#despite barely knowing where the difference is even

[ditzydoe444]

think i need someone older ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

age gap and size difference! jason x innocent! reader

jason todd smut

you were the sweetheart of the town, the innocent girl who pranced around offering baked goods to your neighbours and offering to help out. you were the one hosting the town’s small events, like markets, charities and even festival. everyone loved you for your kind heart and pure intentions.

you were currently tending your garden patch, where you saw your neighbour jason working on his car. it wasn’t unusual, during the summer months like right now, it has been pretty common to see your neighbour working on his car… shirtless. despite how prim and proper you were, you couldn’t help but to stare, it was a meaningless action, just appreciating the view that’s all..

but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it, you purposely slowed down your gardening to have more time to gawk at him. “sweet heart, why don’t you go and give him some of your cookies? he rarely interacts with anyone, maybe it’ll be good thing.” your dad spoke up as he hosed the garden down. eagerly you nodded, quickly wiping the dirt that stained your knees and hands.

you pranced to his driveway in your tiny white dress offering him some cookies before insisting you could help him whilst he worked on his car. however when he went for a break, you unaware and inexperienced pounced on his lap. quickly though you got embarrassed, what were you thinking? but he didn’t pull away, pulling you closer and his grip tight around your waist. you felt something inbetween his legs, and you moved against it. the feeling was too good, and so new, it wasn’t long before you created a damp spot in between his jeans, bouncing on his clothed cock.

though one thing led to another and jason was currently balls deep in you. “didn’t think a pretty thing like you would be into me, hm?” he cooed softly, in your ear. currently you were bouncing on his fat cock, on his old rugged couch. you were shy, covering your bare body at first but he kissed you roughly, holding your hands back at first so there was no possible way you could hide from him. he allowed you to take your time, being so patient and giving you a small kiss on your cheek for each inch you took, before his fat cock was shoved in you.

“doin’ so well for me,” he praised, he was gentle with you, after knowing it was your first time. “aren’t you the sweetest thing ever, hm?” he mumbled softly as one of his hand softly caressed your cheek. you whined as you bounced, the bulge of him was obvious through your stomach, and your tight cunt was squeezing him so, so hard. his other hand held your waist tightly, being the gentleman jason was, obviously he wasn’t going to let you do all the work, bouncing and thrusting you up easily with his hips.

the hand that was on your waist dropped down your hips, squeezing the soft flesh there before rubbing your clit harshly. “i think this is the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen,” he groaned, you were so, so tight. “neighbour sweetheart bouncing and taking my cock so well,” the words only motivated you further. your knees were weak and stamina was running low for you, but hearing his praises and occasional grunts made the whole thing bearable. both of his hands went to your hips, gripping it tightly, before thrusting up harder than before. the sudden movement made you squeal and whine, your hands immediately gripping his broad muscular shoulders, letting him take you.

a new sensation was now bubbling up in your stomach, something you never felt before. “j-jay, something feels weird,” you whined, clinging onto him as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper. “it’s nothing to worry about sweet thing, just let it go yeah?”

though you shook your head, the feeling was too new, and too much. “c-can’t” you whined, but your resolve was crumbling quickly, his large hands squeezing at where he was buried deep in you. “you can, and you will,” jason grunted, his movements not faltering one bit. “just hold onto me ok?”

you nodded, clinging onto him tighter, before you even knew it, you came all over his fat cock. “there we go, wasn’t that hard was it now?” he grinned, wiping some of the hair that was stuck to your forehead. you pant, your head placed on his shoulders though his movements didn’t stop. “think you can give me one more?” you didn’t know, but the feeling was too good, and god you wanted way more.

it wasn’t long before you squirted, painting it all over his cock. “pretty little thing, all this for me,” he groaned before he filled you up. a white ring finally formed at the base of his cock, “never thought i would be filling up the prim and proper neighbourhood sweetheart?” he groaned. jason and flipped the two of you over, cuddling on top of the rugged couch before you went for the second round.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

[darlinluxx]

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : you and your girlfriend decide to take a late night walk in the summertime

a/n : missing summer :( also in this she won the games cause why not

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he city hummed with a low, thrumming energy, even at the late hour. the air, thick and heavy with summer’s humid breath, wrapped around Saebyeok and you like a warm blanket. streetlights cast pools of amber light, painting long, distorted shadows that danced with your footsteps.

Saebyeok, usually so cold and stoic, felt a strange sense of relaxation seep into her bones. the familiar tension in her shoulders eased a fraction, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence by her side. she glanced over at you, her heart doing a small, unexpected flip.

You, with your soft, expressive features and a cascade of hair that framed your face, was the antithesis of everything Saebyeok was. where Saebyeok was sharp edges and guarded glances, you were gentle curves and an open heart. you wore a flowing, floral dress that seemed to catch every stray breeze, making you look like you’d stepped out of a summer painting. the contrast, Saebyeok mused, was both jarring and utterly perfect.

You linked your arm with Saebyeok’s, your touch light and reassuring. “it’s so nice out, isn’t it?” your voice was soft, like the rustling of leaves.

“yeah.” Saebyeok said quietly, her voice low. but a small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. she wouldn’t admit it, but she was happy. back in the bleakness of the games, any notion of peace or beauty had been a distant dream. now, here she was, walking hand in arm with someone she genuinely cared about, under a starlight sky. the absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on her, but this time, the absurdity felt good.

you two walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle slap of your shoes against the pavement and the distant rumble of a car. Saebyeok watched you as you occasionally plucked a stray leaf from a low-hanging branch, your fingers delicate and graceful. she thought about how you had been a lifeline, pulling her out of the darkness that had threatened to consume her. you’d seen the vulnerability beneath Saebyeok’s tough exterior, the pain she tried so hard to hide, and had held on, refusing to let go.

“are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head. your eyes were full of concern

Saebyeok looked away, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. “yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

you chuckled. “i just thought you liked a little pensive.” you stopped walking to face Saebyeok, your gaze unwavering. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know? i know things are still hard.”

Saebyeok’s jaw tightened. she hated that you knew her so well, hated that you could see right through her carefully constructed walls. but she also appreciated it, deep down, with a firefly possessive protectiveness.

“it’s different,” Saebyeok admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “being like this. normal.” the word felt foreign on her tongue.

you reached out and took Saebyeok’s hand, your fingers intertwining with hers. your touch was a silent promise - a promise of understanding, of acceptance, of love. “normal is beautiful, Sae. and you deserve all the beauty in the world.”

Saebyeok couldn’t quite meet your gaze, her heart feeling like it might burst from her chest. she was used to violence, to betrayal, to having to be strong. but this, this soft vulnerability, this quiet intimacy, was both terrifying and undeniably intoxicating.

the two of you continued walking, the silence no longer heavy but filled with unspoken words and shared emotions. you passed by a brightly lit corner store, and you squeezed Saebyeok’s hand. “let’s get ice cream,” you said, your eyes sparkling with mischievous delight.

Saebyeok, despite herself, found a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. it wasn’t the forced, predatory smile she had worn in the games. it was a real smile, a genuine expression of joy.

she nodded, letting you lead her towards the store, the humid air suddenly feeling lighter, the city’s hum suddenly softer, and a sense of something akin to peace settling deep within her soul. the world outside could be cruel and unforgiving, but here, in the gentle warmth of your love, Saebyeok found a refuge, a haven where she could finally just be. and in that quiet summer night, walking hand in hand with you, she finally understood that maybe, just maybe, she could truly be free.

[starzradio]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

when your husband’s secretary acts just a little too friendly around him.

FEATURING: office worker! nanami kento x wife! reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, mdni. semi-public sex, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, fingering, use of pet names (sweetheart & my love)

WORD COUNT: 1k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: so ik nanami might b too professional for this but 🤫🤫

"you need an appointment to see mr. nanami."

the receptionist spoke in a bored tone, barely looking up from her computer to give you a once-over. all the while she rolled her eyes and obnoxiously smacked her gum, like you were the one wasting her time.

but before you even had the chance to answer, the office door creaked open. "and i thought i mentioned that she could come in without needing one," nanami spoke up, appearing beside her desk.

the receptionist straightened up and busied herself with 'stacking' a couple papers on her desk. fluttering her lashes when she did look up at him, leaning forward just the slightest bit. "sorry, sir. you've just been soo busy and you did mention you didn't want anyone to bother you."

you honestly couldn't blame her, though. not when your husband had walked out of his office without his suit jacket on—the sleeves of his blue button down pushed up and showing off his watch. and well, the most important thing, his wedding ring. which she was blatantly trying to disregard.

"i'm aware. but you should know that doesn't apply to my wife, she's welcome to enter whenever she pleases," you could practically see her jaw clench as soon as he called you his wife, "please don't have me repeat myself. again."

"yes, sir. it won't happen again."

what she'd promised last time.

you stepped foot into the office, ceiling to floor windows decorating the space behind his desk. your heels clacked against the pristine floors, walking over to one of the wooden chairs.

"i brought you some lunch. saw that you forgot your bento at home and i wasn't sure if you brought any money to buy lunch," you spoke up, giving him a soft smile as you offered him the bento.

"thank you," he took the bento from you, setting aside, "but i think i'd like to have something different for lunch," kento cleared the space in front of him, patting on the wooden desk. a silent invitation. the skirt you had on rose up when you took a seat. the perfect offering if you'd ask nanami.

calloused hands ran down your legs, gently spreading them open. taking his time despite the thirty minute time constraint. "i'm sorry about her, by the way," nanami spoke up in a whisper, his lips pressing against your calf. "i don't know how much more obvious i need to be about being happily married."

his lips were reverent as he kissed up your leg, one of his hands holding the other in place. "like i'd ever want anyone but you, my love," he murmured, more so to himself, gently nibbling on your inner thigh. where only he'd be able to see them after. your legs spread apart almost instinctively, giving nanami the perfect view of the lace panties he adored so much.

and as much as he loved seeing you in them, the sight of you without them was much better. kento hooked one finger around the waistband, slowly removing them. sliding them inch by inch down your legs. "you didn't think we should hurry up, mr. nanami?" you questioned teasingly, pushing his hair back to take a look at his face.

"and why would we do that, mrs. nanami? i want to enjoy our time here," he pulled the underwear off, letting it fall to the floor. "well, you know you're sooo busy," you drawled, twirling a hair strand in between your fingers. he let out a small scoff, gently nipping at your leg in retaliation.

"never busy enough for you, you know that," nanami's voice came out muffled, licking a stripe up your cunt. he swirled his tongue around your clit before moving down, running the tip of his tongue down your folds. "never?" you mused, looking down at nanami. he wasn't paying that much attention to you anymore—rather, just your pussy.

"never," he muttered offhandedly, pushing a finger inside of you. your heels dug into his shoulder blades, your back arched when kento curled his fingers to hit your g-spot. and while it'd hurt at first—it was a pain that nanami was more than welcome to receive if it meant getting to lose himself in you.

your nails—paid for by yours truly—tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your dripping cunt. kento clicked his tongue, looking up at you, "come on, use your words. tell me what you want and i'll give it to you."

"more, please," you responded almost immediately, your grip on his hair loosening up. just a bit. he replaced his tongue with two fingers, slowly getting past that initial resistance before pushing them in and out of you.

even with his glasses fogging up with every heavy breath that he took and your slick covering his mouth and chin, nanami continued to push his fingers inside of you. coaxing out all the pretty little noises you were making. "you can be a little louder, no? just a little bit, sweetheart," nanami curled his fingers, drawing out a whine from your lips.

you dripped onto his digits with each thrust, the golden wedding band on his finger glistening against the office lights. "k-ken, don't stop," your nails dug deeper into his hair, messing up the time he took fixing it this morning. you weren't even sure what was louder anymore—the squelching in between your legs or your moans.

your thighs clamped tightly around his head, holding him in place. "open them, darling. you can take it, you even asked me for more," kento felt the way your legs trembled—the way you were almost hesitant to open your legs again. you were close. "too much, too much," your moan had come out louder this time—loud enough to bleed through the walls.

not that it mattered.

you felt that familiar pressure build up in your lower tummy, your legs threatening to close again all the while your toes curled against the leather heels. too much, you'd said, and you still found yourself needing even more. "cum for me sweetheart, you can take it. take what's yours," his words served as a final push, your orgasm washing over you like a wave.

nanami pulled his dripping fingers out from your cunt and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping them off. effortlessly, he wiped away the spit and slick dribbling down his chin before carelessly tossing the handkerchief to the side. like it was nothing more than just a bother.

your chest heaved as you leaned back against the desk, watching your husband stand up from his spot. a wet patch adorned the front of his khaki pants, his cock practically twitching against the confines of his boxers. "i think i'll just skip ahead to the main course."

needless to say, you didn't have any more trouble coming into nanami's office after that <3

[scribbledghost]

Safe and Sound

Pairing: inhuman!polyvessels x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 1,290

Summary: You spend a quiet winter day curled up in bed with the four vessels.

Notes: We're getting a ton of snow where I am right now and I just really wanted something soft and cozy so I wrote it. Tons of fluff (gets slightly suggestive in the middle but doesn't go anywhere), many kisses, and probably lethal amounts of cheese. I regret nothing.

The world outside the manor is quiet, a thick blanket of snow covering everything in sight. The sun has long since risen, but life has yet to return to the landscape.

Meanwhile, inside the sprawling place you call home, warmth and a gentle silence permeate the atmosphere.

There are many fireplaces scattered around the structure, and the fact they always seem to be well-kept despite little effort on anyone's part makes you think it may be the house itself keeping the blazes stoked and roaring. Of course, it may also be through some as-yet-undiscussed power of one of your housemates, but you have yet to ask properly.

The four demi-humans you live with have different needs than you do, but they have taken great care to ensure yours are always met. You aren't even sure if they can feel heat or cold, and yet your home is always the perfect temperature for you. Today is no different.

Of course, having all five of you curled up together in one massive bed certainly helps keep you warm.

It's not at all unusual for multiple people to end up in one bed. All of you have a habit of stumbling out of your rooms and towards another when the night becomes too dark and quiet. In fact, it's more common for at least two or three people to be in one bed than it is for all of you to sleep separately.

The perks of having four partners all connected by varying degrees of telepathic communication, you suppose.

"Are you comfortable, my heart?"

Vessel's dulcet tone cuts through the quiet, barely intelligible over III's snoring and the crackling of the fireplace across the room.

You turn your head slightly to nudge your nose against his, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Yes I am. Are you?"

Vessel only hums softly in response, his six eyes softening as he meets your gaze.

The rest of the vessels are still asleep around you. II is at your side opposite of Vessel, one arm slung over your middle while his face is buried in your neck, his even breaths fanning across your skin. IV is curled into Vessel's back, quiet grumbles emanating from him as he shifts. III, meanwhile, is sprawled across all of you, his head on your chest and his limbs stretched.

"All of my boys here in the same place, warm and safe," you muse. "I always feel better when we're all together."

Vessel hums softly again, one of his hands coming to rest atop III's to absentmindedly play with his hair.

"I understand," he says. "There is a certain sense of security knowing your loved ones are all present."

Suddenly, a particularly loud snort from III breaks the tranquility, and he jolts awake.

"You okay?" you ask. III shifts, turning his head to give you a lopsided, tired grin.

"Hiya, love," he says, voice thick with sleep. Your head tilts up, III's nose nudging it upward so he can nibble at the skin just below your chin. His extended canine teeth sting just slightly, but none of his movements are firm enough to draw blood.

You know this move. And you know where it leads.

"Mm, easy, love. Too tired for that," you say gently.

However, being firm is difficult when Vessel is also alternating between kissing your temple and nipping at your earlobe.

"Don't have to do anything, beloved," Vessel all but croons. "Just lie back and let the four of us do the work."

"I think II and IV might have a problem with that, seeing as they're still asleep," you murmur.

"They'll live," III says, his tongue now laving against your throat.

"I'm serious, quit it!" you whisper loudly with a laugh. "I'm comfortable!"

The pair cease their assault, a soft chuckle emanating from them both. Quick kisses are places on your cheek and lips, with III nuzzling his head against your chest once again. You're sure it's only a matter of time before he's asleep once more.

"You three are too loud."

This time, it's II's low voice rumbling against you. You know the faux-grumpiness is purely in jest, but you indulge him anyway.

"I'm sorry, my dear," you say, tilting your head to rest your cheek against him.

"Someone kiss me and I may consider forgiveness," he teases.

Your lips land on his first, but they're quickly followed by III's.

"Surely we've earned mercy now, hm?" you tease. "Two kisses for II?"

"Don't push it."

You and III both laugh softly as II squeezes you tighter, readjusting himself as he buries his face in your neck.

You turn to see Vessel looking at the three of you, pure softness and affection in his eyes. The sight of IV's arm slung across Vessel's waist draws your attention.

"I'm surprised he hasn't woken up yet," you muse.

Vessel gives you a look that you can't read before he reaches for IV's hand, gently bringing the latter man's knuckles to his lips.

However, it appears IV was not as asleep as you had thought. Before Vessel can react, IV uses the hand at Vessel's lips to grab him by the jaw and turn his head. One more quick shift, and IV has him in an almost bruising kiss.

It leads nowhere, and is more an admonishment for waking IV than anything else, but you still watch as IV leaves Vessel with a slightly dazed look when he pulls away.

Despite being rough with Vessel, IV is nothing but gentle with you, reaching for your hand to bring it to his lips.

"Sleep well, dove?" he asks, his voice deep with disuse.

"Sure did, thanks for askin'," III replies, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"Wasn't talkin' to you," IV deadpans, reaching over to tug at one of III's ears.

"Should've - ow! - should've been more specific then," III teases.

After a bit more lighthearted bickering between the vessels, the atmosphere returns to a soft silence. However, all attention shifts to you when you shiver slightly.

"Are you cold, my heart?" Vessel asks.

"Just a little," you admit. You're not quite sure how the chill has managed to find you beneath the furs that adorn the massive bed and the warmth of the vessels around you (or, in III's case, sprawled atop you), but it has.

III makes a move to get up and stoke the fire, but Vessel stops him with a gentle hand.

It's not terribly often that you witness Vessel communing with the manor itself - the action tends to drain him - but it's always a marvel when you do.

A soft blue glow encompasses his eyes as his arm reaches towards the fireplace. A low hum sounds in your mind, like distantly muffled words. You wonder if the others hear something more distinct.

You can tell Vessel is straining, a slight tremble visible in his hand. Thankfully, the connection isn't terribly drawn-out, and with a whooshing sound, the fireplace roars brighter.

Vessel's eyes return to normal, and his arm and body sag back onto the mattress.

"Didn't have to do that," III mutters. "I would've gotten up."

"I know," Vessel reassures him, giving him a soft smile.

You don't need a telepathic mental connection to tell that Vessel is ready for rest once again. Reaching for him, you manage to rearrange him so his head is tucked against your shoulder.

"Rest," you command softly. He doesn't argue, and neither do the others. II curls back into your side, III is already softly snoring against your chest, and IV's breaths even out as he holds your hand.

You drift back to dreams nestled amongst the vessels, the harsh world outside the manor unable to disturb the peace found within.

[fadelbison]

Of Boats and Drama; The Turning Tides on Kant and Bison's Compatibility

obsessed with how when its during their make believe phase, when fadel says "I think I love you" to Style, Style doesn't say it back and instead just kisses him at the end of ep. 6 and during the kantbison parallel at the start of ep7 when Bison says "I love you" to Kant, Kant says "I love you" back but clearly there's baggage even if he's not lying outright.

But after the brothers kidnap their respective lovers its Style that fronts with the I love you that perplexes Fadel

and its bison that wants to hear it

but Kant jumps into the ocean instead (like you can see the beach front okay Bison is clearly devoid of killing intent here) instead of lying to him or say the same things he's been saying to dupe him.

I really think this is where the Kant and Bison compatibility is finally starting to show. Bison clearly loves his little fantasies and make belief of romance (just like style dear fucking god). I've joked before about how bison has given to his brother the lover he had envisioned for himself - the one who will plead his love, cajole and give in.

But that guy is wrong for him.

We've seen that slightly off dynamic between Kant and Bison for 6 whole episodes. And it's killed me that people kept trying to interpret them with the same rose tinted glasses that we do for Fadel and Style. Because the FadelStyle and KantBison relationship parallels aren't meant to highlight the similarities between the couples but rather the differences, that's where the information about these characters come from.

The audience knows something that Kant doesn't in the boat scene; which is that he has this in the bag already. I think this is the infamous island Bison inherited from his dad and he's brought him here to literally just talk. I know I mentioned this already but bison literally looks like he just untied the boat from shore and let it drift on its own while waiting for Kant to wake up.

Like that has got to be the minimum legal distance that a boat needs to be from shore to be considered unmoored lol. This is 'I am using your vulnerabilities against you because love is pain' shore distance not 'dead body dumping' shore distance. The body will wash up on shore before the boat even makes it back.

But for Bison, Fadel's reasonable precautions while we talk approach was not enough. He needed the ropes, the guns, the added ocean trauma because the guns didn't feel enough to instill fear, the pretty necklace he put on just so he could rip it off his throat, everything is already high drama high fantasy for him. Bison set the stage for desperate begging and tearful confessions, things he already got at the hospital btw but that wasn't enough either.

Because.

Bison doesn't need to be sold on fantasies. He had that and it sucked for everyone involved, what he needs when he's totally out of control like this is this guy:

[screenshots of Kant telling bison he wants to talk on land and he's scared of the ocean]

For six whole episodes I saw Kant be wrong for Bison and not be able to pinpoint exactly why people cawing over how cute KantBison are bothered me so much. Until, of course, Kant finally does something right and all of a sudden it just all clicks together. Bison is boisterous, headstrong and because of his unique skillset also irresponsibly dangerous. The BDSM scene also shows that despite his best intentions, Bison can and will abuse power if given to him irresponsibly.

He doesn't need the Kant that plays along with everything he does. He needs the Kant that Kant is to everyone but him. The person that Kant is when they're together is barely even Kant. He needs the calm, level headed but fiercely devoted older brother, he needs the guy that helps a hookup out because that's his duty as a human being, he needs the guy that stole cars to keep his family fed. And I'll be really honest, that's the guy that Bison loves anyway, the one he hears about from Babe and Style and James.

What Bison needs is the quiet devotion of Kant choosing his own personal hell over playing this game and furthering any deception between them even though technically it wouldn't even be a lie (Bison is literally poised to believe him); the dogged resolve that once he's decided to do this on his own terms, it happens on his own terms.

[ladyeyrewrites]

💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭 MORE PLEASE I LOVE THIS SERIES

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Thanks so much anon! I've been blown away with the response to what I've posted so far. I'll probably start posting this on Ao3 later this week once I've got a bit more backlog built up. Have a little Tommy POV:

Tommy holds it together until Evan is calm enough to listen to the doctor explain next steps. He keeps himself in check, his weakness at bay, even though all he wants to do is breakdown and scream.

He tires to smile encouragingly as an orderly wheels Evan away to take him for a brain scan, but it’s strained. As the door closes behind Evan, Tommy slumps into the chair next to Evan’s bed and buries his head in his hands. He waits for tears to come.

They don’t, despite the fact he can feel them pressing against his eyelids, they refuse to fall.

“He’ll be okay.” Maddie places a hand on his shoulder and Tommy shudders, instinctively shying away from comfort before he forces himself to be still and accept it.

“What if he never remembers?” Tommy asks. “What if he decides he’d rather live a different life?” A different life than the one they’ve built together. A life without Tommy. And as devastating as this is, there’s a part of Tommy that’s not even all that shocked.

Four three years, he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And here it is, Tommy flattened underneath its rubber sole.

That little voice that he thought had quieted down is back, the one that lurks in the back of his mind, whispering that he doesn’t deserve to be happy, that his relationship with Evan is a fluke, a cosmic mistake, that he was never meant to be the forever guy after all. Evan’s forever is still out there somewhere waiting for him. If Evan wants a divorce, Tommy won’t protest.

If?

Who’s Tommy kidding? Of course, Evan will want a divorce. As far as Evan knows, he’s twenty-five-years old and straight. He’s still in his Buck 1.0 days. Or is he an even earlier version because he’s not even Buck yet?

This Evan, this proto-Buck, has never been in a serious relationship, has never held a long-term lease, barely has a credit history because of all the under-the-table work and crashing at friends houses he’s done. Tommy really would be this Evan’s first.

“Breath, Tommy,” Maddie says and for the first time, Tommy realises his breathing is fast and ragged. He’s hyperventilating. Head spinning.

Spinning. Vision dark.

He squeezes his eyes tight and tries to breathe along with Maddie’s counts: in-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. Over and over until warmth returns to his face. He opens his eyes and gives Maddie a weak smile. “I’m good,” he says.

“You’re really not,” she replies. “Neither am I.”

“Ten years,” he says. “Ten fucking years.” He shouldn’t be angry. It’s not Evan’s fault this happened. As far as Tommy’s been told, there wasn’t time to issue an evacuation order before the roof collapsed on top of Evan. Tommy knows he should be relieved that Evan made it out alive. That the fire was nearly out by the time the roof collapsed. That Evan escaped with no burns or broken bones, only bruises and a gaping hole where their life together should be.

[nottivagos]

Hello! Welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook, where I write some filth to make your Monday a little better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Model Photographer!Carlos Sainz that can’t help but do a dirty photoshoot for his own dirty pleasures.

Imagine he’s been your personal— or at least go-to— photographer since you joined your modelling agency all those years ago. He was kind, maybe a little too kind, from your first ever interaction with him and he welcomingly taught you everything you needed to know. And ever since then you’d formed a close bond with him.

From the first ever shoot he had with you he was fixated on your body. The way different designer outfits and lavish accessories just clung to your figure in amazing, even eye-opening ways, made his mouth water. Tight fabrics clinging to your soft curves ever so snugly in all the right ways, he had a right to be swoon. Your body had become so obsessive and addictive to him that he had to start taking his personal work camera home just so he could jerk off the growing stiffness that tortured him all day whenever he had a photo session with you!

But today? Well, Carlos wanted to try something different. ‘A bit of excitement’, was the way he sold it to you. A naked photoshoot? But, wouldn’t that make you a pornstar? You definitely weren’t a pornstar, maybe Carlos had the wrong person! At first, yes you were sceptical, but the calming thickness of his accent and smoothness of his reassurances put your uneased mind at rest. After all, Carlos did have more experience than you. Of course he knew what he was doing!

”Just a few photos, nena,” the Spaniard mumbled in that beautiful accent as he looked at your unsure face. ”I only want to spice things up a little. Give you some more.. creative freedom, hm? When have I ever failed you in ideas?” He wasn’t wrong. Carlos’s ideas usually got you the front page in many magazines.

So you reluctantly complied. You felt safe in his hands, and honestly, you even thought it may be nice to show off some skin for once in a while. You hardly ever did it with your ‘normal gigs’, so this fun one might be the chance of something new. Despite his job description, Carlos had even gone out of his way to choose and pick out some cleavage for you! You couldn’t let him down after he went through all of that stress for you.

You quickly slid into the lacy bra and silky thong, which exquisitely complimented your slim frame perfectly, highlighting all the right areas of your bare body, giddy and full of anticipation for this exciting session with Carlos.

Carlos’s breathing hitched the moment you walked back onto set after changing into your clothes. The way your hips gracefully swayed slightly, ass jiggling with each step, black lace thigh-high tights covering your smooth, shaved legs— Carlos couldn’t help but feel a growing imprint in his pants, rubbing uncomfortably as his length kept contained in his tightening boxers. ”Where do you want me first, Carlos?” you asked with your new-found confidence, standing proudly in your revealing lingerie, biting your bottom lip ever so slightly as you ogled at the saucy set design as if it was straight out of a porno.

Trying to keep composed, Carlos cleared his throat, adjusting himself as his clothes became stifling, his body burning with desire.

”Let’s try the... desk first, cariño.” The Spaniard suggested in a croaky voice, dangerously low enough for you to hear, moving his camera to be placed directly in front of the miniature office-like set. ”Here looks good,” he motioned you over with a finger.

Gliding across to where Carlos had set up base, his eyes lingered and hawked over your form for a little too long than he should have, noticing how your nipples had hardened as a gush of cold air hit your body from the air conditioning unit above. God, he yearned to just take you there, groping and pulling at your breasts until they were hardened and sore peaks, the sweet moans escaping your plump lips as he brushed his calloused fingers over your sensitive skin.

”Ass up.” he commanded darkly, his voice thicker and more tar-like now. A smirk formed on his sly lips as you followed his every word, treating them as the modelling gospel. ”Good girl, that’s perfect,” he purred out a praise.

A cheeky giggle escaped your lips as your boobs dangled onto the polished wood, elbows perking up your torso so you had a well-kept posture. Your rear lifted gracefully into the air as your back arched ever so perfectly, the angle allowing some stray, long locks of your hair to trail down your bare back.

”Is this okay?” You asked with a slight nervousness in your tone, tilting your head to look at Carlos for a moment. He looked composed at your brief glance, nodding sharply, but when your head turned back to look at the wall, he was teetering on the brink of losing control, the desire of pounding his throbbing cock into your slick, tight pussy driving him crazy. 

Surely a few shots wouldn’t hurt, right?

HELLO! Thanks for reading this if you do, I really appreciate it:) If you have any dirty ideas feel free to message me in my inbox, I'd love to hear your filth! - notti<3

[skvaderarts]

After several delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one of Various Storms and Saints is done!

AKA the "Jayce accidentally ends up in a good timeline where he and Viktor are together" fic I said I would write.

Summary: Word count 4.7k

After meeting Wizard Viktor and the bad timeline, Jayce takes up the grim task of heading back to his own timeline and setting things right the only way he knows how. But along the way, something goes awry and he ends up in an alternate version of Piltover and Zaun where things appear to have gone very differently, especially between him and Viktor. But after experiencing firsthand the life that could have been between him and Viktor, will he be able to go back and fulfill his promise? After knowing the love that could still be there can he bring himself to destroy it forever?

(If there is smut later, it will be in stand-alone skippable chapters in case that's not your thing. Tags will be periodically updated to reflect the plot.)

A03 Link

Chapter 1: St. Jude

Notes: Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy it!

—

“St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes.

St Jude, we were lost before she started.

St Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around us.

St Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos.”

—

In truth, he’d started to think he’d go mad down there.

The top of the Hexgate loomed over the wasteland that had once been Piltover and Zaun like a lighthouse in a storm, as tantalizing as food to the starving; like a distant thunderstorm in the scorching heat. He had simply known that he needed to scale it. To stand at its zenith and behold the ruined world below him. 

A world ruined by Hextech. By his dream. The culmination of their dream.

The culmination of his obsession and love for magic and his desire to better the world with it. The end of their shared brilliance and friendship. The fallible flame of Prometheus passed to him by the man cloaked in frozen, biting winds that had burned him nonetheless.

He’d been as compelled to climb up there as he had been to escape that forsaken cave. That pit where every ounce of despair held deep within him had manifested. That interminable oubliette composed entirely from his nightmares and the hell of his physical reality. As inescapable as the truth.

He’d crawled from the lowest pits of the Undercity to the very tallest structure to ever stand in the clouds of Piltover, a metaphorical journey that he wasn’t the first to make. But it had given him a sense of understanding he’d only once thought he possessed and a clarity only bitter suffering could provide. 

They’d both been through so much. And it had created this.

How fitting that it should mark the spot of their shared grave. The Hexgate. A monument to what they could achieve together standing as the last bastion in a dead world. The only life left within it sequestered atop its one gleaming crest. Everything else scurried below, barely alive anymore. Mutated beyond recognition. Nothing untouched by the corruption of the Arcane. 

They were both still living in a way, but equality dead all the same. One motionless in solitude, the other rooted to the spot, physically able to leave but unwilling to, trapped in their perpetual state of mourning A terminus of boundless misery, both forever alone despite being so close that the flowers that adorned one had started to spread across the clothing worn by the other as they remained by their side.

How did it come to this? It was unfathomable.

But as he stood there and took in the words that this version of Viktor had told him, he knew it to be the truth. He could not run from it even if he’d had the will to. He’d delivered the weight of Atlas to his shoulders so gently, so knowingly, and yet with such haunting regret. With such a look of profound knowing in his time-worn eyes.

He’d always known Viktor. He just hadn’t known it until that moment. From the first spark of magic to the birth of Hextech. The man who had saved the lives of his mother and himself. He’d once told Viktor he knew that he had no idea how beautiful magic was when he’d been the very one to bestow it upon him. Oh, how little they’d both know at the time. How small the universe had been despite how open they were to all it had to offer.

“We lost ourselves. Lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.”

Viktor’s words that day scraped across his frontal lobe like a razor's edge. He was right. He’d been right all along, in fact. He’d said then that the Hexcore needed to be destroyed. Once upon a time, so had their mentor. It was clearer now than ever that for the sake of everyone and everything there was only one course of action to take. One path to walk that only he could tread.

But how could he bear that weight? How could he pick up that hammer? Knowing what he was destined to do with it. When the time came would his conviction alone be enough to make him go through with it? He had never been more sure and uncertain about anything. Sure in the steadfast nature of his promise and uncertain as to whether or not that would be enough. If his will alone would be enough.

Even knowing this he took a breath and looked the man who had saved him as a child in the eye. Perhaps not even a man now. More of a divine being of such terrible power that he knew not what to call him. Not what to make of him. But regardless, as he kneeled there, his resolve strengthened even as pained reality set in. This was the only way. In his heart, he knew it to be the only truth available to him.

“Send me back.”

A hand once obscured by the fabric of the older mage’s robe lowered itself to the skeletal structure that kneeled before it, barely grazing the surface that was as much petal and moss now as it was metal, the cosmos eternally entangled with it. The silence from it was absolute all but for the brief movement of its vacant eyes. His own looking back at him for a place beyond his comprehension. What remained of himself uncurled its fingers, some of them breaking apart at the tips and remaining on the handle. There was no blood. It had been subsumed long ago. But the handle was as much a part of it as the warped base of the hammer it clutched was the structure they stood upon. A limb more than a weapon.

Jayce was as entranced as he was utterly disquieted, the fleeting thought of what it must be like to be this version of himself fluttering through his subconscious for all but a moment before he leaned forward and gripped the handle. Resolute, he met the eyes of this version of Viktor one last time before readying himself.

For all their sakes, he could never find out.

“I won’t fail.”

He felt the band he'd worn upon his wrist for what felt like a lifetime change, disappearing in a flash of light. The rune that had started all of this embedded itself into his very flesh and marked it with the permeance of a brand. A vow. Prof of the unshakable commitment he now carried by his own volition. 

He'd escaped the very depths of hell crawling on a broken leg, and yet he knew with unyielding certainty that this would be the hardest thing that he would ever do.

He had to stop Viktor. And every aching fiber of his broken being knew what that meant. 

And he hated it. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. So much that it frightened him.

It seethed within him like rolling magma from the depths of Tartarus, ready to erupt and disfigure the bedrock itself. To tear the earth asunder beneath him. Not a hate towards him but a hate for him. On his behalf. For everything that he meant and had become. Because of them both. Because of him. For everything he meant and had always meant to Jayce and the brilliance that would be snuffed out when he watched the light leave his eyes. For everything that he'd done to him even though he'd never meant to hurt him. Every wound he'd inflicted had been out of nothing but love. And that was why it was so corrosive; so volatile. 

The worst thing a person could do to someone was love them the way he loved Viktor. 

And yet, even knowing that, even as that truth gripped him, some part of him that he despised knew he'd still do it again because he couldn't do nothing when the life of someone he cared about was at stake. That was his foil. The chink in his armor. He saw that now. If only he’d seen it before it had led him down this path. The path, it seemed, that he was always destined to follow.

He would be saved as a child. He would meet Viktor. And they would destroy the world together.

The depths of such betrayal. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd betrayed someone he loved, but it would be the first time he did it on purpose. With the explicit purpose of harming them. That just wasn’t who he was. It went against every atom of his being; against his unfalteringly loyal spirit. 

He couldn't hate Viktor for what he’d become. He didn’t want to. But he could hate himself for what he’d done to him. What he was about to do to him. Later. 

“I swear it.”

The anomaly reappeared and engulfed them. A fleshy, almost tendon-like conglomeration of round inorganic shapes with little rhyme or reason to them. Visually little more than a mass of shifting rainbow hews and refracting circular portholes punctuated only by its webbed internal structure. Its surface structured and rigid despite its ever-rippling nature. It warped and sputtered, swelling and expanding before contracting and shrinking in pulses and variable waves. It seemed unstable to Jayce, but it was impossible to tell. The amalgamation was as unknowable to him as the depths of the ocean. He would not question how it worked. He knew its purpose. It would send him back.

And then he would set about his grim task.

Jayce shared one final parting glance with the older version of the man he’d once called his closest friend before he felt himself pulled backward, tumbling through the depths of the Arcane. It was a blinding and disorienting experience, channels of light to either side of him rippling through dark, cool hues punctuated by the occasional reds and golds as runic symbols blazed past him at light speed. What appeared to be the night sky loomed over him, stars sparkling in distant, vacant galaxies in the far-off cosmos he was sent along the path that had been purpose-carved explicitly for him. It was beautiful in a frightening way.

Gripping the handle of the Mercury Hammer tightly, he felt himself speed up, approaching velocities that he dared not consider. The implications of how hard his upcoming landing would be would start to eat away at his already raw nerves. He didn’t need that.

His head cascaded through memories and fractured visions, threatening to tear his mind apart. He presumed that he was nearly there. He would hold together for as long as it took. He would finish the job and then his mind could unravel. Perhaps that would spare him some of the inevitable guilt. Some merciful madness to provide him with a thoughtless reprieve.

But as he approached the end of the path, a thought occurred to him. The Arcane. He’d touched it back at the base of the Hexgate and it had felt strange. Alien. Unpleasant. But this was another facet of it. More focused and less untamed. It looked like he could reach out and touch it, skim over its surface just like a hand skimming through silent waters. He’d wanted to do as much during his childhood in the moment that he’d been whisked away to safety. Perhaps a bit of harmless indulgence amidst the madness of it all?

Cautiously, he reached out his hand, extending just his middle, ring, and index fingers. That would be all he needed to-.

He saw his body go one way as he went the other as if he had been snatched from it. It passed him as he lingered behind, time almost seeming to stand still as his mind failed to process the level of horror that he should be experiencing upon seeing something of that nature. And then he was yanked sideways, wrenched through the walls of the Arcane itself.

A fractal, almost psychedelic series of refracting reflections of his own body and mind encircling him and then spreading out in long waves, sending his body through a void of bright white light. He saw the back of himself, row after row repeating the same motions in a slightly delayed sequence as he closed his eyes, only to find that doing so did nothing to stop him from seeing. He felt his heart leap in his chest, his blood pounding as he tried to steady himself.

Curse his foolish curiosity. If he’d only kept his hands to himself…

Suddenly, he felt his body drop. Slamming downward as everything around him went completely white save for the infinite rows of rainbow light that encircled the black, bottomless cosmic hole that he now found himself plummeting into. He opened his mouth to cry out in fear but found that little more than a frightened yelp escaped his parted lips as he plunged into the depths. Jayce closed his eyes, unwilling to look. If this was to be his end then he didn’t want to see what would take him from existence.

Jayce felt his knees buckle and slam downward as his hands caught him and he came to a sudden, bone-crunching stop. He gritted his teeth from sheer instinct, waiting with dread for the inevitable pain that would make its unwelcome appearance in his left leg. But as he opened his eyes he was met with confusion as nothing happened, the only discomfort coming from his palms making contact with the ground beneath him, and even that was nominal at best. His knees tingled a bit, but hardly in a way that he’d consider painful. Slowly his eyes began to adjust.

Light flooded through the trees around him. The smell of crisp waterside air and the gentle flutter of the wings of birds as they soared from the treetops overhead, startled by his sudden stop. The feeling of a comfortingly cool breeze grasping at the fabric that he wore, ghosting over his skin with all the gentleness of a kiss. The sun shone overhead in a bright blue sky barely touched by the paltry smattering of clouds that dared try to impede the light from above, warm but not stifling as leaves blew past him on the paved path that he occupied. 

He was looking down at the pavement. There was pavement.

Startled, he scrambled backward onto his feet, instantly thrown off by how unburdened his movement was. He ran a hand over his visibly shocked face, shaking his head back and forth a few times as his palm made contact with the top of his head. There was no hair to brush out of his eyes. It was shorter. He had no beard. No stubble, even.

He looked down and, to his further confusion, he wore something completely different than what he’d just had on. Gone were the muddied and soiled whites and golds that he’d once worn and in their stead was a much more approachable set of clothing. He wore dark pants with a vest and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, the sleeves neatly rolled up to just over the elbow. The garments were complimenting shades of dark blue and that shade of Talis red that he was oh so accustomed to. Familiar but something he was almost certain he couldn’t remember ever wearing before. And yet, something he felt like he would’ve picked out in another lifetime. Certainly inoffensive to his personal tastes.

Taking a second to orient himself, he concluded that he was in a park or plaza of some sort. It had recently established trees. There were benches and what seemed to be a fountain of some sort a short distance away. Nothing noteworthy but it still felt that way.

The place was alive. So unlike what the place he’d just left had been like.

“Excuse me. Sir? You dropped these.”

Jayce turned in alarm towards the individual who had just approached him. An enforcer carrying what appeared to be a clipboard with several documents on it. There was a cover sheet covering the stack bearing a house single that looked reminiscent of his own, only with two hammers instead of the single one he was accustomed to. Everything else was the same from the style to the colors, aside from that notable difference. Odd.

The enforcer handed over the documents, stopping to adjust his uniform. It had probably shifted when he’d reached over to pick up the documents off of the ground.

“T-thank you.” It took Jayce a moment to speak, his mouth and mind not quite in alignment just yet. He wasn’t sure why that had been so hard. What about it had felt so foreign to him? Perhaps spending an extended period in a realm nearly devoid of conversation partners had made him accustomed to other people just existing around him? There hadn’t been anyone to talk to down in that hole except for himself and the vaguely amphibious creatures he’d been feasting on. It was a humbling thought, one that made him uneasy. “Sorry for the trouble.”

The enforcer nodded cooperatively, seemingly taking notice of how off-kilter Jayce seemed. There was just something a bit off about him. Oh, if the man only knew. And yet, he seemed familiar. Like Jayce had seen him before…

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. He looked like that sheriff who had died on the bridge during that attack a while back, only slightly younger. Less hardened. What had his name been? Something with an M. Ah, that was right. Marcus. The same man who’d brought him the documents he’d requested during his second day as a Counselor. The day that they’d gone to check on the Hexgates.

Wait.

Oh no. He’d gone off course. Surely. It should have been obvious at first glance and yet… Was he in the past? Was this another timeline? He needed to find out. Fast.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” It was so strange, speaking to a man he knew to be dead. Or who would die? He didn’t have the foggiest idea just yet, but still. He hadn’t known him but he still felt a small pang of sadness remembering the sight of him laying there when he’d visited the bridge that day with Mel. It almost made him feel queasy again.

“Of course. How can I help?”

“I… “ He flipped through the documentation on the clipboard, looking for something to go off of. A starting place for his investigations. And then he found it: a set of addresses. One was listed as a professional address, a tempting lead to be sure, but the other caught his eye. It was a home address. Apparently, his personal address since it was listed under his house name. But it was not the one he was familiar with. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

Marcus leaned over to read the address and then eyed him questioningly, seemingly wondering something but not saying it. “That’s just a few blocks short of a mile from here. Across the bridge in Central Zaun. Near The Last Drop. Go straight. You won’t miss it.”

The notion that the address was not in Piltover didn’t surprise him. He’d never seen a street by that name there. But Zaun? Was that what the Undercity was called in this universe? Had something disastrous happened in his personal life to cause him to have to move there? Maybe he hadn’t gone back in time, then. This might be more complicated than he’d first imagined. Fantastic.

He thanked Markus and bid him farewell. At least now he had a lead to work with. To Zaun, then. He’d been to the center of the Undercity before. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but he was certain that he could find his way down to the bottom again.

Making his way through town, Jayce couldn’t hope but notice that things felt different. Everything felt brighter; warmer and more optimistic. There were balloons on the street poles and banners over roads. Street service workers were in the process of replacing the standard lights with colored ones and an electric sense of optimism and excitement seemed to flow from everyone he passed. They were all looking forward to something, that much was clear.

And then he reached the bridge.

The structure that once served as a point of separation between the two cities gleamed under the bright sky, bustling with activity and purpose. Children played and vendors showcased different products and purchasable, perishable, or otherwise. People talked and laughed together from all walks of life. There were no blockades. Only traces of where they’d once been. Everything was clean and well-kept. People were enjoying themselves in an environment devoid of tension.

It all felt like a surreal fever dream. A beautiful one.

In truth, it stole his breath away.

He’d always hoped that Hextech could pave the way to a better tomorrow for them all, but to see the Undercity flourishing, even at just the surface level? This place was everything he’d ever hoped it could be. Everything that they’d championed for, especially Viktor. So tirelessly, even at the expense of his own well-being. To see the home that his partner had hailed from brimming with hope and beauty seized him in a way that he struggled to shake as he moved through the streets toward his destination. He wished he could show Viktor this version of his home. He wished he’d had the chance to grow up in this version of his home. No polluted water and acidic air, no downtrodden infrastructure or blackened skies heavy with soot and brimstone from the factories and mines. Just fresh air, daylight, and opportunity around every corner. What they’d all disserved from the very start. What they’d been deprived of by the simple virtue of being born on the wrong side of the bridge.

Genuine tangible irrefutable progress. He wanted this for his Piltover. For their Piltover.

He hurried along, checking the addresses as he passed by what was undeniably the center of town. Past The Last Drop and down its open, winding roads that had once been so narrow and stifling. Down to a quiet but still active zone filled with a mixture of residences and small shops. Colorful, bright, and full of greenery, something unfamiliar to him in this place save for the smog. He rounded a corner and then stopped, suddenly hit by the realization that something just felt off all of a sudden.

It started as simple blurred vision, Jayce shaking his head as he ducked further back away from the street. But then his head shuttered and his legs nearly buckled, his chest heaving as he used one hand to steady himself against the brick wall of one of the shops and the other to grip his throbbing head. He saw colors and shapes in flashes too fast and aggressively to make out clearly. And then he felt his stomach knot and churn before he found himself on his knees for the second time since he’d arrived, emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush.

Panting as the clarity returned to his watering eyes and the breath in his lungs was restored, he stood shakily, steadying himself. He wasn’t a fan of whatever that had been. But it was over. He would continue.

Stepping back out onto the main path he did a double take. He’d found the address. In his stupor, he’d nearly walked right past it.

It didn’t stand out from the other buildings it was attached to, a little two-story thing with a raised stoop that made it apparent that it had a basement with a window well. At the top of the eves was a round window that hinted at the possibility of an attic, but it was hard to be sure from the exterior. The roof was a tarnished copper like many of the others on the road, but in a way that was ornamental instead of the result of a lack of upkeep. The verdigris contrasted the rest of the structure in a way that almost seemed deliberate, with red brick and metal ornamentation that almost reminded him of what one would expect in the more common districts of Piltover but with a slightly different flare. It was… Nice. Easily one of the coziest-looking buildings on the lane. Strange. It even felt like home.

Jayce wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he’d imagined where he’d choose to live in the Undercity, but this was a far cry better than what he’d had in mind. Nothing opulent, but to be fair, that had never been the case for any place he’d lived aside from the Kiramman Penthouse during his studies. He dug through his waistcoat pocket and produced a set of keys as he approached the door. There were a few on the ring, in fact. Something else to look into later. If he was there that long.

It took a few keys before he found the right one, but eventually, the door opened and he stepped across the threshold, immediately hit by the comforting warmth of the space. If the outside had been quaint and cozy, then the inside was nothing short of welcoming. Instantly, it felt like a place he’d like to stay in. An archway made in the same art nouveau style with just a sprinkle of art deco that the rest of the building’s exterior had been crafted in opened up into what seemed to be a living area of some sort. Just ahead of him was a staircase leading to the upper level. 

Even with the curtains partially drawn across the back window, he could see the wealth of plants in the back conservatory off to the side of the back of the building, accessible via the hallway that ran down past the staircase. An interesting choice. He’d never been the best at keeping those alive despite his best attempts. Perhaps they were specimens for some sort of study.

But as he considered this the same pain he’d felt in his skull returned from nowhere, only with no warning or build-up and with the vengeful spite of a curse set upon him by a wrathful god. He bumped into the wall as he dropped the papers he still carried onto a side table, nearly stumbling over it in the process as he reeled back and used both hands to clutch his aching head, digging his fingers into his scalp as though gouging through his flesh and excavating all the gray matter from his body was the only recourse from which he could hope to derive release.

Gasping soundlessly save for the sound of air parting ways with his lungs, he grounded himself as he clenched his eyes shut. It would pass. It had to. His worst moments always did for they were merely that: moments. He groaned shakily, panting like a shaking animal as his ears wrang, seeing only the flashes of color and fractal nonsense that were the hallmarks of the Arcane anomaly. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and head as the ceaseless agony slowly subsided, pushing and pulling in tormenting waves until it became vaguely bearable again, coherence no longer simply a product of wishful yearning.

He didn’t hear the handle turn; he didn’t register the door swing open or the silence as it returned to the room. Jayce didn’t feel the presence of another person in the room with him whatsoever, so overtaken was he by the ordeal he’d just experienced. His ears felt like they’d never be useful again. And then he heard a voice. As clear as crystal. Like a chime ringing out in the utterly consuming darkness. He didn’t currently possess the faculties necessary to discern the topic of conversation, but he knew that voice anywhere.

Viktor.

(-~-)

After SEVERAL delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one is FINALLY out and I am over the moon. Seriously, I have so much that I want to do with this AU and so many little stories that I want to tell within it, so bear with me. Sometimes my brain just doesn't cooperate with my writing schedule, but the excitement is there, I promise. I want to know what you guys think! It’s been so long since I’ve started something like this. Was the writing okay?

I have a one-shot to write and then I’m going to start chapter two immediately so the plan is to get it out within the next day or two, if not sooner. Fingers crossed. Thanks again for checking this out! If you want to hear more I have info for the AU on my Bluesky and my Tumblr and they are both linked in my bio. I can provide links if you’d like them. Just let me know. I’d really like to know what you think of this so far. Do you want this to go in a more spicy direction in the future? Is that a no-go for you? I’m itching to hear your feedback. And I hope to see you in chapter 2. Take care and I’ll see you soon. Bye!

[sowrennie]

Okay so I’m currently in Love and Deepspace hell and now it’s everyone’s problem. I may not entirely ever understand what’s going on, but that’s okay I’m still going to give my two cents on what Caleb may bring to the table. Please correct me if I’m wrong😭

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MAINSTORY SPOILERS AHEAD!

1. Ties to EVER

Hear me out here. I know this is a common speculation but I want to delve into it and lay out the facts where I can see them. We kind of know what EVER’s goal is, we also— according to the notes we collect— know where their investments lie. They play a dominant role in biotechnological developments, aerospace, Evol energy, and international trade. We also know that Caleb works as a fighter pilot for the Deepspace Aviation Administration. He attended the Aerospace Academy in Skyhaven: an artificial floating island above Linkon. From what I gather, Skyhaven is powered by a protocore— and EVER is known for their involvement and use of protocores in modification/advancement. With what is made known to us it’s safe to conclude that Caleb is an affiliate. It’s hard to say whether or not he knows about the aether core, assuming he does though, he knows that upon the experiments— MC is basically immortal. She would be an asset to their research, and goal of extending lives. I wonder if Caleb feeds them this information, but at the same time— I’m just… not fully sure, seeing his particular niche and all. It does feel like they have their eyes on mc, though… I don’t entirely remember, but in awaited revelry, doesn’t Sylus imply that Josephine and Caleb have malicious intentions…? That being said—

2. Caleb’s return..?

I have a speculation that, like many cases we see (albeit some failed ones), he’ll be resuscitated via protocore; EVER can’t lose a valuable asset, after all. It fits thematically, and can further establish Caleb’s character as a character foil to Zayne (who despite his regrets, feels that death is a necessary part of the human existence.) An apple a day keeps the doctor away and all! This is the first ML we know that actively has interacted with another, and I genuinely can’t wait for what this means for Zayne’s story, even if EVER isn’t behind Caleb’s heavily implied return. He’s still facing what should be a dead man, and ugh. I KNOW his emotions are going to pile up. Staring directly at the Mt. Eternal anecdote. This could be a stretch, but— Carter, Xander Sciences trying to rope Zayne into their projects over and over— MC is the perfect bait, and bringing Caleb back may establish MC’s direct involvement and have Zayne be enticed by proxy. Caleb does play the role of the forbidden (potentially), and this could be how that motif comes into play.

3. Snake Motif…

Okay so I have yet to do my research on this entirely, but like— I just think it’s so interesting that they released Sylus during the year of the Dragon, and then potentially Caleb, during the year of the Snake. That aside, though— the clear biblical connection between the snake and the apple and potentially being that lure— what snakes generally symbolize (mystery, deceit…), and I saw this floating around somewhere, but apparently in CN he calls the MC ‘little tail’? I’m so interested in what this could mean symbolically with all his apparent affiliations, buuut that’s for us to see.

I’m looking forward to that livestream and tbh idk if anything here made sense but I’m so normal about this game (even if I likeee barely understand it.) What are you going to do Caleb. What’s happening. I know this is different from what I usually post here but I NEEDED to yap or else I might go insane idk

What are you hiding.

[ditzydoe444]

Can we have something with Bruce Wayne and his trophy wife, please? (I love your work, I’m biting myself as I write this.)

MDNI 18+

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

smutty

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

bruce would spoil you with all the lavish jewels and bags you would want because not only was it benefiting you, but also for him. being a man of high status meant having a pretty decoration on his arm. in this case, it was you. he would spoil you rotten, taking you to all the lavish boutiques, where he would leave carrying your handful of shopping bags. he insisted on getting the best of the best, he would have his sales associates get the limited edition pieces as well as ensuring the dresses were specifically made for you.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

you would be all dolled up for events bruce would admire you, his gaze would drift all over your body and how the dress clung to every curve. he would make you spin around before giving a soft kiss on your forehead, occasionally if you looked really good, he would kiss your neck. though it never went further than that, he would have to wait until after the event was over. he didn’t want his pretty little thing walking out all flustered and fucked up, would he? let alone having his cum drip down your thighs during the event.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

you would get so many compliments at the events and gala, gaining everyone’s attention. news headlines would go crazy, writing all about you. bruce loved every second of it, flaunting you like you were his prize possession (which you totally were). though he didn’t appreciate the lingering eyes on you, always having a possessive arm around your back.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

the attention that you received were both good and bad, many would compliment you on your looks and how the expensive dresses were made for you. others would question the age difference, bruce was an older man, whilst you seemed to be controversially young. though bruce never paid any mind to it, because at the end of the day people don’t know the relationship dynamic between the two of you, other than what you want to put out.

bruce wayne x trophy wife! reader

despite how much of a patient man bruce was, there were times where he looked too good for him to keep his hands off you. he would drag you to the private bathrooms before removing your dress hastily and propping you on the counter of the bathroom sink. it wasn’t long before he then discarded his belt and tugged his pants down. you were already so wet foreplay wasn’t even needed, god you didn’t even want it. all you want was to have his cock shoved up your cunt. he filled out his suit so well, that his broad shoulders and huge biceps would strain against the expensive material, it was only normal to be wet at the sight.

bruce wasted no minute before he shoved his fat cock inside your tight cunt. he placed your panties in your mouth, as a makeshift gag. “don’t even make a sound,” he grunted in your ear as he continued to thrust harder and harder. “don’t want the high socialites seeing what a desperate whore you are.”

it wasn’t long before you reached your orgasm, saliva dribbling down as the thin material shoved in your mouth barely did its job, and tears streaming down your eyes. bruce would softly wipe your tears away and clean you up. what kind of a gentleman would let his wife walk out completely fucked up?

[daughterofhecata]

Weil ich schon wieder unschlüssig bin, keine Ahnung von Technik habe, und bei Peter das mit den Vibes uneindeutig für mich ist:

*spezifisch tragbar, also irgendwas, dass er in die Uni mitnehmen könnte, bzw zur Arbeit (yes this is about the Dad!Skinny AU)

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

I feel like something that should have been explored more in Arcane is that despite the dangers and pretty much horrific conditions, Zaun children seemingly grow up a lot more caring and have a larger understanding of family in comparison to Piltover children. And if such a reflection of the real world in a sense.

The kids of Zaun seemingly grow up with a lot more adult support. Ekko is easily welcomed under Benzo’s wings. Vander adopts 4 kids (two of which we learn he knew of before their parents death, two of which we can’t be sure of). Silco, despite all what happened, and his ulterior motives, shows no problem adopting Powder/Jinx. In the alternate universe it seems as though he’s still played a part in the kids lives. Jinx adopts Isha easily and Sevika cares for her as well. Hell, even Mr. War Crimes Against Humanity does well with little Viktor (until ya know, the animal abuse).

Hell, up until Vander dies (the first time) there seems to be a large understanding of if there’s an orphan or a kid in need of guidance, take them in! (And certainly don’t inform them of your plans to turn a giant pink salamander into drugs and be confused when a nine year old doesn’t understand). If a kid wants to be your apprentice, let them! For the most part, until things all went wrong in the end of act 1 of season 1, the worst parts of Zaun seem pretty typical for any city in poverty.

Match that with what we see with how Caitlyn and Jayce grow up. Caitlyn is given adult support, yes, and it’s clearly a good adult mentor, but it’s not entirely by her choice. It’s been chosen for her. She’s safe, but there’s a lack of freedom of choice. Meanwhile, when Jayce gets older, and that same accident in Act 1 happens, the family that supported him and his mom turns their backs. His own mom doesn’t support him either, because she’s afraid of what he’s talking about, but also because he’s damming them to being outcasts.

Conversely, Vander is more than willing to take the fall for what Claggor, Milo, Vi and Powder did. He’s willing to go to prison for a long time, in order for them to have a better future. Despite Vi’s best efforts, he’s not going to listen to her (she is just a kid) and he’s not letting his family go down and get hurt.

Meanwhile, a man who grew up in this mentality, where there’s a wide sense of family support from people who aren’t your biological family, is the one to go to Jayce, a stranger, and tells him he believes in him. It’s why it’s such a shock to Jayce; his own family and family friends denied him. They didn’t support him.

I think that’s what makes all the difference. Piltover and Zaun have wildly different understandings of family and forgiveness. For Piltover, it shuns and damns the lives of those who upset the balance. For Zaun, it provides safety and never ending understanding.

Just. I’m thinking.

[silusvesuius]

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[no1ryomafan]

I decide to change my pic to this fuck ass ryoma frame and I would say I have a new related ramble to accompany this but instead my brain has continuously wander back to the smallest detail of “how many fucking years was arma ryoma actually in jail” and I wish it didn’t because it’s so insignificant to the plot but my brain REFUSES to let it go.