you, removing his finger from your chin and turning his attention to the argument going on in front of him. Meanwhile you were in a daze, your heart beating against your chest so much you were sure it was about to beat out of your ribcage. Yeah, this man was definitely going to be trouble.

taglist: @angelofbooksworld @ldydeath @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @djarindroid @justsisse @sassyyoyo @lillyysgirlblog @mysatnin @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind

[mostly-imagines]

There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka the professional boyfriend

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)

Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.

And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.

You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.

He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”

You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?” 

He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.

You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”

His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”

You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”

You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”

“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.” 

Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.

You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.

“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.

You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.

“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look. 

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.

“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.

He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”

“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”

You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.

“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.” 

“Dick.”

“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”

You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”

He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.  

It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.   

He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too. 

“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while. 

You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”

“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.

You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.” 

He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”

You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips. 

He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?” 

You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”

“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.

You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.

“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.  

“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”

It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.

Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.

He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…” 

He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.

He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.

🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job

[xazse]

I don’t know about the anon but I freaked out when I saw the new fic. It was so good 🤤. I love how you’re giving us so much content nowadays and I’m here for it! Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could figure something out for snow leopard Gojo and cat hybrid reader (him as a cat jest feels right) ? Imagine Satoru having this in mind ever since he saw you, I mean, big cats mate practically for the solo reason of breeding ?and he's no different- having many pups is a necessity to prove you're his and the best way to show how much he adores you! He’d be very protective about you while you’re carrying, never stepping away from your side and he’s become so needy too because you smell so divine with all those hormones to him.

It makes me think back to that kitty tiger fic where he would lick her and I see this as a continuation of short!

Well, not really since I mentioned a leopard but honestly if you did a tiger and really wrote it as a continuation l'd be thrilled. Do you think you’ll write more because I’d love some Satoru tiger/leopard fics. Have a nice day lovely 💕

Notes: SORRY ITS SO SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I HAD FUN WRITING IT!!

Warnings: Pantysniffing + breeding + hybrids + little hybrids + pregnancy + overprotective!Satoru

Pairings: SnowLeopardSatoru + KittyHybrid!Reader

Oh yes of course SnowLeopard!Satoru was in love the day Suguru brought you home, you smelled of that icky place but eventually when you got comfortable he began cleaning you of that filthy, licking you everywhere to ensure you smelled exactly like him.

After scenting you to smell just like the touching started, it starts small with Satoru laying you in his lap or letting you stroke his hair until it got even more physical he was having you bent over balls deep inside of you, this became a daily occurrence where he’d pump you full load after load.

The leopard loved you so much, of course when you started showing signs of morning sickness he was so damn excited, well when he had said that you gave him the nastiest look ever but he had to phrase it as he was excited for the baby!

The first few months were absolute hell for you, Satoru could not and would not leave you alone, he insisted mining everything and anything with you.

You needed a shower? He’s in there helping you get in places your cute little belly prevents even in public he’s always making sure your near him, he keeps a tight grip on your arm so he doesn’t lose you.

He also keeps close because you smell, so fucking good, it drives him damn insane, he keeps you in his lap for hours just sniffing your neck or even having your legs wrapped around his head so he can smell your cunt.

He loves getting into your dirty laundry and smelling your panties, who cares if you catch him jerking off with it around his fat cock, he’ll look you dead in your face as you slowly close the door to let him have that privacy, he can’t fuck your pussy like he used to anymore so this’ll do.

When the babies come it’s so hectic around the house, you and Satoru are constantly chasing the little ones around, they don’t give either of you a break some days. It’s so cute to see how they look exactly like Satoru in some ways, two of them have his hair and the third one looks exactly like you, a carbon copy is what she is.

Their little ears and tail swish behind them so freaking cute, the amount of photos Satoru has in his phone is astonishing, he also posts them on his instagram always, everytime, Suguru also does his hair share with helping with them when you and Satoru are stressed. He’s like their uncle and it’s so adorable to see them braiding his hair or him reading to them.

When you finally get alone time, Satoru’s fucking you like he wants to put even more babies in you, the way he’s groaning is so damn loud it pairs with the way you sound when both of you meet in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking back on him just as hard, it’s already been multiple orgasms and you’re both still going at it.