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lupin-et-rose · 2 months ago

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BSD Brainrot (Pt. 2)

Just an outpouring of horny thoughts on main. (Again).

BSD boys x F!Reader — NSFW

Part 2 - Atsushi & Akutagawa (separately)

Warnings: Cursing, frequent sexual references, completely subjective headcanons

A/N: BSD gods, forgive me, for I have sinned. (Again).

Why is WAN the only group gif I can find for this filth-?! It is Ungodly~!

Minors DNI - 18+ only

Atsushi

Gods help me, I would not feel a damn thing sexually for this sweet cinnamon roll if not for fucking Tumblr-—

Can I just say I hate how this gif gave me *ideas*-?

Okay it first and foremost, this boy is probably the closest to Poe-levels of sub that you'll find on the ADA team.

Like, sure, he grows into his confidence and could eventually top/dom you, but more likely than not, it will be by your request.

And even then, the most likely scenario is that he's a service top all the way—and so hopelessly clueless about how this stuff works.

He grew up in what seems to be a very rigid and conservative orphanage, so chances are their sex-ed was minimal at best.

Because of that, at least for the first little while, you're gonna have to be his teacher.

Showing him where everything is, helping him find what feels good for you and for him.

But let me tell you—this boy learns. And not only that, this boy Remembers—

You show him something once, and Istg

Just imagine this boy: the first time you even suggest anything spicy, his entire face goes bright red. Like hands-in-his-lap, eyes-on-the-floor, stuttering apologies red.

“I-I mean… if you want to—I would! I just—I don’t know if I’d be any good at—”

You kiss him. Gently. He trembles.

And then he asks you questions. So many questions.

“Does this feel good?”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Do you want it slower?”

“Should I use more pressure?”

(He gets so adorably flustered if you moan without warning.)

His tiger form makes things… interesting. Once he’s comfortable enough, you start experimenting with that transformation—and he’s mortified at first.

But when you praise the strength in his arms? The heat of his skin? The way those claws barely scratch as he grips your thighs?

He whimpers.

“I’m not too much like this? You still want me?”

He’s the kind of partner who says, in all earnestness:

“I want to make you feel good. Please let me try. Tell me what to do.”

And when you do? He listens.

You guide his hands between your legs, teach him how to use his mouth, where to suck, how long to stay—and he watches your face the entire time like it’s the only thing that matters.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive. Whisper in his ear? Gone. Stroke your fingers down his chest while straddling him? Gone. Suck on his neck and call him “good boy”?

Absolutely wrecked.

Breathless, gasping, half-hiding under your touch and still trying to make you come first.

That tiger arm, though? Very dexterous. Very strong.

He holds you down with it once—accidentally—and the way you moaned makes something awaken in him.

“Did you like that?” he asks, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.

You smile. “Do it again, Atsushi.”

And he does. With a look on his face like he can’t believe what he’s getting away with.

The more confident he becomes, the more dangerous he gets.

He still asks before trying new things—but his voice gets lower. His hands steadier.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers, slowly sinking to his knees. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

The first time you two went all the way?

Atsushi was nervous. Not because he doesn’t want to—he definitely wants to—but because he cares so much it physically hurts. You kiss him once, and his hands are already shaking.

You have to guide him through everything. Kisses, touches, undressing—each piece of clothing taken off gets a gasp like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You’re so—beautiful,” he breathes. “I don’t even know where to look—”

He keeps checking in. Constantly.

“Does this feel good? Is that okay? Am I doing this right?”

You have to literally hold his face and say, “Atsushi, you’re doing perfectly.”

He lets out this soft, shuddering breath like you just lifted a hundred-pound weight off his chest.

The first time he makes you moan? His brain short circuits. He stops mid-movement like—

“Wait. That—was that because of me?”

You nod. He blushes so hard it spreads down his neck.

Then he gets this determined look and says;

“Okay. I want to hear that again.”

When he’s finally inside you, he has to pause. Not because he doesn’t want to keep going—but because the sheer intimacy of it nearly undoes him.

He buries his face in your neck, whimpering, “This is real. You really want me.”

You wrap your arms around him, kiss his ear, and whisper, “I do. All of you.”

He’s not perfect—but he’s so attentive. So eager. So in love with the way you respond to him.

And when he finally comes, it’s with this shocked little cry, his entire body trembling, arms wrapped tight around you like he’s afraid to let go.

—Another special thing about that first time, was what a Koala that boy turned into after the fact.

He doesn’t even roll off of you right away. He just stays there, trembling slightly, forehead pressed against your shoulder, arms around your waist like he’s fused to you.

You run your fingers through his hair. His breathing slows.

And then, quietly—almost like he doesn’t want to say it—he whispers:

“…Did I do okay?”

You reassure him. You kiss his temple. You tell him how good he made you feel, how gentle he was, how deeply you love him.

And that’s when the dam breaks.

He clutches you tighter, lets out this choked little exhale, and you realize—he was holding it together for you.

Trying to be brave. Trying to impress you.

Now that it’s over, he lets himself feel it all.

He becomes physically incapable of letting you go. If you try to shift, or get up for water, or grab the blanket?

“No—stay. Just a little longer—please—”

His limbs wrap around you like vines. He tucks his face into your chest, eyes fluttering closed, voice muffled in your skin:

“I’ve never felt this safe before. Not ever.”

And if you pet him? Run your nails gently down his back, kiss his shoulder, hum something soft—

He purrs.

Actual tiger purring.

He’s too blissed out to even be embarrassed about it.

Later, when he’s a little more coherent, he gets weirdly formal about it.

“I, uh… I would like to do that again. Whenever you want. Or if you don’t want to again, that’s okay, too—I just… um… thank you.”

He bows his head. He bows.

You gently tilt his chin up and kiss him stupid again.

And when he sleeps? Oh, he clings. One arm under your waist, the other across your stomach. A leg thrown over yours. His whole body curved around you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the Earth.

You whisper his name. He doesn’t even open his eyes—just hums and squeezes you closer.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs. “Even if I fall asleep. Stay with me.”

And you do.

Because now he’s yours—and he knows it.

Oh, but when the Tiger in him likes you too? Things get even better—

You notice it first during those soft, quiet moments after sex—when he’s warm and boneless against you, breath slow, cheek pressed to your shoulder, arms looped around your waist.

The purring starts up again—deep and resonant, like a lullaby from somewhere under his ribs.

But then you feel it.

The soft brush of something warm, furry, and alive curling around your calf.

You look down.

His tail. Poofed into being. Slowly wrapping around your ankle, then your thigh, and then the both of you like ivy.

He doesn’t even seem to realize it’s happening at first.

Until you stroke it and whisper, “Getting comfy, tiger?”

He jerks up, yelps, turns scarlet.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—heh—I didn’t know it was doing that—!”

Oh, when the tiger in him likes you…Not just lusts after you. Not just obeys you. It likes you—enough to claim you, cling to you, curl around you like it wants to keep you forever.

A nd when you play with his hair? Or nuzzle him on the train? Or rub your thumb over the spot where his tail joins his spine?

That tail tightens. The purring deepens.

And Atsushi just melts against you with this soft, desperate little sigh.

“Feels…really nice. Don’t stop.”

But when someone interrupts? That’s when things get interesting.

Someone brushing too close to you in public. A stranger leaning in to ask a question. An agent standing just a bit too close while you’re on a case.

You feel it before you hear it: a low, warning growl, deep in his chest.

It surprises everyone—especially Atsushi.

He stares at them wide-eyed. Then at you.

“I—I didn’t mean to growl—I’m so sorry—are you okay?! I wasn’t trying to scare anyone I swear I—!”

You’re okay. More than okay. In fact… You lean in close. Brush your lips against his ear and whisper,

“Do that again in private.”

And just like that, his knees go weak.

If it happens in the field—some sleazeball with a smirk and wandering eyes—you see the tiger come out in his posture, his growl, the way his tail lashes behind him.

He’s not even aware of it. But you are.

And when the bastard backs off, and the threat is handled, and Atsushi returns to you flushed and flustered and full of apologies—

You grab him by the collar and pull him into the nearest dark corner.

“You growled. For me.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

You lick your lips. “Do it again.”

And before he can process what’s happening, you’ve got your hands under his jacket, lips on his neck, thighs parted as you drag him into the kind of kiss that makes his tail go rigid and his claws dig into your hips.

(Gently. Just enough to scratch. Just enough to feel.)

Later—after breathless gasps and soft apologies and trembling fingers—you whisper,

“The tiger in you really likes me, huh?”

And he hides his face in your shoulder, voice muffled and low:

“Yeah. I think… we both do.”

Then we hit the turning point. Once Atsushi had gathered enough confidence to hold his own—HO~BOY!

It starts with teasing. Your teasing.

You cup his face mid-makeout, whisper something like, “Still so red… You’re always blushing like you’ve never touched me before.”

You grin. You expect him to fluster.

But instead, though still blushing, something flickers in his eyes. Something almost like a challenge—like determination. He blinks at you, slowly. Tilts his head.

And says, “That’s cute coming from the person who starts shaking when I put my tongue right…”

His hand slides down between your thighs. You gasp. His lips twitch. The first flicker of a satisfied smile.

Or maybe you poke fun at how territorial he gets—“Purring when I scratch your ears, growling when someone looks at me, kneading my ass like it’s your favorite pillow…”

And he just shrugs, trying to be unbothered. Though your words - and the ones about to leave his mouth - make his ears burn.

“Well,” he murmurs, slipping a clawed finger beneath your waistband, “you’re mine. It’s only fair I treat you like it.”

That’s the thing: he remembers everything. Every soft spot. Every stuttered gasp. Every weak-kneed moan you gave him when he was learning.

And now? He’s got his claws in just the right places.

He presses you down into the mattress with that half-shifted tiger weight, mouth hot on your skin, breath panting in your ear:

“You taught me so well, love. Let me show you what I’ve learned.”

He kneads your thighs like a cat—claws just grazing, enough to leave tingling trails. He kisses your belly while whispering,

“Still think I’m too shy?”

And then his tail wraps around your ankle and pulls—gently but firmly—spreading your legs for him as he sinks down between them with a growl.

You swear the floor tilts. You try to sass back—“Oh, so you think you’re in charge now?”—but your voice cracks when he bites your inner thigh and mumbles,

“Only when you want me to be.”

Then he slides his tongue exactly where you need it, curls his clawed hand under your hip, and devours you like he’s starving.

His eyes glow faintly when he’s half-shifted. His fangs flash. His tongue—God, his tongue. You swear he’s figured out the exact pattern of pressure, temperature, and sound that makes you break.

“You’re so loud for me now,” he murmurs, pupils narrowed to slits. “Where’s all that teasing gone?”

And he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

When you come apart under him—shaking, crying his name, breathless and spent—he smirks. Pushes your hair back. Kisses your forehead.

Then purrs, “Do I still need the training wheels now, love?”

And even as you lie there twitching, legs numb and brain short-circuited, he’s still going.

Trailing his claws down your sides. Mouthing at your neck. Whispering,

“One more, just to be sure. You’ll remember this, won’t you?”

He’s still your soft boy. Still cuddly. Still blushes sometimes.

But now? Now he knows he can wreck you.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, you’ll catch that tiger smile—the one that says, I could break you again if I wanted. And maybe I will.

***

Akutagawa

(Istg, all the BSD boys in a randomiser & this is what came up after Atsushi. You can’t make this shit up.)

God help us all. You don’t just “sleep” with Akutagawa. You undo him. He doesn’t know how to be touched, how to ask, how to receive anything that isn’t harsh or violent or tactical. The idea that pleasure could be given—softly, gently—is so alien to him, he treats it like a reconnaissance mission.

In the beginning, everything is Rashomon.

You could be on your back, breath hitching, legs shaking, and it’s still the inky-black tendrils of his ability holding your wrists in place, tracing down your thighs like he’s mapping pressure points.

He doesn’t move his face. Doesn’t emote. His eyes flick over your body like a surgeon measuring every twitch and whimper.

His voice is low, command-heavy.

“Breathe. Again.”

“Hold still.”

“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you come undone.”

He never lets you touch him back. Rashomon always intercepts. Not because he doesn’t want you to—he just doesn’t know how to take softness.

To him, your moans are data. The arch of your back is intel. He’s learning you like a battlefield—and fucking hell, it’s hot in the most emotionally constipated way imaginable.

And then—you touch his hair.

It’s nothing. Barely more than a brush, your fingers slipping into the dark strands at the nape of his neck while he’s above you, concentrating, scowling.

He freezes.

Like someone pulled a trigger on a trap he didn’t realize was rigged to his spine. His breath stutters. His hand (yes, an actual hand) trembles.

You murmur something small—something soft. Maybe a “Good boy,” maybe just, “You’re doing so well.”

And he vanishes. Stiffens. Retreats. Tosses some curt excuse about a mission or Dazai or the weather before slamming a door behind him and leaving you gasping and confused.

The next time you see him? He won’t meet your eyes. His hands stay gloved. He speaks in half-sentences, as though afraid you might kiss him in broad daylight and collapse the last defenses he’s spent years building.

Until you do kiss him.

Take him by the cravat. Pull him in. Press your mouth to his with love, not hunger.

That’s when he blue-screens.

Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t react—until, seconds later, his fingers are trembling around your waist and he’s kissing you back like you’re the first breath he’s ever drawn of clean air.

And from that moment on? All bets are off.

He becomes ravenous. Like the floodgates have opened and now he’s starving—for your body, for your touch, for the sounds you make when he presses you to his desk and hisses in your ear:

“Louder. I need to hear you.”

(Oh yeah—Akutagawa’s got an auralism kink that hits like a freight train. Your cries, your moans, your gasps when he licks you with terrifying precision? He’s rock hard from sound alone.)

He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize your lungs. Bites your shoulder to muffle his own groans.

His hands, once so hesitant, now trail reverently down your body—calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs like they might burn him if he grips too tightly.

And the first time you whimper his name? His knees almost give out.

He fucks like a man making up for lost time—sloppy, intense, possessive but never cruel. And when he cums, it’s with this raw, shaking groan, like the pleasure is tearing him apart.

Afterward, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He stays close. Hovers. Eyes you like you might disappear.

“You’re not… hurt, are you?”

You guide his head to your chest. Whisper, “I’m perfect.”

And he lays there like he might actually believe you.

The sheer insanity of how needy he becomes once he starts craving your touch.

It sneaks up on him. At first, it was tolerable. You’d kiss his cheek. Brush your fingers through his hair. Hold his hand under the table like it was no big deal. He thought he could handle it.

He cannot handle it.

Now he finds himself seeking it. Reaching out for your hand in quiet moments. Standing just a bit closer when you walk side by side. Letting his shoulder bump yours on the train even though he’s never let anyone stand that close before.

(And the second you rest your head on his shoulder? He stops breathing entirely.)

If you so much as sigh his name during a kiss? He’s on you. No thoughts. No restraint. Just gloved hands sliding under your clothes, lips on your neck, muttering, “Say it again.”

And God help you if you brush your fingers over the back of his neck—the spot right where his spine meets the edge of his hairline. He shudders. Every time. Like you just hit the kill switch on his self-control.

You start to do it on purpose.

He starts to lean into it like a cat.

At night, in private, he becomes downright clingy. You’ll wake up to find him half on top of you, one arm wrapped around your waist, his face tucked against your shoulder like he’s trying to disappear into your skin.

If you try to get up? His voice is groggy, rough:

“…Stay. A little longer.”

He doesn’t ask for affection. Not directly.

But he’ll nudge your hand toward his hair. Tilt his head to the side like a silent plea. Sit beside you and very, very quietly whisper,

“Touch me.”

And when you do? He sighs. Actually sighs. Like he’s finally breathing again.

Sex becomes less about dominance and more about being close. About skin. Contact. Hands on your hips, on your chest, on your face.

His kisses go from rough to hungry—as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth.

He starts to memorize you too. The exact angle your head tips when you’re about to lean in and kiss him. The way your breath catches when his fingers graze the inside of your thigh.

And when he starts craving it?

He’ll take you by the hand, bring you into the shadows of a back hallway, and whisper:

“I need you. Now.”

Rashomon still helps. Still flares out and restrains you sometimes. But it’s no longer about control. It’s about keeping you close. Holding you where he can touch you, kiss you, feel you.

You’ve become the one thing in his life he can’t stand to be without.

The First Time You Give Him Aftercare…You expected to have to ask him to slow down. To breathe. To lie down after.

What you didn’t expect was how quiet he gets.

Not cold. Not distant. Just… still. Tension thick under the surface. A storm not yet spent.

He always checks on you first.

Pulls his gloves back on. Helps you redress in stiff, silent motions.

“Are you… hurt?” he asks, eyes flicking over your skin like it’s a damage report.

You tell him you’re okay. Kiss his cheek. Whisper, “Now let me take care of you.”

He stares at you like you just spoke a language he doesn’t know.

“…I don’t need it,” he mutters.

You cup his face, run your thumb along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

“I didn’t ask if you needed it. I’m doing it because I want to.”

You get him a warm towel. Gently clean the marks left on his skin—nail crescents on his hips, love bites blooming at his collar. He watches every motion, frozen, like he’s afraid to breathe.

He can’t make eye contact. Not until you tuck him against your chest, fingers combing through his hair, and whisper something so small and sweet it nearly breaks him:

“You don’t always have to be strong with me.”

And that’s when he shakes. Just barely. Not quite crying. But trembling.

You kiss his hair. Rub circles into his back. Stroke the muscles in his arm until his fingers unclench.

And slowly—slowly—he begins to relax into you.

His breath evens. His body stops bracing.

You whisper, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

He murmurs, barely audible: “…Thank you.”

Aftercare for you is harder for him to grasp. He tries—but it’s clumsy at first.

He offers you water with trembling hands. Wipes your brow with the stiff grace of a man who’s read about tenderness but never felt it.

But he learns.

You show him how to hold you without urgency. How to be present with you, not just for you.

And when you kiss him afterward—slow, unhurried, gentle—he exhales like a man who’s just learned the word love in a language only your touch can translate.

The second time he lets you care for him, he doesn’t flinch when you pull him into your lap.

The third time, he asks—quietly.

“Will you hold me again?”

By the fourth time?

He’s the one guiding you to bed after. Curling around you protectively. Whispering,

“You were perfect.”

It’s still awkward. Still a little stiff. But it’s his way of saying:

I’m yours. You showed me how to rest. And now I’ll never stop wanting to rest with you.

Outside the bedroom, He doesn’t get jealous. He gets… observant. Watchful.

Someone talks to you for a little too long? Leans too close? That gloved hand is suddenly placed—casually, perfectly—at the small of your back.

His fingers curl, just slightly.

“Are you done?” he asks the third party without looking at them.

(You swear the air temperature drops ten degrees.)

You wear something a little more revealing than usual on a mission. Nothing scandalous. Just enough to draw a few lingering glances.

He says nothing.

But you feel Rashomon wrap lightly around your wrist while you’re walking beside him.

A soft tug.

A silent reminder: Mine.

You reel back laughing at something Tachihara says.

Akutagawa doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t raise his voice.

He just steps closer behind you, mouth near your ear, voice low as sin:

“Tell me—does he make you gasp for air like I do when I have my mouth between your thighs?”

You choke. Tachihara smirks at both of you, shooting a smarmy wink your way before he backs off. Akutagawa’s still glaring.

In bed, it’s different. Hotter. Worse.

You think you’re in charge for a second—riding him, grinding slow, teasing him with praise.

Then his voice drops:

“You want to play coy, now? After the way you screamed for me last night?”

And suddenly Rashomon is bracing your hips down, grinding you into him at his pace, until you’re gasping and cursing and his name is the only thing in your mouth.

He doesn’t like being separated on missions. Even if it’s strategic. Even if it’s necessary.

“You’re better at recon,” you argue.

He shrugs. “You’re better at staying alive when I’m nearby.”

If someone else touches you, even innocently—a teammate brushing your arm, a hand on your back in a crowd—he notices.

You always know because he touches you back in the exact same spot ten minutes later.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like he’s rewriting it.

And if you stray too far during a joint op? Oh, he’ll find you. He always does.

Silent as a shadow, he appears at your side, eyes sharp.

“Don’t stray far again,” he murmurs.

You try to play it off—“I was only across the street.”

His hand slides to your waist. Pulls you in close.

“I mean it.”

He doesn’t say “mine”—he acts it.

In the weight of his stare when someone else makes you laugh.

In the curve of Rashomon around your ankle beneath the table.

In the way he whispers your name in your ear when you’re close to coming—

“Only I get to see you like this.”

And when you finally whisper back, “I’m yours”?

The look in his eyes isn’t just possessive. It’s worshipful.

Like he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

And like he’ll destroy anyone who thinks they could.

#atsushi x reader #akutagawa x reader #bsd atsushi #bsd akutagawa #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #bsd #bsd fanfic #lupin et rose #lupin et rose writes

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anas-aspiration · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I make a request where reader is really innocent (like Ana from 50 shades innocent) and she and Carl are making out in his room and she starts grinding on his thigh so he turns all softdom on her and guides her and leaves hickeys all over her sweet spots? <3

Pale

Warnings: thigh riding, hickeys, clit

433 words Not edited yet edited

God, today was so boring” you huffed, plopping onto carls bed.

You swung your arm over to his bed and switched on the fan to its highest setting, immidietly melting into the cool air.

“What did you do?” he questioned, now joining you on his bed.

“Well while you were out on that run, exploring and doing interesting stuff, I was here being forced to join Ron in teaching his brother baseball.” You sighed very loudly, hinting to him about a previous conversation about wanting to go with him on runs.

“Baby.. you know you can’t come with me, it’s just too dangerous out there and we haven’t trained you yet.” he said in a stern, yet caring voice, bringing his hand to stroke your hair.

“I know… and it’s okay, I just hoped the answer changed” you sat up

You knew he was just looking after you, but you can never shake off the small feeling of worry whenever he was away. As your mind drifted for a split second you couldn’t help but notice how soft and warm he looked in his pajamas. A fuzzy feeling erupted in your stomach as you looked him up and down swiftly.

“It’s only because I love you, okay?” he said faintly, cupping your face

“I know, I love you too” you said smiling

He leant in, connecting your lips. His lips were plump and gentle. You both stayed like that for a second as he traced his hands down your side, making you slightly squirm. You moved further into the kiss letting it get deeper, and more heated.

You slowly break the kiss, catching your breath, and climb on top of his lap. With a sigh, you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth. He began to trace your back, finding your ticklish spots making you squirm into him once again. But this time was different, you felt a jolt of pleasure down your abdomen that was very unfamiliar.

You stayed frozen in your position, trying hard not to chase the pleasure you had just received. It was obvious he didn’t notice because he was still tracing your back. It had suddenly gotten so much hotter in the room and this new feeling was not helping. It couldn’t hurt to just move your hips a little bit more, he hadn’t even noticed the first time. Slowly you rolled your hips downward, and continued to get a little carried away. Your breath got heavier, as you closed your eyes slowly riding out this small amount of bliss.

“Y/n?” Carl questioned, guiding your hair behind your ear so he could see your face.

“Mhm?”

“Does that feel nice?”

You blushed shamefully. “I-“ you paused unknowing of what to say.

He slid his hands down to your hips and began to guide them down his thigh on his own. “I get it..do you want to keep feeling good?”

You nodded, head buzzing.

He began slowly kissing down your neck and leaving prominent hickeys all the way down to your chest. You look down to see your body well and abused from his lips. He unbottoned your tank top to reveal your bare chest. He swirled his tounge along each bud, letting the cool air take you.

His rough hands trace the top of your cotton shorts and up your stomach. All of this was overwhelming you, your mind raced through blank thoughts. Your eyelids droop further with each soft moan that falls from your lips.

You reach a particularly smooth spot and loud squeak slips out.

“Baby you have to keep quiet for me, can you do that?”

“Yea” you say feebly

You could feel him getting hard through his sweats. It was driving you into the clouds.

He took your hand in his and guided it down your shorts, then circled your clit with your index and middle fingers, leaving you feeling weak.

The pleasure felt like fireworks all up your body.

“carl-” you moaned out

“Are you close?”

“I think so”

You began to get sloppy with your movements, chasing the feeling of tipping over the edge.

Your eyes froze shut and your mouth gaped open before Carl caught your lips in a kiss before you could make any more noise. Your vision went white, and you basically saw stars. The orgasm rocked you. Carl helped you ride the whole thing out.

Once it faded away, you plopped down onto the bed once again.

“You’ve never done that before?” Carl asked after you caught your breath.

“Well.. no”

“That’s okay, but why are you laying down, we’re not done.”

A/n!!

Boy am I ready to go to bed. I wish I could sleep for days. But I really enjoyed writing this even though I feel like I didn’t quite give it my all so I’m gonna proofread and edit a bit later. But thank you for the request hope this suffices 🩶 also not apart of kinktober

#carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fic #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes #carl grimes angst #carl grimes smut #carl grimes x you #carl grimes you #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine

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littlest-w01f · 3 months ago

Text

Home Celebration

Sylus x Reader

SYLUS MASTERLIST

LADS MASTERLIST

Summary: It is your love's birthday, you decide to do something special and intimate for the two of you

Cw: Cute fluffy stuff, very self indulgent, nudity

a/n: IT'S HUBBY'S BDAY YAAAHAHHHHDJJSIENDKENDKSNDKSM TIME TO PARTYYYYYY WOOO HOOO also the card is what I would've sent if it didn't have a 60 character limit. Fic on Ao3

As the big day was here, you couldn't contain your excitement. You had been secretly planning Sylus' birthday for weeks now, determined to make it a memorable one. Evening light spread through the curtains as you bustled around the kitchen in the N109 zone, carefully arranging the colorful cupcakes you had spent hours decorating with intricate swirls of frosting and edible glitter. A delicate cake stood proudly on the counter, adorned with a majestic dragon and a mischievous kitten playing together, a whimsical design that perfectly captured both you and Sylus.

It was the day before his birthday, so he was asleep, giving you the full space to set everything up for when he woke around night.

You folded a handmade card you had written and kept it gingerly in a basket, placing the cupcakes on a spiral stand. The cake in the center.

You heard Mephisto caw at you, and you turned to smiled, "Does it look good, Mephie?" You asked the mechanical crow.

Mephisto let out a series of caws, sounding quite like a real crow, in response to your question. His shiny black body glinted in the soft evening light as he flitted around the festive arrangement, his beady red optics scanning every detail with interest. After completing his inspection, Mephisto landed gracefully on the edge of the spiral cupcake stand, tilting his head to regard the colorful treats.

"I'll take that as a yes." You said, gently stroking the smooth metal feathers along the crow's back.

"Ah, just me and the bird my boyfriend uses to stalk me preparing for his birthday." You smiled, moving around, setting the used utensils in the sink to wash.

Your hands moved deftly as you tidied up the kitchen, the clink of dishes in the sink providing a soothing background melody. Despite the late hour, a warm glow emanated from within you, a sense of contentment and anticipation for the special day ahead. As you scrubbed away at a stubborn stain, your mind wandered to happy memories with Sylus, lazy Sundays curled up reading together, lively nights filled with laughter and music, listening to his vinyl, quiet moments of tender affection.

A sudden realization made you pause, a small smile playing on your lips. It struck you then, how much this whole elaborate celebration felt like a declaration of sorts, a statement of the depth of your feelings for him. You thought about all the little gestures, the personal touches, the way you'd poured your heart into making this day unforgettable.

As you cleaned, you heard the shower turn on from your shared room above, you smiled at Mephisto, "He's up."

"Oh... This is it." With a mix of nervousness and exhilaration, you placed the glass dome over the elaborately decorated cupcakes and cake, sealing in the sweet aromas and vibrant colours. Stepping back, you took a moment to admire your handiwork, a swell of pride and love filling your chest. This was more than just a birthday celebration, it represented the culmination of your emotions, a tangible expression of your feelings for Sylus.

As the sound of the shower continued from upstairs, you couldn't help but imagine him emerging, fresh and clean, ready to be surprised by your thoughtful preparations. The anticipation built, your pulse quickening slightly as you mentally rehearsed the reveal. You glanced at Mephisto, who cocked his mechanical head, as if sensing your eagerness.

With a deep breath, you began ascending the stairs, each step echoing softly in the still, now night, air.

You looked at your phone, a few hours till midnight, till his birthday, he'd slept longer tonight. You smiled, looking around his room, seeing the silhouette of his form in the steamed shower.

As you entered Sylus' bedroom, the steam from the shower created a hazy veil, obscuring most of his form. However, the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders against the foggy glass told you he was still under the soothing spray. You tiptoed closer, drawn to the sight of him, even partially hidden. His tall, lean frame seemed to exude a quiet strength, a robust beauty that always left you breathless.

This moment, watching him in such intimate repose, felt almost sacred. You decided to savour it, to commit the image to memory, a treasured snapshot of the man you loved.

As silent as you could, you entered the bathroom, leaving your electronics behind as you entered the bathroom, eyes fixed on his form as he ran his hand through his wet hair under the spray, his back flexing, you couldn't tear your eyes away as they went down, to the curve of his ass, to his thick thighs.

Your gaze traced the lines of his powerful physique, drinking in the sight of his toned muscles rippling beneath his skin as the water cascaded over him. The way his broad shoulders sloped into a narrow waist, the tantalizing curve of his rear, the solid mass of his thighs, every contour seemed etched specifically to drive you wild with desire.

Despite your best efforts to remain discreet, you found yourself subtly shifting, angling your body to better appreciate the view without being too obvious. The heat from the shower enveloped you, and for a fleeting instant, you considered joining him, letting the warm water melt away the chill of uncertainty that had settled in your core. But you resisted the temptation, knowing this moment was meant to be a surprise.

"Are you done admiring and ready to join me, kitten?" Sylus purred, turning his head to look at you, a smirk on his face.

Before you could answer you felt his evol grab you by the waist, pulling you in the stream, drenching your clothes.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as Sylus' strong arms wrapped around you, effortlessly pulling you under the torrential spray. Water soaked through your clothing, warming you to the bone, yet you couldn't help but giggle at the sudden, playful intrusion into your daydreaming.

Sylus' smug grin only widened as he held you close, his large hands splayed across your lower back. "Caught you staring, did I?" He teased, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine despite the warmth of the shower.

As the warm droplets pounded against your skin, you felt your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "M-maybe a little," you admitted, your voice barely audible over the roar of the water. "But I couldn't help myself. You're just so... distracting."

When he noticed the shower landed directly on your face, he turned you both together so that his shoulder protected you from the harsh spray. "Now that you're here... Let's make the most of it," Sylus finished, his words dripping with innuendo as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The steamy atmosphere, the sensation of his hard body pressed against yours, the lingering taste of his mouth on yours, it all conspired to ignite a fire within you, a hunger that only he could satisfy.

As his tongue delved past your lips, exploring the depths of your mouth, you felt your knees weaken, your resolve crumbling under the onslaught of his passion. Your hands slid up his slick torso, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair as you lost yourself in the embrace, the world narrowing down to the two of you, entwined in the steamy cocoon of the shower.

"Sy..." You sighed, leaning into the kiss, hand lacing in his damp hair, "Ha-happy Birthday, baby..."

"Mmm, thanks kitten," Sylus murmured against your lips, his voice roughened by desire. "Though I think we can make this a birthday celebration neither of us will ever forget."

His hands roamed your curves, fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath to caress the warm, damp skin beneath. "I've got a present for you too," he added, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. "And it's not something you can wrap up and put under the tree."

"I'm supposed to get you gifts... Not the other way." You smiled, reaching for his shampoo, lathering some in your hands. "Come here..."

Instead of coming closer, Sylus sank to his knees before you, the move putting him at eye level with your waistline. His intense gaze met yours as he waited for you to begin washing his hair, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The position allowed him to gaze up at you adoringly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

As you worked the shampoo into his white locks, your fingers massaging his scalp, Sylus let out a contented sigh. "This feels amazing, kitten," he breathed, nuzzling into your touch. "Maybe you should start charging for these massages."

The intimate act sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't resist leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo mingled with the dampness of the shower. "Consider it a birthday gift,"

Your heart ached with love for the man kneeling in front of you, you smiled as you continued to pamper him.

As you rinsed the shampoo from Sylus' hair, your fingers lingered on his scalp, savoring the sensation of his skin beneath your touch. The tender gesture spoke volumes about the depth of your affection for him. In that moment, surrounded by the misty veil of the shower, it felt as though nothing else existed except the two of you, lost in the intimacy of the act.

Sylus gazed up at you, his eyes shining with gratitude and adoration. "Thank you, kitten," he whispered, his voice filled with love. "You always know just how to make me feel special."

Emotion welled up inside you, threatening to spill over. You bent down, pressing your forehead against his, the steam from the shower making a soft background.

With his gentle strength, Sylus scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stepped out of the steamy bathroom. The cool air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your exposed skin. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tight.

Once in his room, he set you down on the plush couch, quickly retrieving a large, fluffy towel from the linen closet. Sylus began drying you off, his skilled hands rubbing the terrycloth over your skin in soothing circles. You closed your eyes, revelling in the warmth of the towel and the gentle care of his touch.

You shed your wet clothes as you watched him dry himself. "Wear something good..." You smiled up at him.

Sylus raised a brow at you, "Something planned, huh, kitten?" Sylus' eyes sparkled with intrigue as he listened to your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Oh, I think I have just the thing," he purred, disappearing into his closet.

Minutes later, he emerged wearing a fitted black dress shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscular torso. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his forearms. Dark jeans hugged his hips, topped with a crimson jacket over his shoulders and polished leather boots completed the ensemble. As he strode towards you, you couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

The vibrant crimson hue of the dress you wore accentuated your complexion, drawing attention to your features and the sparkle in your eyes. The knee-length hem flared out around your figure, creating a flattering silhouette that highlighted your curves. Delicate lace trim adorned the neckline, adding a touch of femininity to the otherwise sleek design.

As you stood there, radiating a captivating blend of innocence and allure, Sylus approached you, his gaze roaming appreciatively over your form. "Kitten, you look absolutely stunning," he breathed, his voice low and husky with admiration. "That colour suits you perfectly."

He reached out, tracing a finger along the curve of your hip, his touch igniting a spark of desire within you. "Now what have you planned?"

You smiled, pulling him with you downstairs, to the decorated kitchen, "Happy birthday!" You presented with a "ta-da" hand gesture.

Sylus' eyes widened in delight as he took in the festive scene before him. The kitchen was transformed into a veritable wonderland, every surface adorned with vibrant red balloons, twinkling fairy lights, and colorful streamers. The air was heavy with the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods, and the centerpiece - a magnificent cake topped with a fondant dragon and kitten duo - caught his attention immediately.

"AH! Sweetie, this is incredible!" Sylus exclaimed, spinning around to face you, his expression a beautiful mix of surprise and joy. "You really outdid yourself!"

He pulled you into a fierce hug, burying his face in your hair as he inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeated, his voice muffled against your skin. "This means the world to me."

"Wait... There's more!" You smiled as you reached into the basket pulling out a popper. You twisted it, making sparkles pop out.

As the colourful sparks rained down, Sylus laughed with unbridled delight, clearly enjoying the whimsical surprise.

When the last sparkler fizzled out, leaving a trail of glitter on the countertop, Sylus turned back to you, his gaze soft with affection. "Oh, kitten, you're going to spoil me rotten," he teased, reaching out to playfully tug at a strand of your hair.

You pulled and held up the card you'd made. You opened it, clearing your throat, you looked over the words you had written for him, a flush rising on your cheeks, "Umm... I wrote you something... You read it..."

Sylus' eyes softened with tenderness as he took the card from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing against yours in a reassuring touch. He unfolded the paper, his gaze scanning the handwritten words with a reverence that made your heart swell. He began to read, "Happy Birthday, Sy, I can't believe you just told me when it was while even Luke and Kieran don't even know it. I send all of them away so your birthday date doesn't get spoiled."

He looked up from the paper, and then said his own thing, "Well, of course, I'd tell you anything. Nothing of mine should be a secret to you, sweetie."

Sylus continued, his voice low and heartfelt, "From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special. Your kindness, your generosity, your unwavering support - it's been an inspiration to me every single day. You make me want to be a better person, I'm so grateful to have you by my side, kitten."

He looked down at your card again, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I love you more than words can express, Sy. You're my home, my safe haven, my partner in every sense of the word. You're my dragon who's kept my heart captive and I never want you to let me go."

"The thought of you away from me makes my heart hurt, I want nothing more than to be with you forever, lost in your arms. You bring me comfort I never thought possible, you make me forget all the bad in my life. You are one of the few good things in it, when I'm with you, I know I have a soul I can count on. I enjoy our time together more than anything. I love being yours."

He stepped closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, "Oh, sweetie, you're the one who owns my heart. And this Dragon will never let his Dragon Li go. No matter what. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it."

Your breathing hitched at his words. Sylus' declaration hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and devotion. His intense gaze held yours captive, the depth of his feelings evident in the burning intensity of his stare. You felt like you were drowning in those oceanic eyes, suffocating under the weight of his love.

Slowly, deliberately, Sylus reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against your cheek in a feather-light caress. The gentle touch sent shivers racing down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you leaned into his palm.

"I need you, kitten," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. He knelt on one knee in front of you, pulling a velvet box from his jacket.

You gasped, seeing the box, "Sy..." Your eyes stay on that box, heart hammering so quick you could hear it in your ears.

When he opened it, there was a candy ring pop inside. And with that, the moment between you changed.

Sylus chuckled at your reaction, a mischievous glint in his eye as he revealed the unexpected contents of the velvet box. The candy ring pop sparkled in the light, its bright colors a playful contrast to the formal setting.

"Well, I figured since you already have my heart, I might as well give you something sweet to go with it," He quipped, his grin infectious. "Besides, I thought this would be a fun twist."

He popped the ring into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours once more. The sugary treat was surprisingly heavy, the weight of it a physical representation of the promises and commitments it symbolized.

"Oh my god..." You gasped looking at the ring pop, set on your ring finger "I THOUGHT YOU WERE PROPOSING!"

Sylus chuckled from where he was on his knee, "Oh I plan to." He stood up, close, your body pressed against his, "But when I do, It'll be my moment. And mine alone."

Sylus' words sent a thrill through you, his proximity and the promise of a future proposal igniting a fire within your soul. You leaned in, your lips hovering mere inches from his as you searched his eyes for any hint of deception or hesitation. Finding none, you melted into him, your mouth claiming his in a passionate kiss.

As your tongues danced, Sylus' strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart, mirroring the frantic pace of your own. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intoxicating embrace of love.

When you pulled away, you brought up the ring pop to suck on, pointing to the cupcakes, "Try it!" You said through the candy.

Sylus grinned, amused by your playful suggestion. He plucked the ring pop from your lips, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on the sweet candy. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he savored the flavor, a satisfied hum escaping him.

"Mmm, not bad," he murmured, handing the ring pop back to you. "Although, I think I prefer the taste of you." His words were laced with suggestive undertones, a clear invitation for further exploration.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Sylus reached for a cupcake, popping it into his mouth and closing his eyes in blissful enjoyment. Crumbs dusted his lips, which you promptly licked clean with a teasing flick of your tongue.

With a smile you placed a candle in the cake, "How old are you turning again? 29? 300? 600?" You asked teasingly.

Sylus chuckled at your jest, shaking his head in amusement. "Just 29, kitten. Though I suppose I'd be quite ancient." he joked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he brushed a stray curl behind your ear. "But with you by my side, I feel younger than ever. You keep me young, kitten. Keep me alive."

"Sap." You playfully hit his bicep. Lighting up the candle. "Here. Make a wish."

Sylus captured your hand, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he peered at the flickering candle flame. For a moment, he simply breathed in the scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting from the cake, savoring the intimate atmosphere.

Then, with a soft smile, he closed his eyes and made his silent wish, his free hand finding yours and intertwining their fingers. The warmth of his grasp seeped into your skin, a tangible reminder of the unbreakable bond you shared.

When he opened his eyes again, they shone with a quiet contentment, his gaze locked onto yours. "Whatever comes next, kitten, I'm exactly where I want to be. Right here, with you."

He cut a piece of the cake, his evol lifted the piece, keeping it over your lips as he brought down his head do kiss the dessert between you both.

The moist, velvety texture of the cake melded with the sweetness of Sylus' lips as he fed you the decadent treat. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine. The intimate act felt almost sensual, a private language spoken only between the two of you.

As you savored the flavors, Sylus' eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a smoldering intensity that hinted at the desires simmering just below the surface. The air between you crackled with electricity, each heartbeat pulsing with the promise of untold pleasures waiting to be explored.

In that moment, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of forbidden passion and the knowledge that nothing could ever come between you again.

#sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus lnd #sylus fluff #qin che x reader #sylus qin #qin che #sylus lads #sylus lnds #sylus l&ds #lads x reader #lads fluff #sylus fanfic #lads fanfic

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Beginning to Slip

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: after watching one of the scream movies, you have some fun with toji and a ghostface mask

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cnc, size kink, knife play, face slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, mentions of murder and death and ghostface stuff

word count: 3k

a/n: um i had to repost cause if issues with tags. but yes i did write one like this for leon a few months ago but idgaf 🤪 i hope everyone enjoys <3

It had started normal enough. A regular night shared between you and your boyfriend, watching movies in bed as you often would do when you both had the spare time and lack of energy for anything else. After scrolling through the tv for a while, you came across one of the new Scream movies.

“Ooh, I haven’t seen this one yet. Wanna watch with me?” you’d asked him casually, sparing a little glance in his direction.

Toji looked at the screen, scanning the description with mild interest. He shrugged. He’d never shared your affinity for horror, never really saw the appeal of slasher movies, but if it put you in a good mood, why would he say no?

You pressed play and tossed the remote to the side. Your head rests on his chest, splitting your hearing between the actors talking and the steady beat of his heat. He absentmindedly strokes your head. You’re quiet for the first couple scenes. That is until you hear the iconic voice crackling through the opening girl’s phone.

“Why does the killer voice get less hot every movie?” you ask.

A simple, innocuous question. One you had posed to other people when you had watched the film before this one. But to Toji, it isn’t just a passing remark. He raises an eyebrow and looks down at you.

“Hot?”

A smile grows on your lips as you meet his eyes. “Yeah, hot,” you laugh.

“Isn’t it supposed to be scary?” he teases.

“Yeah… but that’s what makes it hot,” you respond, your smile widening, “The voice, the knife, the stuff he says. I don’t know. It’s just kinda…” You squirm a bit, trying to communicate your desires through motions rather than figure out the proper wording.

“Kinda what?” he continues affectionately mocking, “You got a thing for masks too? Want me to rough you up a bit?”

You laugh a little more. “Maybe I do.”

His eyes widen with slight curiosity, but he plays it off in the moment, making a joke of how he didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. But the comment stayed with him. It replayed in his head even after the credits rolled and you fell asleep in his arms. It was still with him the next morning when he woke up.

Toji was by no means innocent. He was familiar with all this kinda stuff. He understood the appeal. That wasn’t what had his mind lingering on the idea as he showered and got ready for the day. He just never expected you, his girlfriend who’d always been so gentle, to want to get rough.

He wasn’t against the concept though. Not at all. Visions of you flooded his mind. You completely ruined beneath him, face wet with tears and drool, hips bruised from his fingers. He was so not against it he had to jerk off in the shower. Thanks to his overactive imagination though, it didn’t take too long. As soon as he got out and dried off, he ordered one of those masks.

He felt silly in the days after, painfully aware of how eager he was for it to arrive. When it finally arrived, he knew it was worth it though. He pulled it out of the bag, letting the black cloth fall into place. The ghoulish face stared back at him as if it knew what it was about to be used for.

That very night he intended to use it. He waited till the evening when you were sprawled across the couch relaxing. Then he snuck off to the bedroom and got dressed up. Donned in his normal black shirt with gray pants, he peered into the eyes of his reflection as he pulled the mask over his head. It sat flawlessly, the fabric pooling around his neck perfectly.

The last item he needs sits inside a drawer on his side of the bed. The knife. He’d had this part handled long before he knew you’d be into it. He takes out his favorite one, the one he knows will look prettiest pressed against your flesh. As he watches it glimmer in the dim light of the bedroom, he knows he’s ready to go.

He struts into the living room, pausing several feet away from you and allowing you to just take it in. He feels a pulse within the confines of his jeans as your eyes sparkle. You sit up slowly, looking him up and down.

“Toji?” you ask, “What… what are you doing?”

“You said you had a thing for masks and knives, yeah? Well I know you got a thing for me too,” he says as he begins to approach you.

He sees how your pupils lock onto the reflective blade. Holding the handle, he points it at you. The flat of the cool metal rests beneath your chin. He applies pressure and directs you to look up at him.

“Do you wanna try this out?” he breathes.

Timidly, you nod.

“I wanna hear you say it,” he says.

“I wanna try it out,” you answer.

“You want me to be rough?”

Another nod.

“How rough?”

“As much as you want,” you say so quietly it sounds close to a whisper.

He stares down at you for a moment, thinking over your answers. His thoughts smash into a mental wall when he hears your next sentence.

“Want you to make me cry,” you say. You’re looking up at him with doe eyes too. How could he resist this offer?

After a few moments of contemplation, he swipes the blade away from your jaw. “Should I give you a head start?” he asks simply.

A chill fizzles down your spine. He didn’t even need a voice mod. He already had the voice of an apex predator. You shake your head at his question, causing him to smile beneath the mask.

“Make the first move then, bunny,” he says.

As quick as you can, you scramble off the couch, ducking under his large arm. He chuckles while making a grab for you. You nearly trip but manage to make it to your feet and bolt down the hallway.

He spins around and follows, hot on your tail. He doesn’t have to run, his long legs carry him fast enough with a simple stride. The thrill of adrenaline pumps from your heart and out through your veins. You dash around different pieces of furniture, trying to prevent the heavy footsteps behind you from getting too close.

You come to a crossroads when the path ahead splits between another hall and the staircase. Without a second thought, you sprint up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom. It was pure instinct, but you know this game is about to reach the main part when you see his body fill the doorway. His chest rises and falls with his breaths. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can’t see them. Like a gazelle caged in with a tiger, you know there’s only one way this will end.

“Up the stairs instead of out the front door,” he tuts with a shake of his head, “An amateur mistake. One that dumb little girls like you always make.”

He stalks closer to you, and in-turn, you back away. Your steps continue until your back bumps the wall. He’s closing in, nearly close enough to pin you to the wall. As a last ditch effort, you dart to your left in the direction of the bed. In your mind, you were going to hop over the mattress and manage to speed past him back out the door.

You don’t get that far because he grabs one wrist and then the next and slams you face down on the bed. With your arms pinned to your back, all you can do is wriggle to try and find a way to slip out. He puts a stop to your squirming quickly though, jerking your wrists upwards and causing you to yelp in discomfort.

“Calm down, angel face. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Not until I have my fun at least,” he purrs.

He runs the tip of the blade along your skin peeking out from where your shirt had risen. There’s not enough pressure to draw blood, only leave you with a sting of anticipation. A shaky sigh leaves you, but you're careful not to move and send the knife piercing through your flesh.

“That’s better,” he hums before pulling the knife away and placing it to the side.

He releases your wrists as well, planning on removing your top next. You don’t make it that simple though. Your arms stretch forward and claw at the blankets to try and drag yourself to the other side of the mattress.

It takes him no effort to wrangle you back into position. His frame is so much larger than yours, it’s like he’s covering every inch of you. Anywhere you try to move, he’s already there. His fingers wrap around your limbs and encapsulate them completely.

He wrestles you still and whips you around onto your back. One of his hands comes up to your throat and sharply jerks your head, bouncing it off the cushioned surface below you.

“That’s a fight you won’t win, little brat,” he breathes as the eyes of the ghostface mask watch your figure.

You resign to be still for a few moments, only minorly fidgeting as he peels your shirt off you. He takes his time. Each second another inch of your body is exposed to him. He drinks in the revelation of your form. He’s so focused, so calculated with his movements that he doesn’t see your arm swinging at him until it collides with the side of the mask, almost knocking it loose.

To him, it was absolutely nothing. He doesn’t even falter. It registers in his mind in the same way a kitten batting its paw would. He stares down at you with a wild grin on his face underneath the white plastic.

His hand leaves your throat and grips your jaw, straightening you out before landing a firm slap on your cheek. He almost breaks and lets out a laugh at the way your hips jump from the contact. He gives you one more on the same cheek before lowering himself closer to you. You feel the cool smoothness of the knife dragging up your stomach and between your breasts as he speaks.

“Count yourself lucky it’s only my hand I’m using,” he taunts before using his free hand to tap your face once more.

The combination of the hits with the low thrum of his voice had you dizzy. Your head feels foggy in the best way as your heart beats faster and your chest rises and falls quicker with your increased breaths. The knife trails along your collarbone. You can feel a light scratch as he presses slightly harder than before. Still not enough to have you spilling crimson, but the right amount to have your panties sticking to your cunt from arousal.

“You gonna be good for me now, or do I need to give you a better reason to be?” he asks, voice right next to your ear. Your blood was running hot as you could hear him breathing under the mask, feel him hard and pressed against your thigh.

“I’ll be good,” you agree. Your voice comes out soft and hazy. He smirks at the state you're in from just a few smacks.

He backs off, rising to his feet again at the side of the bed. He tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it to the side before dropping his pants. You can nearly feel your eyes dilate as they take in his appearance. No matter how many times you saw it, it never got old. Each ridge and dip in his muscular abdomen and chest looked so familiar but thrillingly new. His cock was a whole other story. The sight of it hanging between his legs had you drooling in more ways than one.

Reaching forward, he yanks you closer to his body by your hips and then tugs your pants off. The forming pile of clothing on the floor grows as he discards them there.

You’re now splayed out on the bed, left only in your panties. He can see the slick that’s soaked the middle of them. Slowly, he grabs the knife again and brings it between your legs. You whimper as you feel the edge of the blade slide up against your clothed center. Your jaw drops and your legs tremble. You stay perfectly still, your eyes trained on the veins on his forearm as he maneuvers the weapon.

“You’d look beautiful covered in red, babydoll,” he

It glides up the thin cloth between your legs and over your pelvis. The tip catches on the elastic waistband. You bite your lip. Your pulse becomes audible to you as the fabric lifts from your body, hooked on the shiny metal.

“Toji,” you whimper. You see the mask tilt up a bit as he glances at your face, but he says nothing. Until the garment snaps, tearing on the sharp point as the pull becomes too taut.

“You’d be the prettiest one yet,” he murmurs, “All marked up. No mistake about who you belong to.”

His fingers come up to the split in your underwear. He rips it in half like it’s nothing, drawing a gasp from you. The shreds of fabric hang from your legs, and he doesn’t bother removing it any further. Enough of you is accessible for his purposes.

Cupping his hands behind your knees, he pushes your legs up beside your stomach. He can’t get enough of how your pussy glistens and drips for him. He drags two fingers through your folds before gripping his cock and stroking it a few times. He lines up at your entrance and looks down at you for a moment.

“You ready for me, doll?” he asks.

But before you can answer, he shoves himself all the way inside, filling you completely with one stroke. The motion tears a loud cry from your lungs while a cruel laugh comes from him. You try to muffle it by covering your mouth, your own palm flying to your lips. He rips it away though and pins it back on the mattress as he starts thrusting.

“Don’t try to keep that shit from me. The sounds might be the best part,” he grunts, “I’d bet you’d sound the same if I was slicing you up instead of just fucking you stupid.”

Your eyes roll back as another moan springs free. Constant whimpers come next, intermingling with the creak of the bed. He’s not giving you time to adjust like normal, he’s getting right into it, hard and fast.

His skin slaps against yours, and you grip at his biceps, nails digging into the skin. His head tilts back as he sighs at the small stings. One set of fingers dig into your leg with a bruising hold while the other hand returns to your throat. He holds it, using it for leverage to continue drilling into you with no mercy.

It’s ruthless. You’re left gasping for air as your body bobs with the force of his movements. Your walls tighten up and release, struggling to accept the size of him still. Only the cusps of words can breach your lips. Nothing coherent makes it through.

Tears prick at your eyes as everything else in the world fades to the background. Your lashes flutter as you try to keep them in. They finally spill as his hand connects with your cheek again in a small tap.

“I asked you a question,” he growls into your ear.

“What?” you whimper as warm beads roll from the corners of your eyes, down your temples.

The sight of your glossy eyes looking up at him is almost enough to push him over the edge but he refrains and keeps slamming into your wanting hole.

“I asked if you were crying yet, but I think you have that answered,” he says.

“Oh,” you whine simply.

Your cries become more audible while your lips remain permanently parted, an endless cycle of mewls and whimpers seeping out between sobs.

You’re trembling and sucking him in more than before. His head has dropped to the crook of your neck as his breaths have morphed into harsh puffs. You’re both close and each of you knows this.

Your shaky hand rises to the back of his head, pushing the mask up over his head and letting his smooth black locks fall free. The mask falls off him onto the bed as he brings his head up to look into your eyes.

“Wanna see you when you finish me off,” you choke out.

He grins when hears that and presses his sweaty forehead to yours. “Any last words?” he asks.

One final shake of your head, and you explode from him. You scream as the pleasure courses through you. He locks his digits around you and presses his face harder against yours. The only time it was ok for your sounds to be hushed was when it was caused by his lips on yours.

He keeps fucking you hard and fast, only cumming himself as the overstimulation begins to set in for you. His cum floods your insides as he groans into your mouth. His body continues to roll rhythmically through the whole thing.

When he is done, he practically passes out on top of you. You push on him a little bit but not too hard. Being pinned beneath him was far from the worst thing in the world. He doesn’t move though. You’re kinda shocked he even pulls out with how unresponsive he was to you at the moment. You only know he’s still conscious from the tender way he holds your waist and the kisses he’s lavishing on your neck where his fingers had once been.

You decide this position is as good as any and lazily grab the tv remote which laid in its usual spot next to your pillow. With a few clicks of a button, you’ve got the first Scream turned on. You wrap your arms around Toji and nuzzle his head in return, content to drift off tangled together to the sounds of Drew Barrymore being slaughtered.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro imagine #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ch: toji fushiguro 💌

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callizinc · 3 months ago

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i know i keep sending u asks but i like ur ena takes. anyway what do you think of ena’s religious streak

SNILES AT YOU SO SNEETLY.... yes... Keep stroking my ego.... YESSSSSSSS. Ok anyway 😭

That's a great question, Because on the whole: Ok I have no fucking idea. I MEAN i definitely think there's a coherency and, dare i say, Something Going On(tm) in all the references to religion, but i absolutely Cannot say any interpretations for sure right now. What i will say is this:

It seems significant that it's only ever Sales ena that talks about God and blessings

(and i. Definitely. don't think sales and meanie are different entities at all, I don't think we'll ever have a concrete idea of what they are for certain, which is fine, BUT i think the best way to describe them is as different moods of one whole. Anyway).

It also seems significant that after the Shaman fucking blows his house up, Ena says as Meanie "I don't even believe anything" which is... Vague enough for me to find it unable to draw anything rn LOL, But it is a VERY stark contrast to Sales always talking about god and blessing people...

The Shaman also says "May the Gods forgive me" in the Plural for gods, which is. interesting. Are there different religions in this world, or are the existence of god/gods an objective fact? If that's the case, is Ena or the shaman in the wrong? Does it matter? Is the shaman just insane? Maybe, but he also is the only non-genie person besides Ena to mention a divinity at all

Her religious streak also seems directly tied to her whole scene with Theodora, being about to be forgiven from her "sins" and ascending to be an "angel", and then having All that ripped away because she's Ena 😭

There are also some references to an afterlife—right now I mostly remember an NPC saying "hangovers in the afterlife can make you real thirsty" which I think was referring to the Purge? Because obviously the aim of that event. Is to fucking die. but still: What do you mean by... afterlife. Like how so. Like what is going on

That's all i can say right now—this is an incredibly fascinating subject matter, but also one that's pretty confusing and i doubt has any sort of conclusion right now LOL. Maybe i could stretch really hard and say Ena being religious is a kind of comfort for her to get through a world where everybody hates her for no reason? But. Mannn I don't knowwwwww

I also do see people say stuff along the lines of like, the Ena world as a whole being a form of afterlife or purgatory which. ......No. I don't.... Think so. 😭😭. Like..... no... But at the end of the day, truly what do i know

#THANK YOU. SAUR MUCH. FOR THE ASK #AGAIN. EXCUSES TO TALK ABOUT ENA META IS LIKE. Its like putting cocomelon in front of me. Its like an oversized rainbow swirly lollipop #SO LIKE. THANK YOU + Also i appreciate that you?? like my takes? :'D thats very niceys thank you vm :]#ena dream bbq #ena #ena joel g #analysis #askbox

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hrefna-the-raven · 2 years ago

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The devil you (suddenly) don't know

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4

Words:501

Warnings: smutty stuff mentioned but technically no actual smut, at least not in the usual amount

Summary: You're having doubts on what happened between Raphael and you. Raphael seems to have his very own issues with the feelings he's harbouring for you.

Raphael reclined on his bed, his legs casually apart and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, lost in deep in his own thoughts. Haarlep eagerly dragged his tongue from Raphael's chest downwards, teasingly twirling it around the tip of the semi-hard cock.

"My, oh my", the incubus chuckled, "is my dear master preoccupied?", giving the devil's cock frustratingly slow lick.

Raphael hummed absentmindedly, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the world around him, desperately seeking the solace and structure his troubled mind craved since the discussion he had with you.

"I didn't think it possible but here you are, being even less interested and reactive than usual", Haarlep continued shamelessly, "not even able to get it up this time."

"You contemptuous creature!", Raphael spat as he hurled the incubus aside and on the bed, his hands closing around Haarlep's throat, squeezing tightly with a vengeful intensity, "don't forget your place, slave!"

Haarlep's eyes were glowing for a brief moment before the corners of his mouth twisted into a vicious smirk causing Raphael to loosen the hold on his throat.

"It's all about her, isn't it?" he croaked, his voice still hoarse from the choking yet carrying a subtle trace of mischief, "maybe I should take her form then, to please you more, master."

Raphael remained silent, simply waving his hand to dismiss Haarlep. If he had to deal a minute longer with this insufferable incubus, he would surely end up flaying him or worse. He would never confess that Haarlep was correct in this matter, not in front of him, nor anyone else. He was the offspring of Mephistopheles, a cambion fueled by grand aspirations and a reputation to uphold and this was Hell after all. In this realm, he couldn't afford to possess or exhibit emotions - love included. Revealing even the slightest hint of vulnerability would subject him to ridicule, exile, and ultimately, death. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as his hand wandered down, gently stroking his length, closing his eyes in a shameful attempt to experience that kiss once more. You might truly be the death of him.

The eerie silence of the mausoleum hung heavy in the air as you fought through its dimly lit corridors, facing justicar avengers on your way to the Orthon while constantly feeling the weight of your companions' scrutinising stares piercing you.

When Raphael brought you back, they bombarded you with questions, seeking answers that you weren't sure you were ready to give.

You found yourself wrestling with your very own doubts, awash with conflicting emotions. The charming but usually self-absorbed cambion's actions had left you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. Were Raphael's feelings genuine or were they merely a ploy to manipulate you further? Or did you just imagine the hint of a tender gaze and the subtle trace of concern in his voice? The weight of uncertainty pressed upon your chest, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #hidden feelings #almost love confession #raphael tries to hide his feelings #haarlep #haarlep x raphael #dangerous teasing #almost smut

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erotischer-lesestoff · 3 months ago

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The pleasure booster

Chapter 11 & 12

Kevin slept in the living room while the other two went to the bedroom. He pricked up his ears, but there was no sign of them having sex. Maybe it was the alcohol, both Robert and Gabrielle had been drinking heavily. Kevin didn't listen for long, he was just too tired. He wrapped himself in the blankets Gabrielle had given him and soon fell asleep.

The next day, or rather the next evening, they were invited to Robert's friends. It was the birthday of one of his friends. Kevin, who didn't know anything about such things, was amazed at the effort and the place, a huge bungalow, almost a mansion.

When Gabrielle proudly told him that Robert had designed the house, he couldn't understand it. He knew nothing about what an architect did.

Robert took it in stride, Kevin was still very young. Because of his youth and his homosexuality, Kevin quickly aroused the interest of the women present, and since he was single, they tried to set him up.

They tried to find out what his preferences were and what kind of man he liked. Since, for obvious reasons, he had no experience in these matters, he simply said that he found Robert attractive. Of course, this immediately gave the impression that he would have liked to have a liaison with Gabrielle's partner.

This led to wild speculation, some of which was brought to Gabrielle's attention. She thought it was funny what rumors were circulating. Kevin, on the other hand, felt rather uncomfortable. He liked Robert, he was sympathetic to him, but not in this way, and besides, this game was almost too much for him. Over the next few days, Gabrielle had to keep convincing him to keep pretending to be her gay friend.

Her involvement went so far that Kevin no longer had to wear the chastity cage. It didn't make sense anymore, he was out as a gay man everywhere, if he started something with a woman the whole web of lies would collapse. So it happened that he suddenly went through life without the chastity cage. It was a strange feeling to him. How quickly you can get used to something. In the evening, he turned over in bed on his favorite side and let his hands wander over his body to his crotch. He had done this many times in the last few days, but until now his penis had always been locked in the cage. Now he could touch himself again, touch his cock.

Carefully he began to jerk off. He did it very gently, wanting to savor it, enjoy it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his fingers as they gently stroked his penis. Again and again, his fingers massaged the sensitive tip of his cock, the tender skin of his glans. It was pleasant. But nothing more. He continued to concentrate on his sensations, squeezing a little harder. Without success, his cock sent out pleasant sensations, but nothing more. It wasn't like it usually was when he stroked himself. Confused, he lay down on his back to satisfy himself as he had been doing for the past few days. His hands quickly found the old rhythm and he felt the desired excitement rising in him. But it still wasn't the same, something was missing. The cage!

Frustrated, he stopped his efforts. Could it really be that he had gotten so used to the chastity cage that he could no longer climax without it? "Trial and error," Kevin told himself. After all, he hadn't destroyed the cage, he had simply opened the lock, as Gabrielle always did, and cut the shackle with a wire cutter. He hadn't thrown the cage away, but had put it in the sock drawer. He rolled out of bed, crouched in front of his closet and rummaged through the drawer. As he held the thing in his hands, he wondered if he should clean it. So he went to the bathroom, where he carefully cleaned the cage. Kevin remembered that Gabrielle had also treated it with what was supposed to be a disinfectant. It should work without that stuff. He would be embarrassed to ask Gabrielle about it, it would only raise more questions. He could always take the cage off and clean it. But first he had to put it back on, and Gabrielle had always done that, he himself had some difficulty with it. He winced once. His testicles had been squeezed a little.

Finally the chastity cage was where it should be. Now he needed something else to hold it in place. Holding the cage in place with one hand, he searched for the lock in the trash can with the other. Fortunately, the bucket was nearly empty. Still, he rinsed the lock thoroughly under running water. It wasn't easy with one hand. But where there's a will, there's a way. In the end, everything was in the right place, only his desire to satisfy himself was gone. No matter, Kevin told himself, tomorrow is another day. For now he felt complete again. He lay down contentedly in his favorite sleeping position, enjoying the feeling the cage gave him. It was a pleasant feeling, an exciting feeling. It just felt good.

Chapter 12

The next morning, Kevin wondered if he should continue to wear the cage. He decided to. It hadn't bothered him before and it was a familiar feeling. This is what normal feels like, he thought, and sure enough, everything was back to normal. He went to work, came home in the evening, ate something, spent the evening, and finally went to bed. Here, in the comforting warmth, he was able to climax again. He just suppressed the fact that what he was doing was actually something absurd.

This day was followed by the next and the next. It could go on quietly for him, but there were already forces at work that would give his life a new turn. A certain Charlene called him. He remembered her, he had talked to her at the birthday party and he had danced with her the day before, or rather he had tried to dance with her.

This Charlene's call was about his dancing style. She knew a dance school where he could learn the right rhythm, and the teacher was a good-looking man who was in his league. He didn't immediately understand what the caller meant. Somewhat belatedly, the penny dropped and he fought tooth and nail against meeting this man. But Charlene kept annoying him until he gave in and agreed to the dance class. He didn't have to pay anything. His lack of money had been his last trump card, but when he tried to use it, it didn't work because the financial matters had already been settled.

On the weekend, he went out with Gabrielle and Robert again. When he told Gabrielle about the dance school and his worries, she listened to his concerns and then said he should just give it a try, what could happen? The dance teacher wouldn't pounce on him straight away, and maybe he would enjoy learning to dance. Besides, he would come out of his shell and meet other people. Kevin sighed, what had he gotten himself into, where would it lead?

The next Monday was the day. Gabrielle drove him to the dance class, she did it voluntarily, partly out of female curiosity, partly out of concern. She wanted to know what kind of man she was entrusting her boyfriend to, and she was in for a pleasant surprise. The dance class took place in a tavern. When asked, the innkeeper pointed to a door that led into a small hall. A man pushed tables and chairs aside and looked up curiously as Gabrielle and Kevin entered the room.

"He looks great," Gabrielle whispered.

Instead of an answer, he just shrugged. Okay, the guy looked pretty good, but he was a man and Kevin was just playing the homo boy. He almost wanted to back out and leave, but Gabrielle wouldn't let him. She grabbed Kevin's hand and pulled him toward the man. The closer she got, the more attractive he became to Gabrielle. It's true, she thought, the best guys are either gay or taken.

The man looked at the two of them curiously and fixed his gaze on Kevin. "Hello," he said in a deep baritone that sent a shiver down Gabrielle's spine, "you must be Kevin."

The one addressed nodded.

"My name is Joseph, but please call me Jo."

Again Kevin nodded, "Hello Jo."

"And you are?" Jo looked at Gabrielle.

Gabrielle introduced herself, explained why she was here and asked if Jo could take Kevin home later, otherwise she would take care of it.

"No problem, I'd be happy to." He smiled, "Kevin could help me tidy up the room later."

"Sure," Gabrielle decided for her friend, "he'll do it. One hand washes the other. Right?"

"Right."

"Okay," Gabrielle said, "I'll leave you two to it."

A little wistfully, Kevin looked behind Gabrielle, wishing he could get away too.

This Jo seemed to sense this, so he asked him to help him with the tables and chairs to distract him. Kevin was able to take a closer look at this Jo. Where Gabrielle got the idea that he looked good, Kevin didn't know. Okay, Jo had everything a man should have. A distinctive face with small wrinkles around the eyes, a good figure, broad shoulders, big hands, and he had something South American about him, maybe there were Latinos in his family tree.

"And satisfied?"

Kevin was completely absorbed in his observations and was a little startled by the question.

Jo laughed and asked again if Kevin was satisfied with him, as intensely as he had been looking at him. Kevin blushed, tried to say something but couldn't.

"I know exactly why you're here," Jo continued, "Charlene, Hillary or Kathleen wanted to play Cupid again, didn't they?"

Kevin didn't immediately understand.

"One of those three got it into her head to set us up."

Kevin blushed and nodded, now understanding what Jo meant.

"You know, I think we'll just do them the favor." Jo was amused at Kevin's face and enlightened him. "You're here to learn to dance. Nothing more, nothing less.

If you feel like it, we can get together from time to time, go to the movies or something. For the women, we are like a couple, they leave us alone and we have our peace. Should we do it that way?

Again Kevin nodded, that sounded good. He wanted to say something else, but the other dance students came up and Kevin had to introduce himself. He had to shake a lot of hands and of course he had to dance.

The latter was more bad than good, but it was also the first dance lesson of his life. Kevin was very awkward and didn't know how to move properly. New couples were formed, but every time Kevin danced with a woman and tried to lead her, he failed on every level. Strangely enough, this didn't happen when he danced with Jo. Of course, this was because Jo was leading him and Kevin was responding accordingly. Nevertheless, by the end of the class, Kevin felt completely exhausted and cramped. Only when he and Jo put the chairs and tables back in place did he relax a little.

"Considering it was your first time, you didn't do too badly," Jo said, amused again by Kevin's face. He continued, "I'm going to teach you everything you need to know to satisfy me." He paused, "To satisfy me in my capacity as a dance instructor."

Jo laughed out loud, "You have a face as long as a violin, am I that repulsive to you?"

"No," Kevin shook his head vigorously, "No, not at all, but …" he made a helpless gesture.

Jo became serious. He put an arm around Kevin's shoulders, "I see," he said gently, "you've never really been with a man before?"

Kevin nodded reluctantly.

"I promise you," Jo said softly, "I'm not going to do anything you don't want, and if you don't want anything at all, you'll get that too, then I'm just going to teach you how to dance, that's it. Okay?"

Again a nod from Kevin.

The two of them set up the rest of the chairs and tables and then Jo drove Kevin home. He almost sank into the upholstery of Jo's car, an old French sedan that literally floated over the asphalt. They didn't speak during the ride. Kevin saw that Jo was driving with great concentration. He watched him as best he could out of the corner of his eye and had to admit that he liked this man, not on a sexual basis, but as a person.

"I'll pick you up here on Wednesday around six," Jo said as he pulled up in front of Kevin's apartment building. Kevin had been playing navigator for the last few miles and was glad to be home, so after a quick goodbye he got out, watched Jo turn his car around, and gave a quick wave as the car pulled away. Slowly and deliberately, he walked up the stairs to his apartment. This evening was strange. Well, it was his first dance class, but that wasn't the reason why the evening seemed strange to him, it was the fact that a meeting had been arranged between him and the dance teacher, and he was actually going to be set up with a man!

In the apartment, he let the whole thing go through his head again. He thought about what Jo had said, that he would teach him to dance, maybe take him to the movies sometime and pretend they were together. Right, he thought, this was the best solution. He dug out his diary, briefly described what he had experienced and then went to bed. Here he had to think of the last line he had written in his diary. Let's pretend we're a couple. He smiled into the darkness, somehow the idea was quite funny. This Jo… he wondered how one could name one's child only Joseph, it was no wonder that he preferred to be called Jo. But this Jo was nice, one could certainly have a lot of fun with him. He was able to look at him as a big brother, a better brother than the one he had. With these thoughts he fell asleep.

Click here for Chapter 13 & 14

https://erotischer-lesestoff.tumblr.com/post/778906516257406976/the-pleasure-booster

#gay romance #lgbtq #love story #transgender

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kamibanani · 9 months ago

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thoughts on the emperor, under a cut for spoilers. not tagging with the usual bc i don't super want this to leave my sphere but tagging with my game tag. not super looking for debate here but need to get my thinky thoughts out.

for some reason i really just knee jerk against the idea that everything positive he tells you is a lie re: his past life. i feel like there's just as much argument to be had that you only have his word and what he shows you.

if you're nothing but open to his help and kind to him he shows you good things.

if you constantly doubt him and antagonise him he shows you bad things.

we know through omeluum that freed mindflayers don't always inherently have a desire to possess and harm, even if their biological needs still require brains for consumption.

we see in a letter to ansur that the emperor knew ansur was trying to "save" him, that he begged ansur to stop, that he just wanted to be left alone, and know through both the emperor and ansur that ansur tried to kill him out of "mercy". this doesn't strike me as someone who like, has no morals or conscience. that the emperor killed ansur instead and that's supposed to be bad is baffling to me — ansur was trying to euthanise him and he protected himself??? on top of that the letter to ansur says the emperor "no longer feels [his] feelings" but someone who feels nothing would not care if ansur was suffering and beg him to let it go and be free, wouldn't care to try and dissuade him from the path he was on, he'd just kill him and have done with it.

if you ask him why he lied to you about his form and obscured the details of his circumstance, he says something very reasonable: that he couldn't be sure that you'd accept a mind flayer actually wanted to help.

if you constantly call him a liar and tell him mind flayers can't be trusted, you're only proving his decision to lie to you in the first place was warranted — bc you can't accept that he actually wants to help. so he becomes aggressive and makes zero attempt to be nice because what for? you have no interest in even trying.

withers says that mind flayers don't have souls; yet when the emperor accompanies you to the final battle he vouches for him. illithid tav is told by withers with some surprise when they die that they do in fact still have a soul — meaning it is, in fact possible.

and we know he does actually think about other stuff, that at minimum it isn't entirely an act for your benefit. you surprise him by entering the prism when his guard is down because he's ruminating over hearing that stelmane is dead. if you choose to be intimate with him — something that illithid do not need as a species, since they reproduce asexually — his control drops again because he is only thinking of you and being in the moment with you.

so my question really is... did stelmane suffer a stroke because of the emperor's control and manipulation?

or has he put on the mantle of villain and claimed responsibility for harming his friend because you cant imagine a world where a mind flayer had a friend — despite potentially meeting omeluum and blurg?

because we only see what he shows.

and if you can claim the good memories were doctored to hide the bad truth, then the reverse is also possible that the good truth was doctored to show you the villain you're desperate to see so that shit can move on and he can maybe get you back on track to being free of the elder brain for good.

#kami plays bg3 #spoilers ///#bg3 spoilers ///

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helicrazy · 1 year ago

Text

Vortex slightly gasps as the hold around him becomes tighter. It didn't hurt, and even if it did it wouldn't bother him at all, just caught him by surprise. The word harder might have slipped through the connection but perhaps Whirl didn't notice it past the comfort and joyfulness he's currently sending. His field beamed with delight in the presence of another helicopter who enjoyed his company as much as he did.

"Yeah of course." The teal mech answers, almost confused by the question. "I mean a close friend of mine had to talk me into it at first. I didn't think such a thing was possible since my creators made it very clear you were stuck with what they made you to be, but he helped me through it. Ultimately, it was the best frag you to my creator's faces." Another memory is shown where he was uncomfortable with his old frame, but after those upgrades he felt more himself, like he was complete.

Why do you ask? If you don't mind me questioning. He sends through the connection.

He wasn't prepared for the zap of electricity against his lips, yet it felt stunning and may want seconds. "That was charming~" His claws grip into Whirl's frame and he lets out a small laugh when pulled into his lap. "We can save the rough stuff for another time." Vortex replies. As much as he would love to experience it, he would still want to be conscious through the rest of this. Plus, this new position makes it more interesting. He can see Whirl's face, and learn those expressions as he carries on touching him. One servo remains on the waist while the other strokes the cockpit.

Avoiding those gun turrets since he already knows the outcome, along with being in their dangerous blast zone.

You... A snicker slips out before he gives a serious look. You want to know what arousal feels like? The Combaticon asks. He can comply easily, it's just after witnessing those memories he didn't think Whirl would suggest that. I'll start small so you get a feeling of it. If it gets too weird for you just say so and I'll stop.

Vortex sends sensations through the bond, beginning with a spark slowly racing, a frame warming up, and areas becoming more sensitive. A familiar start to how he feels, along with his rotors happily flickering, wanting attention in any way possible. Touching is his favorite, exactly how his servos roamed Whirl's frame, getting into every nook and cranny to rile him up. It sends shivers through his frame and gets very warm to the touch. Demanding more.

Craving to be worked up so that energy starts to burn with desire and the spark racing faster.

How's that feeling so far?

Feeling Vortex coax his field back in finally gives Whirl the push to relax his own, dancing along the edges before fully opening back up- not quite to the intense attack he previously was putting on, but nonetheless it is slowly regaining it's strength. Interest and relief pulse in waves towards the mech, somewhere inbetween an odd prickly feeling of concern when he recieves the data.

Whirl's optic focuses with an instant on to Vortex, a seriousness in that hardened stare where it hadn't been before. A full frame modification- wasn't something unheard of, but back before the War it was hardly a luxury many mechs could afford. He can plainly see it wasn't something issued by the Senate- yet he finds himself needing to doublecheck. Claws gripping just a bit tighter around Vortex's middle, that singular optic moves down a bit closer to the mech.

"You- That memory...That modification was something you decided on yourself, right?" Nobody forced you to change? Was the underlying message that came through their cable connection.

A vent escapes harshly from the inside of Whirl's helmet, rushing over Vortex's face like from a heater. "Oooh, rubbing it in that it's been a while, fragging rude...Hah! You're telling me!" The blue coptermech seems to be trying to remember something, if the rapid cycling of thoughts was anything to go by, before Whirl suddenly closes the distance just enough for his helmprongs to be inches away from Vortex's face- jolts of electricity flickering along his lips that should leave the mech's faceplating buzzing with a pleasant tingle.

"Damn, can't believe that medic was right- never tried that before." He chuckles, surprised himself by the fact he can do that. Whirl pushes over a few memories where he bonks friends of his affectionately with his helmet- so that Vortex's questions don't go unanswered. That's what he'd done so far at least, he hadn't really tried the 'zap-kissing', much too bothered with the concern he could hurt the other. With Vortex being as tough as he was, he figured the mech could handle it.

To get a bit more comfortable, Whirl leans back until his backside hits the seating, pulling Vortex with him, who's still pressed against him chassis to chassis. If that means the teal combaticon ends up straddling him, so be it.

"How was that? Is that what you wanted?" He asked then, a mischievous glint in his now slanted optic. "Or would you rather find out how a headbutt from me feels like?"

Much better, he can hold Vortex as close as he wants without needing to keep his crouched position for however long they're chatting and connected to eachother. While he no longer is towering over the mech, he at least can get a better look of the other's face.

The questions amuse him just a bit, for which reasons, Vortex might find out sooner or later. He has no qualms with answering them either, showing just a few seconds from a couple of memories- he'd tried interfacing not once, but a total of three times with different mechs before he finally decided he didn't like it- Vortex also getting only a faint glimpse of the nauseating feeling alonside the enthusiasm. It really did make him feel sick to his tanks each and every time, but since he's feeling nice, he won't give the teal mech the entire intensity of his feelings, just enough to clue him in.

Bright, fresh amusement pulsed over their connection, Whirl cackling aloud as well. "Mech you're asking me slag I've never thought of- frag if I know where my junk ended, probably on some sorry mech who's been long dead on the battle field." Dark humor at it's finest.

His claws have started to wander down to Vortex's hips and thighs, squeezing and pulling at plating here and there, stopping to rest at his final question. He doesn't really have the right words to formulate them, so instead he answers over their connection, this time giving him a clear and authentic datapackage of a few of their fights, always layered with excitement, joy, respect, manic glee at the violence and fun as well as appreciation for the mech's looks- arousal though, was not among them, not even in the previous memories of when he interfaced.

I don't know, what does arousal feel like- can you show me?

#polyhexianchicken

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green-kat331 · 3 years ago

Text

Sketch (Ghost x Artist!Reader)

(I have no idea what Call of Duty is about so if something doesn't make sense in game I'm sorry DX)

Putting your life in danger is damn near constant.

Adrenaline rushing through your veins is like 2nd nature, so relaxation is a rarity. Some would say it's a scarce treasure.

So when those few hours do come, many from the 141 don't have a single clue what to spend their free time doing. some spend it sitting around playing cards, writing, sleeping, or setting up their gear.

over your years with the 141, you had time to develop a hobby, Sketching. you sketch everything on anything even on missions you take a moment to pull out your sketchpad and doodle whatever you see whether that be the location, fellow teammates, maps, or just random stuff. it's become a way of clearing your head and relaxing before having to live through another adrenaline rush.

Luckily this isn't one of those days, today was a break and your partners were scattered around the base, invested in their own ways of passing the time. you walked around, sketchbook and pencil in gloved hands searching for a place to sit and draw. finally picking a spot with a good view and lighting you begin sketching the scenery outside the window and once you were satisfied with the result you turn the page.

you take a moment to observe the people around you, some are playing cards others are reading in their uncomfortable seats. Soap was over with Ghost, writing something to himself. The masked man on the other hand was cleaning up a few of his knives and other weaponry.

You always admired Ghost from a distance he was big, strong, and intimidating, yet he had an air around him that kept teammates comfortable obviously not too comfortable but enough so they don't have to keep an eye on him 24/7 out of fear. you were very intrigued by the large man having the privilege to fight alongside him. He was gruff and stern but you could've sworn you heard him sharing jokes with soap over the transmitter. not to mention the delightful short conversations you had with him in far and few occasions, which consists of you asking him questions and him giving a 'yeah' 'yes' and/or 'sure' but of course his willingness to stand in front of you when gunfires roared spoke louder than any words could.

Ghost is the silent type and he works alone, but he never forgets about his comrades.

You readjusted your seating and gazed at the large man. guiding your pencil across the paper occasionally glancing up at him as your reference and also using your memories to add more details. you completely zoned out when drawing him.

Adding the folds to his uniform with his sleeves rolled up and pencil strokes toning his muscular arms and tattoos, his pose showed off his arms and stature, feeling a presence beside you you glanced up to see one of your partners standing in front of you hovering over to see the drawing he silently gave you a thumbs up in support of the piece, you gave one back then went back to your piece. luckily, you didn't finish the top part so he didn't know who the drawing was dedicated to.

you completed the rest of his uniform, then moved towards his head. line after line of his iconic mask forming the skull shape, you paid mind to put in as much detail as you could into the mask, as most would say it's the most recognizable part of him, the cracks and specks of dirt covering the top. quickly you glanced up to take another peak of your muse. To your surprise, he had also caught your eyes. even through the shadow of the skull, his eyes were piercing and deep showing emotions his face didn't. quickly averting your gaze you see the person from before looming around ghost and soap debating whether to sit down or not.

you looked back at the man and he was still staring in your direction, his eyes were as intense as always, if you were any other person you would hate to know the reason he was suddenly very interested in you, but instead of being scared or questioning him you gave a slight wave from the top of your sketchbook he lifted his fingers from the table in affirmation as a subtle wave back. the interaction was brief yet you felt strangely uplifted. You made a note that Ghost will have to secretly be your subject of artistic expression more often in future events.

You break eye contact with the masked man to add some touches to your drawing, zoning out completely yet again. You unknowingly just got what you needed to complete the pencil sketch.

His eyes, eyes that showed so much concealed emotion they were sharp with black irises or were they brown? He was too far to really tell.

You use your finger to rub in some spots you want shaded.

You sign the page at the edge of the paper and when you held the book out to gaze at your work you also looked back towards where ghost is seated.

But he wasn't there anymore.

a breath forced your head in the other direction, you found yourself face to face with Ghost's mask. His tall figure loomed over you and he stared at the page containing the pencil sketch of himself.

You felt a hint of embarrassment when his eyes shifted over toward you.

"This the reason ya been sparin' glances at me?" He asks sternly. At this moment you had no clue how he would react to being drawn, maybe he thinks it's an invasion of privacy or he'll think your creepy for paying so much attention to him, lying won't do you much good though.

"yes sir"

With your response he turns and walks away, no harsh words, his eyes didn't glare at you. He just turned and walked away. Soap stuck around briefly giving you a compliment on the detail work as well as recommending a few more details to add. He was the closest person to the masked man after all, so the tip helped make the piece perfect. Once complete, you closed the book and got up to get busy.

---

Over the passing days your relationship with Ghost stayed more or less the same, making him your muse didn't seem to weird him out from what you could tell, in fact Ghost seemed to become more and more tempting to draw again. For some reason whenever you looked at him he was posed still. more and more times you catch Ghost looking cool and collected while standing perfectly like a statue.

Unknown to you, this was completely on purpose. Being drawn seemed to secretly flatter the big man. He couldn't help but make himself more and more artistically capturable.

#cod modern warfare #codmw #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty ghost #call of duty #simon ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

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babyspacebatclone · 2 years ago

Text

I’ve been wanting to talk about the WebToon “My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me” and why it’s one of my absolute favorite stories just about ever, but haven’t had enough mental presence to go into it all.

(Warning: Romance comic, but amazing slow burn marriage of convenience between two traumatized individuals that is done exceptionally well, and even though you want both sides to spit stuff out you completely empathize with why they’re being respectful and/or still not in a position to recognize they’re falling in love)

But the most recent free episode!!!

🤩🤩🤩

It’s just a small thing, and I can’t even discuss it beyond broad strokes because it involves just about every single spoiler for the metaplot.

But! But!!!!

One thing I love the most about this series is that everyone in it is intelligent.

And not the “good at math smarty smart” kind.

This is not a series where the main character has to do everything because people are chained to their idiot balls.

I’ll say there is a curse involved, and the MC initially is like “Ok, time to do some research on this mystery!”

And then is introduced to the members of the afflicted family who have dedicated their lives to that single thing, becoming doctors in order to treat and research the curse, and the MC is just “Oh, right, they’d have already tried.”

There’s been a theory in the back of my head, never actually mentioned aloud in the series but pretty obvious (in the best way!) given the mechanics of the curse and a recent evolution of it.

In this episode, the female MC hesitantly goes up to her “marriage of convenience” husband and merely suggests this particular theory as he is the one in a position to ask questions…

Well, “suggests,” she brings up the relevant antagonist…

And he calmly goes over all the research he has already done into the matter, evidence for and against, pointing out the things she’s previously brought up that lead him to suspect things and it’s just…

They’re so smart!! They’re so proactive!!!!

The only thing that’s kept me from gushing earlier is a recent revelation that a major character has suffered sexual trauma in the past.

So please, if respectful depictions of “someone was drugged and put into a traumatizing situation in order to try and force them into marriage” is something you can’t deal with, please know this WebToon is respectful about it but it is a huge part of a character’s backstory and, sadly, the current plot.

If you can handle that, though???

This WebToon is a must read.

Even if you’re not into slow burn romances, even if you think all cishet romances are boring and pointless (which is wrong, btw, from my pan perspective).

The episodic formula sadly seemed to push the earliest episodes into a very rushed pace in order to lay enough plot points to get readers interested.

But once the marriage of convenience happens, this is a masterclass in writing.

On how to make empathetic, relatable characters who make decisions that make sense.

Bad decisions because of believable circumstances, good decisions based upon their own strengths.

In how to integrate clues to a metaplot through the narrative, and also have the characters react naturally to them.

The visual storytelling is also just so so good, you can tell so much about what the characters outside the mc are thinking!

If you haven’t yet and WebToon stuff is your thing, read this series!!!

#my in laws are obsessed with me #webtoon #seriously #saturday night is a highlight of my week #because i love this series so much #slow burn romance #romance webtoon

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years ago

Note

I come for an ask about this brainrot. *offers you a box* wherein Foul Legacy and Childe exist separately. But this time human Childe turned into Foxtaglia after he drinks one of your potions.

The reader is an alchemist, much like Albedo - actually is Albedo's competition. The reader is the best student alchemist in Sumeru, just one paper shy from graduation. The reader traveled to Liyue to study about the Adepti (specifically their transformation powers in historical text) and met Childe. The pair hit it off. On one occasion, Childe transformed to Foul Legacy and the reader witnessed this. Given the inquisitive nature of the reader's personality, questions were bound to be asked. Soon, the reader gets a breakthrough: a potion to allow the reader to transform for a brief period of time. A batch of antidote was even prepared in case things get messy.

On the day of the experiment, the reader was waiting for Childe to finish prepping for work. He had donned his signature jacket and fixed the red mask on the side of his head. Upon noticing the reader's barely concealed excitement, he sat beside the reader. The reader then explains that today was the day for the potion trial. *insert slew of intellectual and passionate explanation* Childe nods affectionately, knowing how smart his s/o was. He suddenly felt parched and reached for the glass of water on the table and gulped it all.

"Hmm? Why did you stop, love? I was listening-"

He turned to you and came face to face with your surprised face.

"Ajax! You drank the potion!"

"what potion? That was just wa-" he felt heat in ripping through his limbs. "i feel weird." He looked back at you with a stunned, worried expression.

The force of the transformation made him lose balance for a second, his arms accidentally topping over the batch of antidote you made. Just as his body was falling over - it turned into a puff of clouds - and out emerged a fox (Foxtaglia) midair. He leaped gracefully onto the chair, slowly looked over himself while going in a circle. A whining sound came out of him. Then he jumped into your arms, face burying against your neck.

Your hand came to settle on his head and you just began stroking him. A little giggle escaped you at his current state of undeniable cuteness.

"Jax, you didn't have to take the potion for me-"

Foxtaglia whined at your teasing.

"But you're too adorable right now."

You picked him up and looked at his furry face. You kissed his cheek softly.

"Still handsome whatever form you take. I wonder if you could use Foul Legacy in this state. That would make for a great research material but unfortunate I can't write about it."

A small yip came from him and his fur began puffing up as he prepared to turn Foul Legacy.

-Macchiato

*EATS THIS IN ONE BITE* Macchiato, you always give me such interesting brainrot <33 and i have just the idea for this one :))

there's another puff of clouds- much larger this time- and Foxtaglia yelps in surprise and leaps back into your arms, unchanged except for his fur poofed up in fear. you blink in confusion but pat his head nonetheless, wondering what in the world could've shaken him in so badly in those few seconds before turning your attention back to the cloud of smoke

the dust settles and reveals a very confused, very real Foul Legacy, and suddenly Foxtaglia's reactions makes perfect sense because if you weren't so desensitized to shock due to some the stuff that happens regularly at the Akademiya, you would've yelped too. but at the moment, it seems that Foul Legacy is more scared of the situation than you are, and you manage to slowly calm him down with gentle shushes and whispers. he's not used to being apart from Childe for very long, but the potion unfortunately made Childe's current body unable to bear the stress of the transformation, so now Foul Legacy's stuck outside for who knows how long

at least you're here, though, and Foul Legacy's quick to curl up beside you, scrunching his legs in to seem smaller and nudging your hand until you start petting him. your other hand continues to rub between Foxtaglia's ears, who's seemingly gotten over his initial scare and is now intensely staring Foul Legacy down. Foul Legacy lets out a whimper and hides his face behind your shoulder, and you gently flick one of Foxtaglia's ears with a small frown

"Behave yourself, he's more scared than you are"

Foxtaglia huffs, curling into a fluffy ball to pout, and you scoop him off your shoulder and set him down, intent on grabbing the antidote, ignoring the chorus of squeaks and whimpers from Foxtaglia and Foul Legacy. you turn back and beckon Foxtaglia onto your lap, tilting his fuzzy head back so he swallows the probably nasty-tasting antidote. with a third puff of clouds Childe is sitting on your lap, human again, and wraps his arms around your neck with a happy hum now that the issue is finally resolved. it was interesting, but let's never do that again, yeah? the potions tasted truly revolting. but you clear your throat and poke him awake, your other hand stretched to your side, and Childe turns to see your fingers buried in Foul Legacy's hair, the Abyssal beast melting and purring under your touch

Foul Legacy... didn't return to Childe when he turned back into a human. and neither of you are sure if he even can

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anonnikulaphon · 9 months ago

Text

The ride to the venue was spent in relative silence, with Anon still seething quietly. The space between them was only one seat, but it felt like it stretched for miles. The night they had spent together had been forgotten by Red, who didn't remember a thing - but Non remembered. How could he forget? The way Red held him down, licking his neck and shoulder, sliding his hand into Non's pants and stroking him in a teasing manner that felt so good. And then the elevator, with Red fucking Non's thighs, with the heir pressed against the wall, his body so hot and warm and smelling like the two of them...

It hurt Non that Red didn't remember. That he didn't care about him after the night they shared. Even worse, Non didn't have any evidence of what transpired between the two of them - the video from the elevator had disappeared when he had gone down to the tech room to get it. The staff told him it must have been deleted, and while Non was upset about it... maybe it was for the best. If it was gone so easily, then maybe Non could forget easily too, to spare his aching heart...

They reached the venue and exited the car, with Non telling his driver he'd call him when they were done.

"Let's get this over with then," Non mumbled to himself as he and Red walked inside. And like a switch, the second the wedding planner entered, Non's face brightened in a smile and it was time for him to act.

The venue was lovely, honestly. It was one his grandfather suggested, and his grandfather had excellent taste. That's where Non got it from, anyway. And while Red wasn't interested, he didn't seem to be giving the staff or the wedding planner a reason to suspect that they actually were at each other's throats. Non took it easy on Red, if only because when the press came, he knew it was going to be hard - but still sweetly called him Phi, just like he had the night they were together, even if Red didn't remember. And Non was genuinely interested in the wedding planning, he liked that sort of stuff; checking out the seating arrangements and the additional decorations and picking out the menu. It managed to distract him from how upset he was that Red wasn't sharing in the same kind of enthusiasm.

After a good hour and a half, Non was finalising matters with the staff when his fiancée drew his attention to the front of the venue. The press were there, reporters with cameras, ready to swamp the couple at the front.

"Ah, how did they find out we were here?" Non frowned. He turned to the staff, an eyebrow raised, the question implied.

"O-Oh khun! I can assure you it wasn't us, we kept everything private as you requested!" The wedding planner said nervously.

Red asked if there was another way out, almost putting a wrench in Non's plans to be publicly photographed with his fiancée, but thankfully the staff member shook their head.

"Sorry khun, the way out through the back leads to the carpark, which is locked right now. We don't have the key, only security does. We can only exit through the front at this time."

"Seriously?" Non sighed almost dramatically, hiding the fact that he wanted to smile very well. Red was doing his best to try and get them to avoid going out the front - he even called him babe, lord he must be desperate!! - but it looked like he was fighting a losing battle.

"I don't want to talk to the press right now, no," Non told Red, his eyebrows creased as if unhappy with the situation. "But it doesn't look like we have a choice... We're just going to have to put up with it for a bit longer, P'Red..." Non said, the double meaning only known to the two of them. "It's okay babe, if you don't want to talk I can do it all myself. You can just stand there and hold my arm for support, okay?"

The wedding planner and the staff practically swooned at Non's words. Non dismissed them, saying he'd get in touch, leaving himself and Red alone. His face was a mask of disinterest as he stared at his fiancée, internally delighted that he was making Red uncomfortable as revenge for being with another man right before their meeting. "Well, can I trust you not to ruin this for us? We've come this far..."

"God, you're really thick, you know that?" Anon rolled his eyes at Red as he followed the other who gathered his things. "I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not jealous of you. I'm thinking about our families and their future" He said. Anon just couldn't stop his verbal attacks on Red, even if he wanted to. Thinking about how close Red and Sing had been was hurting him so much; he didn't know their history, if it was similar to himself and P'Boon, but Red had referred to Sing as his boyfriend which made his feelings that much worse. He wanted to shout, grab Red by the shoulders and shake the stupidity out of his brain; but he couldn't. He couldn't show that he cared in that way, it would ruin everything Non has been trying to build. He needed Red to believe his story, that the reason he was upset was about their reputations.

Non resented when Red accused him of having turned to P'Dan to get him to accompany him on the wedding plans. He hadn't asked P'Dan for a thing - the older Sangchareon just knew what had to be done when it came to these sorts of issues. Honestly, there would have been less problems if Non and P'Dan had been the couple to tie their two families together - but Non didn't want P'Dan. He wanted Red. He only ever wanted Red.

Non wanted clarify this, and also to tell Red to fuck off in a similar vein, confused now that Red had switched from the term 'boyfriend' to 'friend' when referring to Sing - but something Red said had the words caught in his throat.

"I have needs and wants. I'm not gonna live like a celibate hermit, if that's what you're hoping."

Red... had Red already decided, then? That he would never sleep with Non again? Not like he remembered their first time, but... was he expecting to marry Non and then sleep with other people before even thinking about him?

And Non knows that he's told Red he doesn't want to sleep with him either, but that was a lie. He was hoping... well, that eventually it would be as though they both had their minds changed. Naturally.

"...Whatever. Are you ready to go?" Non asked quietly, seething in anger. "This wedding venue isn't going to check itself out."

He passed by Red, his head up in the air as if confident, when really he wanted to scream. Red didn't want him in any way. Not as a lover, not as a friend, not as a sexual partner - nothing. Non hated that Red had made his mind up about him already, hated that his relationship with Sing was ambiguous, hated that Red hated him.

God, why had he fallen for such a fucking asshole?

Exiting the studio, Non nodded at his driver, who opened the back-seat for him. He slid in first, waiting for Red to join. There was space between them, this time - not like the night of their date at all. And if the driver noticed, he didn't say anything as he got into the front seat and started off for the venue.

Non didn't talk to Red the entire ride. Instead, he spent it on his phone, pointedly refusing to make eye contact, coming off as bored by this whole ordeal. In reality, he was secretly texting his PR team. Red was going to suffer for treating him like this, and Non was going to force him into a situation where they had to be close in order to survive.

In about half an hour, we'll be at Vivacé Sukhumvit 74. Please inform our contacts in the media. Withhold that this request came from me.

Non quickly sent the text, switching to another app on his phone to pass the time. He wasn't going to sit here and act like a love-struck, jealous boy over a man who wasn't going to give him the time of day - he'd do it in public, when the cameras were flashing, where Red had nowhere to hide.

If Red wasn't going to love him naturally, Non was going to force it.

#red005 #non is a master manipulator here 👀

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