#— ⟢ half god / half hell ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ VISUALS.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi nina!! can we plz see some of the char sheet youre doing?

AWWWW!!!! this is so sweet, omg. ;-; <3

i fucking LOVE character sheets sm; it is a relic from when i first broke into writing online and used to tumblr rpg ( cringe ). i just feel like they really help you see and understand your characters and figure out what they look like, how they act, what their motivations are, etc.

but yes!!!! i spend a lot of time on them and i haven't had a lot of time...recently, so i haven't been able to work on the ones i have for The Nasty Nina Boys From ( Fine As ) Hell, but you can have this little section i started on appearance in the ravenstan one ( he has been on my mind a lot lately, i srsly love him so much, he's my baby )

i'll drop it under the cut for you <3

-uncle nina, tumblr rpg survivor, char sheet queena

[humanimalgam]

i truly can't judge anyone for being attracted to any character, no matter how strange bc my gwen sleeveless tag exists. not gonna start throwing bricks in glass houses, not this time

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

GUINEA PIG ───

jonathan crane ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I think we most fully understood each other when once I tried to kill him with a kitchen knife.” — ‘South and West’, Joan Didion

pairing. switch!jonathan crane x professor!reader

summary. you and your dear friend, jonathan crane, have an odd relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. one day, you experiment your aphrodisiac on him.

warnings. swearing, use of aphrodisiac & fear toxin, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, mention of death, murder, drugs, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, face fucking, dubcon(?) SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. the enemies to friends to fucking pipeline is sooo real and i love it. BTW! this is really self indulgent and again, i’m a beginner to writing smut so pls don’t judge😭 the beginning is also oddly plotty, so i apologize for that.

You and your colleague, Jonathan Crane, have a harmonious, albeit slightly sick and twisted, relationship. 

Your repertoires, opposite in every way, complete one another like you were made to match. You are messy, frenzied, intimate; he is neat, calculated, distant. He is impatient, histrionic, stubborn. You are tolerant, deadpan, submissive. 

This is an odd, good-cop bad-cop dynamic you’ve built, but it works. Your traits uphold the order you’ve built around yourselves; you allow each other to function. 

Who ever said something so codependent, so parasitic, would fall apart? That it was dangerous, destructive? Everyone, but in your case, it has been anything but. 

These are the simple rules of your relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. This partnership came to bloom when, after years of competing to be the “better” psychology professor at Gotham University, he sent you a gift that sprayed with you with fear toxin, and you baked him a cake that knocked him out for 24 hours following, heart rate so low he could’ve been mistaken as dead. 

“Fucking - hell,” You murmured under your breath, stumbling halfway across Gotham City to locate Crane’s absurdly lavish condo in the Diamond District, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

You were being visually assaulted by dozens of images, all your phobias no matter big or small, dancing across your senses. Spiders crawled all over your body, you saw yourself about to step off a steep, snowy cliff, you felt yourself suffocate as you were buried to death in a casket. It was utter torture, and you would have to endure it until you found Crane. 

You must’ve looked like one of those tweaking drug addicts from down in the Narrows, shivering, sweating, and rubbing all over your body to remove some of the “spiders” taking over your body. The terror was settling into you, into your spine like a terribly malignant disease. 

At last, you found the apartment building, blearily snuck in behind a drunk couple, and scanned the mail boxes until you found J. CRANE: 525. 

You headed up the elevator, grasping at the walls for dear life, feeling that growing, unmistakable sense of dread start to take over your mind. You felt like you were going mad, now, not just afflicted with something that made you look like it. 

When you finally got to his door, it was left open a crack, and you welcomed the small mercy of Crane’s overarching narcissism: he didn’t lock his door, often, because most days he felt more invincible than fucking god. 

“Crane!” You shouted, clutching at your head and staggering into his large apartment. “Crane!” you repeated, this time more desperate, more fearful than anything. 

However, your deepest fear, at the moment, had come true. You stepped into his kitchen, and found the man laying on the floor unresponsive. 

“Fuck me,” you cursed. You’d sent the man home with the cake twelve hours ago, when he took the half-day off from GSU, and you came home from your after-class tutoring hours just moments ago. 

You’d opened the mystery package on your front porch promptly, and you found yourself having been gassed with a compound that made you see every little thing you were afraid of. Immediately, you’d known it was Crane; the man’s pet specialty was fear. 

As for you, you wanted your… gift, to serve a reminder to him that he should not overstep your boundaries, your territory, as the psychology professor who was there first. If knocking him out was a little bit mad, he was bordering insanity for the toxin he poisoned you with. 

Even so, your threat was an empty one. You weren’t counting on the man to even eat the cake - hell, you’d never seen the man consume anything but straight black coffee. 

You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know now, and laid there on the couch of his apartment, waiting for the twelve hours to be over. Waiting for Crane, the fucking madman, to wake the hell up, blaming him for the predicament despite your very obvious involvement in it.

You breathed in and out, harried and rapid fire as you tried to focus, tried to block out the horrific things you were seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting. 

(Your eyes are swarmed, viscerally, by a grotesque hallucination of your family burning to death; you hear them cry out, voices interrupted when they’re fire gets to their lungs; you smell their death, the smell of flesh burning, how the smoke chokes you — you taste their blood on your tongue, how tender a raging fire makes charred flesh. 

Tender, you think on your choice of words again, and almost throw up.

What have you done, you think, and what is going through that fucked up head of yours, Crane?)

You tried to ground yourself, tether your lost mind back to Earth. You’re sitting in a field in Northwestern Ireland, you said to yourself, inhaling. Up ahead is the beach; water is crashing on the rocks. You exhaled, the wind tastes like salt, and it is just you and I, here together. It is only I and you, here, together. 

Like so, 12 hours passed. Not so much passed — that word gave the connotation the hours slipped past you, the way a peaceful stream of water does; no, more accurately, it dragged by, like when an arm slips out of the ambulance cot on its way to the emergency vehicle, and drags on the concrete. The EMT’s don’t notice what’s making their trip so hard, so slow, until the hand is rubbed raw and bloody. 

You repeated that mantra so many times you were starting to get queasy when you thought the words “you’re sitting in a field..” but nonetheless, the string of words kept you sane. 

Sane enough, at least - you weren’t sure you’d be the same blissful person you were yesterday. Sure, you were always a little bit… unorthodox? Petty? Competitive enough to bake so many drugs into a cake your opposing professor knocks out? 

But, with this — this being drugged by Crane — made you feel a piece of yourself break away. There would be no more of your life lived without knowing how fearful, well, fear, is. It's like discovering the Boogeyman and never being able to stop checking under your bed; the paranoia moves into your head and never leaves. 

Crane began stirring, and your eyes opened as soon as you heard the noise. Surprisingly enough, however, you were no longer being hammered with the hallucinations that had been distressing you just half a day ago. 

Had it been the mantra? The near-prayer you now swore was etched on your heart? 

“Fucking…” Crane said, getting up off the floor. He was clutching his head, eyes squinted, body hunched and tense. Looks like spending half a day on the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but you didn’t give a fuck — atleast he was sleeping. If you had to be mentally destroyed by his toxin, you’d best believe you were taking the couch. 

“Why - why are you here? What the hell did you do to me?” He said after noticing you, voice raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in a while, after all. 

“I could say the fucking same for you,” You muttered, giving him a pointed look. “You - what the fuck did you spray me with?”

Immediately, a twisted grin was bared on Crane’s lips, despite his fatigued demeanor. “Did you like it? My fear-toxin,” he preened, like the winning kid at a school science fair.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could control your tendencies, you’d swung back and then socked him straight in the face. 

Crane double-backed, looking terribly affronted, as if he hadn’t sent you the gas knowing how it would affect you. “Ow,” is all he said, face contorting oddly around the pain. 

“Yeah, “ow”. Fuck you, Crane.”

Crane raised a brow. “You’re acting like you didn’t feed me a poisoned cake!” He said incredulously.

“It wasn’t that poisoned,” you bit out, teeth gritted. “Not so poisoned I was hallucinating my family dying for twelve hours straight.”

“Ah, thanatophobia, not really one of my favourites—“ Crane started, like he was losing himself in a romantic daydream, before snapping back to reality. “Did you just say twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours for me. Twenty-four for you.” You said, reveling in how panicked he looked. 

“I — that’s long enough for me to be killed a hundred times over,” he mumbled under his breath. “What the fuck did you put in that cake?”

“I never expected you to eat it, Crane. You’re fucking skin and bones, I thought you’d just throw it out.”

“What did you put in the cake?” he repeated. 

“Ugh,” you sunk into the couch, “some amytal, zolpidem. Some melatonin. I didn’t measure, okay, and again, I wasn’t counting on you eating it.” You didn’t know why you had this urging feeling to respond to him, to humor his jabs, his dumb fucking theatrics, but you did anyway. 

“Some amytal? Some zolpidem? Some melatonin? Jesus fucking christ - is that what you wanted? To kill me?” He was leaning down, face inches away from yours now. 

You pushed him away, disgust on your features clear as day. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some sociopathic fear-freak like you, Crane. I don’t mix compounds in my creepy little office with the thought of drugging out my fellow professor in mind. It was just an empty threat.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “Mixing barbiturates and medications into a cake sounds like an empty threat to you?”

“You know what?” You said brightly, getting up off the couch, “I don’t have to argue with you. I came to get my cure, woke up having cured myself.” Then, you burst out the door, fury rolling off you in waves, and you left.

There was something about the incident, however, that seemed to intrigue Crane to no end. Soon enough, he began entering your office during your breaks, asking to have a chat. Or, he’d walk in during your lessons, forcing you two in the hall alone. Sometimes, he’d even wait for you after school, dozing off in front of your classroom and waiting for you to exit your office. 

You couldn’t tell what was making Crane so interested, but he was hanging off you and your every word like some lovesick puppy.

You, on the other hand, also couldn’t get Crane out of your head. Certainly not for some weird, fucked up reason like his, but because of what he had created. A lot of people doubted his intelligence, mostly because of his obsession on things nobody really cared about, but that obsession made way to the destructive fear-toxin you’d inhaled, and it was seriously unlike anything you’d ever experienced, hell, even read about. It was a brand new creation, and downright deadly. 

Your interest in the man was more so on… keeping him in check. As rivals did. But his was on how you’d breezed past the effects of his toxin in just twelve hours. He’s expected you to go half mad, honestly. Your threat was empty… his was, decidedly, not. 

By the end of the next week following the incident, you two began eating lunch together, asking for joint classes, and spending nights over at each other's places. Not in that way, of course — your way was like a group of scientists having a forever eureka, because your minds fit like perfect puzzle pieces. 

Your intrigue had met his intrigue, and it felt natural, coming to a united front like that. You found you had more in common than you thought, something you should’ve found out about a long time ago, 3 ½ years kind of long time ago. Apart, you two were volatile; angry, spewing threats, attempting murder on the other. Together, however, you were absolute perfection: productive, well-mannered, motivated. 

Now, fast-forward coming on two years since the incident. You and Crane - now, Jonathan, have been inseparable since that time. You two were close, closer than siblings or children and parents or couples; you felt like the same person that had been split into two. Being together was the only thing that felt right, being back at the origin, like being at home. 

Fuck’s sakes, you did have the same home — you’d moved in together. Not to his, nor yours, but to a big house you bought on the outskirts of Gotham, with a big yard and an even bigger lab in the basement. It was like a scientist's amusement park. 

Maybe it - this relationship of yours - was codependency. But maybe it was utter genius: your careers had both never seen so many accomplishments until you and Jonathan came together. Partly because you had a greater inspiration when coupled with the other, but, mostly because you had a body to test on during preliminary trials. 

Creating things, like the fear-toxin, required human testing, and finding a way to get that done always slowed Jonathan down. Since finding you, however, it’d been a breeze. 

You offered yourself up readily, given Jonathan would do the same. And, besides, Jonathan had never been worried about you and his toxin very much — after that first time you took the toxin, you could easily find yourself out of its effects. You were the only person he’d ever encountered who could do this, and it was downright fascinating. He wanted to keep you, see how that strong little mind of yours worked overtime to fight his toxin off. 

You, on the other hand, rarely tested anything like that on Jonathan. Your interests lied elsewhere: what smells activate the human mind to recall memories, what are ways to accurately fight off drugs like GHB — all mental stimulation. 

That, however, changed one evening, when you had been brewing up a serum for the past few weeks. You’d gotten to the point in creation where you needed to test on someone, and observe the effects. 

“Jonathan,” you called out, looking down at your notes. The man in question was grading assignments for the psychology class you taught — now, in joint lessons more often than not — sitting at a desk a few metres away from you in the lab. 

“Jonathan!” you repeated louder this time, looking up from your notes. 

“What?” He shouted back, still hunched over on the ungodly amount of assignments he needed to mark. 

“Come here. I need to test something on you.” You said, nonchalant. 

That, however, piqued Jonathan’s interest to no end: you hadn’t tested anything on him in nearly a year. It hurt, a little, to test you endlessly and have nothing to give in return - so this, no matter what it was, Jonathan would take in stride.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, “Okay.” He then dropped all he’d been doing on the desk and made his way over, before sitting in the chair next to you. You made quick work, tying his arms and legs to the chair like he’d done to you so many times before. He watched you work, completely enraptured in how you looked while experimenting. 

“So,” He said, tearing his sticky gaze off of you, “what’re you pumping me full of?”

You sat back in your desk chair and scratched your cheek, a little unsure how to say this. “Well, I created a serum that, once injected, would lower or lose all inhibitions of the victim. They’d be completely malleable, agreeable, if you just, um,” you fanned yourself, feeling a little too close to the man in front of you, room feeling incredibly warm.

“Just what?” He pried, leaning back in his chair. 

You exhaled shakily, “if you just promise to - to provide relief to them. Sexual - relief.”

Jonathan let out an incredulous laugh. “You made a working aphrodisiac?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly — I don’t even know if it works, for sure. If you don’t want to- take it, then you don’t have to.” You offered up weakly. 

“How d’you get it out of the system?” He said instead, ignoring your words and picking up the needle you had ready for him on your worktable, which was filled with a thick, pink liquid. 

You flushed. “You, um, help the victim relieve themselves, until the feeling is gone.” 

Jonathan looked up at you, a sly smirk on his lips. “And you were going to give this to me?” 

You turned away, face red, exasperated. “I told you, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“And let you pleasure some random guy you snatched off the street? No way,” he said, before you heard a familiar prick, small whine leaving Jonathan’s mouth.

You spun back around so fast you thought you got whiplash. “Jonathan, wait—“ you said, alarmed. You were really, seriously, considering not giving the aphrodisiac to him — it would disrupt the careful balance you and he had built over the past years. 

You were afraid that if he took the serum, and let you, for lack of a better word, get him off, you wouldn’t be able to look at him without remembering him needy, hot and bothered, calling your name out like it was the only word he knew. 

He’d done it anyway, though. And now, you both just had to get through this… experiment. 

Quickly, you grabbed your pen and notebook, ready to approach this scenario as detached and clinically as possible, ignoring the pulsing need in your insides as you saw Jonathan’s face slowly contort into a warm, heavy-lidded lustful one. 

“How do you feel, Jonathan?” You said, standing further away from him so he couldn’t so much as feel your body heat on him. 

“I…” Jonathan blinked rapidly, licking his lips, looking you up and down. “Warm. I just feel… warm.” He readjusted in the seat, unable to sit still. “And - kind of, tingly? Like I - well, I don’t know…”

You noted his words, as well as some of your own observations: his pupils were dilated, so much so the crystalline blue of his eyes were merely slivers, his lips were pursed, plump, and he was pink all over; pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck. He was talkative, loose-lipped and a little out of it.

You inhaled, then exhaled, before starting the next phase of the experiment. “Jonathan, how do you feel when I touch you here?” You said, raising the back of your hand to caress his cheek. 

Jonathan was affected almost immediately, eyes shutting tight. “It feels,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch, “ah… nice. Good.”

You nodded, promptly pulling away as soon as he’d finished his sentence. Subject enjoys physical touch. Jonathan then peered up at you, looking slightly… disappointed? 

You shook yourself, getting back on task. “How do you feel now?” You pried, noticing he looked far more affected than before. 

Beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead, making his wavy brown hair stick to his skin. He was breathing heavily, and, when you had touched him, he was extremely warm, like he had a fever. 

“I’m, I…” Jonathan trailed off, eyes shutting, shaking his head. “Mmm… my head feels — fuzzy,” he bit out raspily. 

“Okay. Good. It's exactly as I thought,” you murmured, continuing to scratch down notes. 

You ignored him for a few minutes, writing up a list of side effects and observed results of the aphrodisiac. Then, your gaze drew back to him, who had been focussing intently on you the whole time. 

“Jonathan?” you called out quietly, seeing his dazed expression. “Talk to me.”

Jonathan shuddered, leaning forward in the chair, head hanging low, “My - my body’s, hnngh… it feels— feels weird.” He bit his lip, face screwed up and tense. “I’m warm all over…”

His shoulders were hunched in, and he was trembling. You lifted a hand up to his head, petting him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Ah…” Jonathan squeaked out at your touch, face going slack, “I feel like I need you to - to…” he sighed exasperatedly, “I need you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek conflictedly. On one hand, you needed to finish up a few more tests, meaning Jonathan would be teased - or tortured, depending on how fast the aphrodisiac was affecting him - a little longer. On the other hand, he was already a breathy mess, begging for your touch. For you. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, turning away from the man who’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head at the way you tugged at his locks. “No, no,” you fought your internal struggle. You would not give in to his pleas - you would finish this experiment. 

“Okay. Okay.” you said to no-one but yourself, extracting your hand from his velvet soft hair. “Let’s be professional about this. Jonathan, I’m going to take your clothes off, but you can’t move, and you can’t touch me, okay?”

Jonathan’s breathing became more labored as you spoke, and you swore you could see desperate tears filling his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t touch you? But… but why not?” He was practically whining for you.

“Because, Jonathan, it wouldn’t be beneficial to the experiment.” You didn’t look your partner in the eye, because his complete and total change in behavior had you feeling, quite frankly, as warm as him. 

You continued by undoing the restraints on his arms and legs, and his sharp intakes of breath as your fingers brushed past his skin didn’t slip past you. Not at all. 

Firstly, you undid the man’s white button-up shirt slipping it past his flushed torso. Jonathan’s skin was actually pink and warm all over, and he was breathing heavily now, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Are you okay, Jonathan?” you asked absently, as you began unbuckling his belt and slipping down his fly. 

Jonathan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t answer you, biting down on his lower lip to stop any desperate moans from escaping him. 

You finally finished undressing your partner, then redid his restraints, before you stepped back to see him fully. Jonathan was shivering, faint tear tracks on his pink cheeks, head cocked back. 

“It’s just - one, or two more tests, Jonathan.” You murmured quietly, kneeling down in front of him. 

Your hands pressed flat on his thighs, rubbing him up and down, grazing your fingers lightly on his feverish skin. You had to regularly ground yourself, stop yourself from inching up to the poor, untouched tent in his boxer shorts. 

Above you, you could hear Jonathan let out a low groan, “Ah, hnng— please,” he called out to no-one in particular.

“Does that - feel good, Jonathan?” You ask, getting back up on your feet. His desperate groans were getting to you now, how needy his little keens were. 

“So - good,” he panted. “Your— you, I want— need, I need…” he trailed off, babbling, lost to the pleasure of your touch. 

“Jonathan, if I… touched you more, would you do anything for me?” You said finally. The invention of the aphrodisiac was intended to sway someone's motivations, make them bend to your will. Sure, there was that added sexual aspect, but it was created with less… pleasurable intentions. 

“Anything, anything at all,” he said deliriously, rolling his head around. “Jus’… just need you to- touch me.”

“Would you give yourself fear-toxin, Jonathan?”

“Yes! Yes, just — please… please! Stop asking me— questions… I need you so fucking bad, ah…”

“Jesus,” you said. Your aphrodisiac was stronger than you thought. You were satisfied, however, with the results of it. The first trial was a success, and you saw how you could use this on anyone - even people in particular positions of power, and get them to do your bidding. Quite helpful, indeed. 

Now, you needed to… get Jonathan out of this state. By, ah, relieving him.

You had decided to do this, to test him, so you had to be responsible and help ease him out of this experiment. Quickly, you stripped your own clothing, even your underwear, before undoing the restraints on his arms and legs. 

Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched you undress. “Are you - are you… gonna t—touch me? Now? Please?” He practically begged, almost drooling at the sight of your naked body. 

“Mhm,” you said, a tremble in your voice. “Gon’ help you get out of this.”

Then, you climbed onto Jonathan’s lap, shutting your eyes as you felt his hard cock within his boxer shorts slide between your legs deliciously. 

He let out a guttural groan as your weight pressed down on him, feeling your wetness soak his shorts. That measly piece of fabric was all that was keeping him from entering your plush, velvet folds, and he was going practically insane at the feeling. 

“M’god,” Jonathan whined out, leaning his sweaty head on your shoulder. “Y’feel so, a—ah, good…”

You couldn’t help the breezy laugh that made its way out of you. “I haven’t even touched you yet, Jonathan, and you’re already so worked up,” you whispered in his ear, hot breath fanning on his warm skin.

“P-pleeeease,” He begged, slowly grinding into you. Jonathan was barely coherent, mind just focussed on chasing the release he so desperately needed.

You raised a brow, but complied, slipping your warm hands down his boxer shorts and pulling his thick length out. You pumped him lazy, feeling how he writhed under you, tasteful whimpers slipping out of his mouth. 

After another second of you stroking him lightly, your thumb grazing past the tip and collected a decent amount of precum, he actually did come, wet hot load spurting upwards on his chest and your face. “Ah - hnngh, oh my — oh my god,” he drooled, jutting into your hand. 

It dripped down from your cheek onto your lips, and Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. You swiped a handful of his cream off your face, before covering his still hard, curved cock with it. 

“You’re not done, aren’t you?” You said to him quietly, his hips stuttering as you artfully smeared his come on himself. Jonathan was arching into your touch, completely putty in your hands. 

“Nuh- no, m’still— still need you, need you so bad.” he whimpered shamefully, hands stuck to your waist.

“Look at you go,” you found yourself cooing, dragging a creamy hand down his equally as creamy chest, your fingernails grazing him. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, you lifted yourself up off his lap, and carefully situated your slit on the tip of his head. “Christ,” you called out as you slid down, “you’re fucking big,” 

Inch by inch, you took him, and Jonathan’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, a string of senseless groans and whines leaving his mouth. “Feels so warm, so so warm,” he choked out at last, looking at you adoringly. 

You started to lift out of him, your cunt stinging slightly at the sheer size of his cock, when you felt a heated liquid shoot through you, Jonathan’s knees buckling under your ass. 

He’d come, again, even before you could get started. You shook your head incredulously at the terribly horny man beneath you, eyes glazed over in the pure ecstasy he was feeling. 

“Stop, fucking — coming,” you scolded, bottoming his cock into you once more, “you’re gonna get me so — ah— fucking - pregnant if you keep coming.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said sheepishly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Can’t help it— you feel so — hnngh — feel so good.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, then focussed on getting a good pace of sliding in and out, your hips rolling deeper and deeper into his own. You were bouncing quickly on his cock, dick-riding him like you’d never done before. 

With all other sexual partners you had, they wanted to be all vanilla, always just missionary, going slow until they were close, no sense of creativity or any other wishes that just feeling you. With Jonathan - especially in the state he was in now - you could do whatever you wanted, as long as his cock was in your cunt. 

“Good — god,” you screamed out, when Jonathan suddenly gained control over himself and snapped into you, rough hands pinching the flesh of your hips. He rutted into you, hard and fast, for a moment like that continually, before his control melted once more into nothingness, and all he could do was let you take the reins. 

“Please— how’re you so — ah, how does your pussy feel so good…” he murmured, trailing off into a high-pitched moan when you pulled out, then just as fast sunk down on him. 

Jonathan’s fingers trailed up your body, rubbing at your soft flesh, before they found your breasts, kneading you tenderly. He chanced several licks on both your erect nipples, and you shuddered, tightening around him. Your cunt was sucking him in, devouring his length no matter how big he was, and he could feel how his length was stretching your walls wide open. 

“So fucking big.” You panted, arms wrapping around his neck, “fat fucking cock all needy, just me.”

“Jus’… just for you! All - ah, all for you,” Jonathan repeated with a squeak, lips bitten delicately between his teeth. 

Your hands trailed all over his body, and as the pleasure was getting to you, making your head dizzy and your thoughts foggy, you bounced down on him and your nails scratched up his back, surely leaving small wounds. 

This miniscule amount of pain seemed to amplify Jonathan’s endless pleasure, and you could feel him pumping you full of his come once again, the tip of his dick pressed flush against your cervix. His come made you feel so full, fuller than you already did with his monstrous cock nestled into you, continually rubbing up on the toe-curlingly spongy spot in your cunt every time you pushed him back in. 

“Mmf,” Jonathan groaned, pleasure muffling whatever he was was going to say, “m’gonna… gonna get you pregnant,”

“Yeah?” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut, “Is that what this needy cock wants? To get my wet cunt full and me pregnant?”

“Yes, yes, hnngh, please, wanna come - wanna come more,” Jonathan cried out. 

“‘kay, okay,” you nodded vehemently, “then make this pussy feel good.” 

Then, you slid out with a whimper, two loads worth of come spilling out of your worn-out cunt, turning around so your ass would face him, before you sunk back down on him. You were chasing your own pleasure now, the unmistakable feeling rumbling within your lower stomach. 

Jonathan was completely fucked out, just a shaking, hot and bothered mess on the sticky wooden chair you’d both occupied, but he still welcomed your warm pussy back on him with open arms. Your folds beat any other cunt he’d ever been in, and he knew nothing, not even his own hand, could match up to how addicting you were, how delectably you took him. 

The new angle had you reeling, your hands gripping Jonathan’s thighs for some much-needed support. You were buckling, getting weaker with every bounce, but were still desperate for release. It affected Jonathan too, and he was pressing his face up against your hair, biting down lightly on your shoulder to collect himself despite the earth-shattering pleasure you were inflicting on him. 

Your fleshy cunt met his rock-solid cock every moment perfectly, and soon enough your back was arching, head leaning back on Jonathan’s shoulder. That knot in your stomach was tightening, a fire burning within you and begging you not to stop.

Jonathan’s needy hands were coursing all over your body, rubbing on you in all the right places, and when his calloused fingers began pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples, you saw white. That burning feeling dragged across your entire body, your jaw tensing, and you felt positively fuzzy, pure pleasure destroying all coherent thoughts you’d been having, your mind now focussed on the insane way he made you orgasm. 

There was nothing that could compare to how you felt now, this being the hardest you’d orgasmed in your entire life. There was just something about Jonathan — be it how unbelievably big he was, or perhaps the odd tension that surrounded you two for the past few years — that made this experience ten times, no, a hundred times, better.

It was like his dick had been artfully crafted to stretch you out and stuff you full; that thick cock, made just for you. 

In place of your weakening strength, Jonathan kept his hand tweaking your breast, and his other hand gripped your hip tightly, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. Thus, the pleasure was maximized by his touch, and you rode out your high like that for a few more long moments. 

You stayed there, on his lap panting and drooling, for a few more seconds, before you climbed off of him, grimacing at the loss of his sweet cock in you. 

You stood shakily, feeling his come ooze out of your sticky hole, and you were surprised to see that Jonathan was still hard. He was panting, head leaning against the chair, hands and legs trembling, but his dick could probably still pump out another round of come. 

You did always wondering how he’d taste, and after seeing how long and thick he was, you wanted to know if his dick could make you cry, too. So, you kneeled down on the cold floor, pulling him by the ankles a little further off the chair, so you could get better access to him, and buried your pretty little head between his shaking thighs. 

“What’re you— doing?” Jonathan said blearily, but before he could continue, your soft lips wrapped around him, and your tongue began artfully swiveling his sensitive head.

The loudest moan you’d heard so far was drawn out of Jonathan, and more, similar noises came out of him. It was nonsensical, and unintelligible, but you could tell he was having the time of his life — as if he hadn’t just orgasmed three times prior. 

You started slowly, mouth taking his cock until you felt like you couldn’t anymore, before forcing past that point and making yourself take him to the back of your throat. Tears lined the rims of your eyes, your head swimming from lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to hear him whimper and whine out from how good you were servicing him, his pretty groans reaching your ears like music. 

You pulled his cock out of your mouth when you felt like you were going to pass out, and then you began lapping up at his cock, sucking and curving your tongue around his long length. You sucked him hard and fast, and then, his hands grappled at your hair. 

At this point, you believed the aphrodisiac was wearing off, and Jonathan, now a little more clearheaded, began face fucking you, filling your sweet mouth full with his filthy cock. He couldn’t resist doing so, especially with you looking up at him through your tear-stained lashes, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping his thighs like your life depended on it. 

You gagged on him, several times, but he didn’t care, and with a jolted thrust past your swollen lips, he came, squirting all he had left down your throat. You sucked and swallowed every drop of him into your mouth, loving the taste of his salty liquid. 

Now, you were both fucked out, beyond tired, the strain on your muscles settling in. Your core had been properly exercised, what with how many times you rutted into Jonathan, and he, similarly, had a strained back with how much he arched into your touch, his aphrodisiac-clouded mind wanting nothing more but to be touched by you. 

“Good god, woman,” Jonathan said, collapsing into the wooden chair, which was sticky with sweat, come and your cunt’s soaking wetness. “You could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,”

You panted, dropping down onto the cold floor beneath you and wincing. “We’re — we were, just friends.”

He waved away your words, “We live together, darling. Not quite sure if that's “just” friends.”

You looked up at him, before laughing agreeably. “Felt good though, didn’t it?” A smug grin made its way on your lips, remembering how submissive Jonathan had been, how desperate he’d been just for the slightest bit of touch. 

“Amazing,” he said exasperatedly. “But next time, you’re not topping.”

“Next time, huh?” You said brightly, shakily getting up. Jonathan helped you, both of you limping exhaustedly up the stairs to your actual house, where you really should’ve been fucking, instead of the clinical environment of your large basement lab.

Jonathan’s hands found your ass, pulling you flush against him and kneading the flesh roughly. “Why not? Don’t you wanna know how I fuck?” he whispered suggestively into your ear, nibbling at the lobe. 

“I think, you’ve still got some aphrodisiac in you, Jon.” you said, laughing breezily. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him. 

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move. 

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white. 

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now. 

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace. 

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one. 

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead. 

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[wonysugar]

puff, puff and pass | ot4 aespa

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. high for this — the weeknd

synopsis : your dream blunt rotation, except you’re the blunt.

pairing : yoo jimin, ning yizhuo, aeri uchinaga, kim minjeong x fem!reader

genre : smut, porn without plot (sorry)

tags : high sex, aespa kind of gangbang reader to be quite honest—, objectification, reader is referred to as ‘it’ like once, oral sex, vaginal penetration, joint rolling tutorial included brought to you by jiminjeong xx, i’m joking, don’t do drugs yall

warnings : heavy use of drugs, like, they’re all high as hell help (more specifically marijuana) both fem!reader and aespa are intoxicated in this

word count : 1,4k(??)

a/n : the fact that i was basically finished with writing thisa while ago and the only thing stopping me from posting it was the fuckass moodboard.. AND EVEN THEN IT ISN’T EVEN ALL THAT I HATE ITTFJHHFJEJF anyways, here’s some food MWAHH love you sugarcubes<33

“come on, you’ve been at it for ages— pass it already.” complained ning, her voice all whiny. 

from those words alone, a normal individual would think that the five girls in the room, including you, were doing a blunt rotation of some sort. or perhaps you all were just participating in a chill activity that consisted of passing around an object for entertainment, nothing harmless.. right?

well.. yes! you’d be right in assuming that it was, in fact, a blunt being passed around originally. that is, until the other girls (intoxication clearly having taken over the good parts of their brains) thought it would be a great idea to pass something else, another object, one that’d cure their boredom in the middle of fucking nowhere. 

that said object turned out to be your very own body.

“ohh my god shut up—” was what aeri moaned, sharply inhaling air through her teeth as she fucked her cock deep into your mouth, the tip touching the back of your throat with every thrusting motion she made. you were on all fours in front of her, fitting all of her into your mouth, watching your head bob up and down her long shaft effortlessly as you took all of her rigid length like the good slut you are, it made her lose control of her senses. “fuck y/n i’m so fucking close—“

then, to both you and aeri’s surprise, right as she was about to finish all over your mouth, your hair was suddenly pulled on from behind. “ah-ah, too late, it’s my turn now.” was what you heard ning say from behind you in a singing tone, visualizing the kind of annoying smile she had on her face whilst saying that to aeri. 

you winced at the sharp pain you felt on your scalp from such a tug, which was then immediately replaced by the overwhelming sensation by the feeling of ning’s dick sliding up and down your wet slit, teasing your entrance with her tip. 

in response to having you pulled away from her at the moment of her sweet release, you saw as aeri’s face contorted from one of pleasure to one of frustration very quickly, despite her seemingly sleepy eyes due to the ridiculous amount of cannabis she ingested, and keeps ingesting. “i wasn’t done, asshole.” exclaimed the half-japanese girl, clearly upset that the chance to cum all over your pretty face got taken away from her and delayed for another short period of time.

ning simply laughed at her before swiftly sliding her cock into your wet, wet cunt. you moaned loudly, as being in a situation such as this one while simultaneously being high just made you feel everything way more than you usually would. it was like all five of your senses were invaded with different, filthy things, and all of those things contributed to making you feel so, so good. you felt mindless, only present to please those that were freely using your body.

you loved every single second, as dehumanizing as it was. perhaps that’s what made it so arousing.

“please— i’m doing her a favor. she knows this dick fucks her the best, right, doll?” you looked back at her with hooded eyes, unsure what to respond.

while yes, ning knows how to use her length, you were quite frankly blinded by the drugs at that moment.

all you really wanted was dick, regardless of how you got it.

so, you mindlessly nodded, “stick to jerking off and watching how it’s done, ‘kay?” is what added ning, earning another annoyed groan from the other girl in response, before the latter sat down on the couch before you. with that, each second that passed was an increase in speed for the girl on top of you, your back to her stomach.

“can you guys stop bickering already? it’s like, ruining the vibe.” said what sounded like jimin, her words were slow, clear and enunciated.

that’s when you caught a glance of her and minjeong, sitting on the other corner of the dark room. they, on their side of things, were rolling yet another blunt, minjeong was focused on intricately filling the folded paper with the marijuana whilst jimin held the filter for her, aligning its edges perfectly with the edges of the paper before rolling it, twisting the end of the joint and eventually lighting the latter. 

“and can you roll that shit quicker? it’s getting boring having ning do everything.” snapped back aeri, a bit louder so that the two relevant girls could hear her above the music, clearly annoyed. obviously, ning heard and grinned at her mockingly, earning an eye roll from her.

“we’re working on it, be fucking patient, girl.” replied minjeong.

what differed her ways to handle you and ning’s was mostly the gentleness that was employed with you; aeri was rough, sure, but she also prioritized your comfort above everything else when you were sucking her cock. ning, on the other hand, was fucking you like she had a point to prove, she’d thrust into you in an almost animalistic way, also making sure that she could hear every single dirty noise that came out of your mouth. 

not like that was hard to do anyways, with how loud and shamelessly lewd you were being for her. 

with that being said, you weren’t exactly surprised when you felt her fingers lock your jaw into a tight grip, making you face the couch aeri was sitting on. the chinese girl dug into your skin with her long, pretty acrylic nails, leaving very visible red scratches on your stomach as she got closer and closer to her climax.

“you’re so tight, baby..” said ning with a groan, huffing and puffing into your ear with each pump of her dick into your walls, all of it causing you to moan out incoherent words. “oh fuck, i think i could do you for hours on end—”

when you actually concentrated on the girl in front of you, you noticed how no longer upset she seemed about being denied her orgasm, but more so impatient to have you all to herself again. she watched you attentively as she stroked her own dick, wishing she was the one to stretch your pussy out instead of it being done by the annoying and cocky girl that was behind you, ning. 

those two are very close, so it’s very natural for them to take basically everything as a competition.

then, as if to prevent you from looking anywhere else other than her, aeri quickly stood up in front of you and grabbed ahold of your hair, rougher than usual, before impatiently teasing your already agape mouth with the head of her cock, slapping it against your desperate lips before bucking her hips into your mouth, inserting it effortlessly. ning was still behind you, pounding you just as mercilessly as she’s been doing this entire time.

you came, repeatedly, at that. what else could you have done when you were being fucked stupid by two different dicks at once, both at different speeds and intensities? obviously, it didn’t take long before they came inside of you, too. aeri’s warm juices filled the entirety of your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop of it as she pushed her cock down deeper, while the chinese girl's dick was buried deep into your wet, swollen cunt, the perfect view of your spread ass obviously playing a huge part in her orgasm.

teamwork at its finest! especially when the two other girls are finally walking their way towards you, stumbling in their steps, all giggly and jittery from the weed, clearly excited to make you take a puff out of their freshly rolled and lit-up joint. too fucked out to have at least one remotely coherent thought, you let them ruffle your hair and get a tight grip on it to make you face minjeong’s pale hand, holding the blunt in between her fingertips.

still recovering from aeri’s thick load in your throat, you didn’t even notice how jimin had her phone camera above you, filming you from practically every angle before locking your jaw in a tight grip, laughing and caressing your lips with her thumb.

“come on, pretty slut,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “take a hit.”

and you did, you took multiple, even. you felt yourself lose every ounce of sobriety left in your body with every inhale you took of the joint, if you even had any. so much so that you weren’t even fazed by sometimes having it suddenly replaced by one of the girls’ dicks at times and even forgetting that all of that was getting recorded by jimin. 

once that blunt was finished, they simply thought it’d be funny to have you crawl around on the floor like a desperate little whore that’s trying to get her throat used like it deserves to be, you took them, turn by turn, getting their mixed loads all over your mouth and throat, turn by turn. 

unfortunately for you, you couldn’t remember what it was that happened afterwards, all you know now is that your head hurts like a bitch and that your legs feel like you went to the gym for a week straight with no breaks. 

with that information, it was needless to say that you definitely got passed and used around by the other girls like you wanted for the rest of that long and hazy night.

[wizzard890]

So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings. 

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is. 

Like, let’s go down the list here. 

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals? 

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene? 

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated! 

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible. 

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

[weebsinstash]

Kinda obsessed with the idea of a reader pregnant with Lucifer's kid and just he's really into it and wants to get married while the readers there being like damn I just wanted the bragging rights of saying I fucked the king of hell and now I have to be married to him !?!

Reader: ugh oh my god that dick was so fucking good, thanks Lucifer

Lucifer, currently painting sigils with his own blood on your tummy: oh my god, no, I know, right, it was amazing, I had an amazing time

Reader: hey uhhhhhhh by the way, what are you

Lucifer, taking a break from speaking ancient Latin incantations: oh hey, no don't worry about it it's totally cool I'm just, doing a thing here

Reader watching the very foundation of Hell shake around them like an earthquake as all the candles in the room burn higher and the unseen spirits of the damned sing comgratulatory praises for their dark lord: you know this kiiiiiiiiinda feels like you miiiiiight be doing something kinda sinister and magic-y right now

Lucifer, watching his symbol appear on your belly: whaaaaaaaaat, no, that's crazy! It's just a little.... surprise! Nothing to worry about! So hey also completely unrelated but I kind of need to splash some of this goat's blood on you--

I feel like sleeping or even FLIRTING with Lucifer is the ultimate case of fuck around and find out because at the very least you have an all powerful clingy depressed obsessive boyfriend in THE DEVIL and at his very worst you have you know THE DEVIL, treating you as his equal half, wanting all to bow before you, worship you, erecting churches with stained glass telling the Epic Tale of how you two fell in love, wanting you draped in fineries, at his side at all times, having only the best

I just feel like... he's one of those yandere that really could take you 0 to 100. You fuck the guy ONCE as like a drunken one night stand, a real "fuck it why not maybe it'll be fun" kinda romp, and then he's making plans behind your back about marriage because, well, he just loves you so much already that he can't see doing anything else! 🥰 like can you imagine going from getting cream pied to like only a week later some church is getting constructing with like biblical art of "oh how the king of hell met another and fell in love" and it's foretelling some epic saga that hasn't even. Happened yet. Like imagine the whiplash of finding out the guy you casually fucked is dedicating buildings to. A story of. How he impregnated and married you and you guys "lived happily ever after" and you still barely know him

I like the contrasting options of Lucifer intentionally impregnating you vs unintentionally because THE VISUAL of like. He's just nutted and you're laying there amd he looks down and suddenly there's this little glowing moving picture on your skin of a snake twining around, circling, becoming an apple with a heart or some-- this is a real specific genre of fetish I'm discussing here ok we don't need to like exactly describe whatever magical mark of pregnancy the devil gives you fjdnfjf. But the apple appears and he's blinking at it and, finally, it clicks, and he's all "BABY! B-BABY! IT'S A BABY HHHOHHHHH MY GOD" and he's like EXCITED but also just like. Do you think he'd get a little biblical drooling about 'your womb being blessed' or some shit. Your absolute fucking LUCK OR LACK THEFEOF if Lucifer turned out to ACCIDENTALLY BE CORRECT and you kind of WERE created to be his wife or end up with him, like GOD is up there, "yeah Luci I threw you a bone, enjoy it 👍" like SHIT the one time you ARE cosmically fated to have a mate and it's AFTER YOU DIE? It's also LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR???

I feel like, genuinely the only way Lucifer would mistreat the Reader is completely unintentionally, like he has a bout of depression and neglects you a little, or he becomes socially withdrawn and you think he doesn't like you but really he's just feeling sad or working on something that's really important to him. I mean. This is BESIDES the possibility of confinement but that's for your protection and it's not like you're in PRISON. This guy is clearly packed with goofy loving positive energy. He'll be taking you to the circus and to musicals with his daughter like you've always been a member of the family, getting you your own special throne to sit beside his own. He's having audience with like some wretched soul, there are flames, he's being TERRIFYING, telling them how they've betrayed him and he's going to tear their soul to pieces and sentencs them to eternal suffering, and then he turns to you, "I'm sorry am I making it too hot in here shnookums 🥰 I don't wanna make you and our lil hellion uncomfy 🥰" like.... truly, you got yourself a man that can do both

[lokorum]

latest pages for the comic (i sometimes even manage to not forget to post them on boosty btw skldjflkds) and new character!! visual design is still very much work in process, but i already 10000% surtain on his name (Ketla!) and his place in the flooded world (god's favorite horny clown 🎩🤡🍷) 

also can you imagine i havent realized that i vivec'ed the hell out of his design before like half way into it??? as you can see on his first picture i just dropped drawing that day and spend it by screming kirkbride's name into the skies (shaking my fists too)

[stxrshxpxd]

”that’s my girl” part 7

masterlist

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: smut

prompt: reader manages to stop house from committing his daily dose of malpractice, and distracts him with something else.

“What the hell are you doing?” I interjected, having followed House into the patient’s room and watched him quickly reach for a syringe. I knew what he was doing in fact. He had just come up with a new theory as to why the poor sedated man in front of us was hurtling towards certain death, and House had to wake him to get answers out of him.

“I feel like a chat. I get lonely too sometimes.”

“He’s just had surgery, you can not wake him!”

With that, I grabbed his arm with both my hands just milliseconds before he could stick the needle into the man’s thigh.

“A little pain isn’t gonna kill him,” House argued and stared me down while I kept clinging on to his tense arm.

“You’re right. My bet is he just turns into a giant asshole,” I took a dig at him and he laughed shortly with dark eyes.

“Clever girl.”

“Stupid man,” I countered, grabbing the syringe from his grip and letting go of his arm. He turned to me fully, his smirk fading.

“You’re not waking him.”

“Last time I checked I call the shots.”

“I miss when you used to refuse to talk to patients,” I sighed, taking small steps back to keep the syringe out of his reach.

“I miss when you were just a pretty postgrad trainee who did what I told her to do,” House fired back with a stupidly charming smile and I gave him an eye roll in return.

“He’ll wake up in an hour.”

“We may not have an hour,” he declared back. I knew he was probably right, but I also knew the team had to work together to pull on House’s reins and keep him somewhat within reasonable ethical territory. And I realised I had to do it using my advantages.

“You may not get to sleep with me again if you wake him,” I continued arguing with a cocky smirk of my own, tilting my head as I blinked up at him. House shut up at that and his cold blue eyes scanned my face.

“But, hey, there’s always a hooker available right?”

He scowled and breathed heavily, refusing to say anything for a little while. I had hit a sensitive spot in him. I knew he was completely hooked on me. I wasn’t sure if it went beyond sex, but it clearly meant enough that he would rather pump the brakes on his obsessive puzzle-solving than lose me.

“God, you’re infuriating!” he said in a jokingly exaggerated groan, to steer away from real emotion.

“And you have no morals,” I smiled back viciously. “And yet I’m crazy about you. Count yourself lucky.”

I hooked my hand into the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him with me further away from the patient’s bed, to visually demonstrate my dominance.

“Makes me happy to know you’re so whipped for me. I can make you do anything I want,” I grinned proudly and House smirked back, his eyes half lidded as they gazed down at me.

“All thanks to that nice ass of yours,” he muttered and his face got even closer to mine as he reached down to clasp his fingers around my butt cheek. His breath fell sharply on my face and I squirmed as he smiled wider, smug about winning back his dominance.

“We are with a patient,” I scolded, if scolding could be done under the breath. I didn’t really want him to remove his hand.

“Good thing he’s unconscious,” he joked in a mumble and I laughed softly into the kiss he pressed against my lips.

“For another hour,” I muttered into the kiss and House took that as a prompt to find something to kill the time, backing me into the patient’s bathroom with his hands squeezing my waist.

It wasn’t long before his fingers had undone the button and zipper of my trousers and delved inside them. I swallowed half of my moan and bit down on my lip while my hands interlocked behind his head.

“Uh-uh,” House muttered, shaking his head. “I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”

My breath was already trembling at the feeling of his fingers drawing circles into me, and I nearly shuddered as he mumbled into my ear.

“That’s better,” he whispered with a smile I could just about see out of the corner of my eye as I let my moans spill into his ear.

His other hand was still clinging onto my waist as he held me against the wall. I shoved my hands into the back of his hair and clasped my fingers around his short locks, enjoying his slight groan.

“House,” I whimpered, my legs weakening as his fingers picked up their pace.

“Mm?”

“House,” I whined again and he responded by kissing my neck harshly. The slight sting of my skin trapped between his teeth only added to my pleasure and pushed me over the edge.

“That’s it,” House exhaled encouragingly as my legs nearly gave out, his one hand still keeping me steady by the waist.

My high faded and I regained some composure as I let a few deep breaths pour out of me, onto his shoulder. He stayed close to me for another moment and was in a rare state of silence. No one-liners or clever remarks. I felt a wave of affection come off him. Then he backed away slightly.

“Well, thanks. I’ve got clinic duty,” I shrugged with a playful smile and House protested with a scoff.

“I only came up here to stop my crazy bo-“ I took a beat. “boss, from torturing our patient.”

Patting his chest with one hand and the syringe in my pocket with the other, I turned around and left his quiet smile behind.

[sanflawoah]

Black Myth: Wukong ramblings because I'M GOING INSANE.

FOUR YEARS. I. DID. MY. WAITING. WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO EXPRESS MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GAME.

(Lengthy words and massive spoilers below!)

First minutes into the game I was all chill expecting the opening to be a long prologue cutscene about JTTW, explaining core things you need to understand, a helpful guide for those unfamiliar with the lore beforehand. But NOOOOO....we jump straight ahead fighting ERLANG SHEN AND THE FOUR HEAVENLY KINGS. We're WIDE AWAKE.

About gameplay, the devs stated repeatedly that it's not a souls-like game, and more like a God of War ish. Yet so many still questions whether it's a souls-like and then went into the game just to say "meh not souls-like". Amazing density of head.

I really don't demand much for whatever mechanic they serve, I'm really just here for the monkey smash experience and the childhood nostalgia and the fresh aesthetics.

The character design?? The environment?? The architecture?? The statues?? Soooo beautiful oh my god you really need to stop and admire these things (when you don't have a boss shredding you) up close. Look up their inspirations and concept arts, some statues and buildings exist in real life and it's really mind boggling how they incorporate it into the story. The part where you fight with Yellowbrow at Thunderclap temple, what a creative choice, the idea of "miniature fight" on the temple altar. I'm farming so many screenshots for art references. 10/10 visuals, graphics will definitely fry your PC.

Again with the character designs. I'm really loving the absurd looking bosses one, really fresh take. Then to the celestials and yaoguais, I just..... OH they're ALL hella gorgeous. I've seen some people going "WOULD" towards Wukong or The Destined One and I don't blame you. I've had my fair share of neuron activation moment.

Erlang yoo, I was stunned at first with the way they present his personality during the opening, but turns out we got the reason for it near the ending :"(((. He was helping us all along ughsjsjsjsksdsd. Also, they know EXACTLY what they're doing by casting Andrew Koji as the english VA.

White Clad Noble? Half snake man hissing at you to get off his lawn. I feel kinda bad for him lmao, dude was just minding his business and we go monkey smash all over his place.

Keeper of Flaming Mountain? Neat hat and cool makeup bro, awesome yin yang palette and battle area design. BANGER THEME I'll get to it.

The Third Prince in Pagoda realm prison, why does he looks so good, you encounter this guy in his cell just suffering, and somehow he's still serving looks.

The girlies damn, the spider sisters are gorgeous, and YES even madam violet spider, come look at spider granny serving fashion and arachnophobia.

At first I was scared that they're going to sexualise the hell out of the spider sisters or any of the female characters, since the book itself tells their trait as luring men with their beauty (to be eaten though). But actually?? They're a lot tamer than I expected? I mentally prepared myself for the worst, like racy sexualised outfit and personality, but turns out they're all very normal. Like how you would see Tang dynasty inspired ladies. I braced for GTA or cyberpunk-like explicitness but thank god it's not the case, not at all.

Rakshasi and Pingping having the relatively "sexy" look, but then both of them had a moment where they're not actually their real selves, but rather a transformation of Zhu Bajie and Red Boy LMAO. Funny boner killer.

Talk about this boi, our Destined One. To be honest I was kinda disappointed when I found out he doesn't speak at all. Banters, insults, cackles, anything you would expect a Wukong-like personality, he doesn't have it.

I tried to think of a reason, and I think the dev's choice of making The Destined One silent kinda has a root to it. Our MC is NOT the Wukong himself, we are literally just some monke, and we're tasked to gather the six relics Wukong had scattered by retracing his journey. Also, I think it's a funny thought that probably it's just their personality difference, Wukong the loud, Destined One the quiet. Wukong sometimes does chaos for shits and giggles, our Destined One does chaos because we have to.

My theory: our Destined One is just non-verbal! Zhu Bajie even acknowledged it. When we first met him after defeating Kang-Jin Loong, he bantered "A furry coat and a pinched face, luck's all you've got", and he looked confused when we don't say anything back because Wukong would've returned the favour, "Great, another mute. Let's not dally". So the game actually acknowledges it, it's not like they intentionally muted us and have the NPCs acting as if we talk back to them all the time.

Non-verbal and asexual coded? I'll take it.

THE ANIMATED CUTSCENES??? OH MY GODDD. Impossible to put ALL the epic frames here. I really don't expect this from a game at all, real time cutscenes are great, but a WHOLE 2D AND STOP MOTION ANIMATED SCENE?? No wonder the full development took SIX years. You could pause the scenes at any frame and it's worthy of analysis.

The stop motion one really surprised me, how are they that dedicated. The plot as well, it started out romantic and escalated into HORROR real quick. Batshit insane, love it.

For many players, the animated cutscenes may be confusing on the first watch. So many references to JTTW, metaphors, mix of Chinese Taoism and Buddhism. I personally encourage people to look around in forums for explanations, plenty of the Chinese words are untranslatable into English, but it's all so worth the knowledge.

Enjoying the JTTW shows and contents as a child is all about the fun and giggles, understanding the lesson of it all as an adult hits me like bricks, especially with the way they're adapted in this game.

I CRIED?? A LOT??? Of all characters I could cry for, ZHU BAJIE?? Man is literally a nasty pervert in the book, living to the pig form indeed, but in this game he's a bit better. Sure he's still his natural pervert self, but since the game took place after JTTW, he surely had some character development. His animated love story cutscene, loorddd they have no business making it so full of freshly diced onions.

Love how each character in animations have different styles. Erlang's design in particular are different in each scenes. Most of the time he has dark hair, in others he has white hair and different armor, same goes for Wukong's design. I'd imagine the devs struggled to choose for one consistent design and decided to just fuck it and put them all in lmao.

And then THE SOUNDTRACKS, THE SOUNDTRACKS YALL. Love love love it when they incorporate buddhist prayer chants flawlessly into the soundrack. The soundtrack during the chapter one ending animation caught my attention with it, I asked around what mantra is it and they say it's probably Cundi Dharani? Please correct me if I'm wrong. The track is called "I See" in the official playlist. The lyrics too, my god, the way they narate the animations.

During the fight with Keeper of Flaming Mountains, IS THE SOUNDTRACK A RENDITION OF "FISHERMAN'S SONG AT DUSK"? IS IT? Losing my mind because it's my favourite chinese traditional piece. Half expected him to pull out a guzheng and blast me with phantom blade from the strings, IYKYK.

And of course, a new rendition of the classic JTTW theme. This will be my neighbour's favourite music for a while.

Some tidbits I like, apparently if you're idle for a while and Zhu Bajie is with you, sometimes he'll start to talk about past stories or lectures you. If you push him around for a few times he'll get annoyed, if you keep pushing him then he'll struck you with his rake lmaoooo. Perhaps we weren't so different from Wukong after all.

Another insane stuff is the headless singing guy. GoW has a talking disembodied head, now BMW has a HEADLESS singing man, literally a reverse Mimir.

The rematch with The Four Heavenly Kings YOOOOO I love their design so much. They look like statues from temples jumping straight to life. The stances! Throwing hands with them is the true Monke of War experience. The East King with his Pipa literally playing the background music, excellent touch.

This has been an insane scroll of yappings, I'll stop here (for now) and take a moment to touch grass. If you've been reading ALL THE WAY to this line, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to harm your braincells.

[merakiui]

re: pathetic virgin riddle who gets off to your notes.

(cw: nsfw, yandere, unhealthy behaviors, obsession, riddle has a big imagination and an even bigger crush on you <3, also he’s very gross with your notebook)

riddle knows it’s wrong. when he steals your notebook, that is. theft is a very real crime with very real repercussions. but he couldn’t help it! you’d left it on the desk and the classroom was devoid of students and he only happened to peek inside the room as he was passing…

he’ll return it to you. of course he will; he’s not a criminal! stealing breaks the rules and he is not one to break the rules. it will be a cold day in hell before he does something so brazen. so filthy and against the rules he upholds. so he tells himself he’s just holding onto your notebook. he didn’t steal it. sure, he’d lied when you asked if he’d seen it because he wasn’t ready to relinquish something so precious. but lying doesn’t break any specific rules. lying is a means of skirting around the truth. he’ll give you your notebook when he sees you in class next. he promises himself this.

but it sits on his desk for the week, and you’ve been asking around. riddle almost doesn’t want to touch it. he fears he’ll leave fingerprints and you’ll know he was the one to take it. but he can’t resist the urge to flip through a few pages. it’s late at night; studying is wearing him down. normally he’s not one to pull all-nighters, but with final exams approaching he needs every spare moment he can get to organize a study guide for himself.

it’s not like he’s studying anyway. he can hardly focus, not when his hand is slicked up and wrapped firmly around his half-hard cock. it’s a haze; he’s used to it—getting off to release some pent-up stress. it’s normal. still, he feels a sliver of gross shame when he reaches for your notebook, peeling the cover back to peer at your alchemy notes. you’re a messy note-taker. it’s obvious you get bored in class; there are doodles and scribbles in the margins. you’ve written your name in fancy lettering. you’ve crinkled the page edge. you’ve even started a few games of tic-tac-toe with your seat mates. there’s so much character in this notebook. he’s fascinated with the way you write, the way you transcribe notes, the way everything is so genuinely you.

riddle runs his hand up his shaft and a shudder races up his spine. slowly, so slowly, he sets a pace that mirrors his scandalous thoughts. he thinks about you sitting in class, pen between your fingers, watching the professor lecture or maybe dozing off in the back. maybe you occasionally tap your pen against your lips—your pretty, plush, kissable lips. he wonders what you taste like. how do you kiss? is it starved and desperate? sweet and slow? dominating and determined? would you kiss the same mouth that’s tasted the teeth marks in your (now missing) pencil? not that you’d ever know… but would you? would you love him in spite of filthy infatuation?

he hums low in his throat, easily pleased by these fantasies. kissing and touching… it’s vanilla, but it’s everything he wants. he wants to press himself against your body, fuck into your tight warmth in the confines of his canopy bed, enshrouded in deep vermilions, and hold you close as you cry through your climax. you’re the prettiest in red. he would know. he’s thought of you in red, slept with thoughts of it like it’s a vision granted by the stars.

he flips the page in your notebook. his grip tightens; his thumb runs over his soft, pudgy tip, where the smallest amount of pre-cum beads. sensitive, as always. he sighs like it’s been squeezed out of him, prompted by visuals of you in red, of you pressed into the mattress, of you on your knees and locked in a collar, your mouth open to receive him. great seven, your notes are a mess. he should tutor you. god, he should. he should bend you over the desk and pound the answers into you so you’ll never forget a thing. maybe your notes will become more organized then.

he sucks in a breath through grit teeth. you’re cute when you focus. you’re cute when you let your mind wander. you’re cute when you lick your fork clean at the unbirthday parties and voice your satisfaction, sugared words falling from your lips like the sweetest honey. he’ll feed you lots of sweets if it means you’ll always smile. he’ll lay you down on the table, ruin the pristine tablecloth, and indulge in you all to prove you’re sweeter than a strawberry tart. who cares about the rules. he really should, but sometimes he wants to break a few with you. sometimes, though he knows it’s wrong, he wants to defile the rose garden. let it reek of sex and sweat. let everyone know you’ve been claimed. let them see the impression he’s left on you, whether in the form of bruises or love bites or a wrinkled, disheveled uniform. let them hear the way you’ll sob in pleasure when he fucks you like an animal who knows of nothing but the primal instinct to breed and breed and breed…

riddle flips to a new page. he whines, arches in his chair, grabs at the desk with his free hand. sweat rolls down the valley between his shoulder blades. oh, the things you do to him. your notes are so messy. he loves it—loves you. loves, loves, loves you. he thinks of locking you away in his room. you’d be like his pretty doll, accessible to only him. he’d dress you accordingly—put you in prim, modest outfits, only to tear them off like they never even mattered. if there’s anyone he’d willingly uproot his life for, it’s you. you drive him mad. mad with love. mad with lust. mad with envy. mad with every single emotion he’s ever felt. you have such a chokehold on him! he’ll never let you go. he’ll never let you out of his mind. you’re stuck in the little cage he’s constructed in his head, living more than rent-free. you live willingly, mostly. but then he’s certain you’d disagree with his affections.

he flips the page.

your notes are uniquely you. if he brings the page close enough to his nose, he’s certain he can smell you. sometimes he’s envious of the beastfolk and their keen sense of smell. he wants to engrave your scent onto his being, pin it to his nostrils so he’ll always know you. he wants to keep you in the queendom of roses so that, eventually, you’ll smell of roses and every other sweet bloom like him. and then it will be a shared scent. then it’ll feel like he’s imprinted something on you. he’ll stake his claim, keep you as his, treat you just as you deserve to be treated. he’ll love you more than you’ll love yourself.

riddle’s a mess. he’s panting, bucking into his hand as he chases an orgasmic high, thoroughly desperate to cum (although ideally there’s a carnal part of him that wishes so fervently to do it inside). there are so many secret spots strewn throughout campus, each one perfect for a lewd tryst or two. he thinks of the time you watched him during equestrian club. you asked so many questions about horses and he’d answered all of them. you wrote some facts down; he finds them in this notebook. your way of writing is wonderfully enthralling. he could read your words forever. you could ride him forever. what he’d give to be beneath you on a bed of straw in the stables while you fuck yourself on his cock. he’s filthy; he knows it’s wrong. he knows you could get caught, but that’s what makes it so appealing.

his grip on your notebook is bruising. he’s not reading any of your words anymore; he’s too dazed to commit anything to memory—although most of it is information he already knows. seven, you’re going to be the death of him. he wants you so badly.

riddle, caught in a spiderweb of lustful daydreams, fucks faster into his hand, squeezes himself in a desperate attempt to simulate the constrictive embrace of your walls, all while gasping and groaning. he cums with a shiver; it spills over, sticky and thick and plentiful. he’d feel humiliated if he wasn’t so overcome with an exhilarating relief. he’s hunched over his desk, his heart beating like a drum. blood rushes wildly in his ears.

it’s only when he’s come down from his high that he realizes he came all over your notebook. it’s messy and filthy. he stares blankly at it, wondering if it’s possible to magic away. it is. but then… no, it’s wrong. very wrong. he shouldn’t. he really shouldn’t.

it’s wrong. he should clean it or overwrite it with a simple spell. he shouldn’t. it’s so wrong. and he’s good. he’s supposed to be, at least.

riddle catches you after class the following day. he tells you a student recently turned your notebook in to him and he’s returning it on behalf of the unknown student. you thank him sincerely, sigh about how you’re so relieved it’s back in your possession. you thought you’d never get your notes back. you need these to pass. riddle offers you a smile and tells you to keep it closer next time. your notebook might not be found so easily if you lose it again.

but if you do lose it, he’ll make sure to keep it out of range when he’s masturbating. at least only one page was tainted. you’ll stumble upon it; he’s certain of this. but then he wants you to. he wants you to see the proof of what you do to him. the way you get him so worked up. you’ll never know it’s him, but that’s for the best. next time, he won’t be so careless in handling your things.

next time, he’ll cum where he’s meant to: inside you.

[sehtoast]

Slices of a New Life (Depowered!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 4.3k, brief somno smut scene at the double divider mark, hurt/comfort, home remodeling, domestic bliss/turmoil, nightmares, shared showers, doctor appointments, emotional breakdowns, lingering trauma, mirrorlander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

The nightmares were the worst. His body would heal… for the most part, at least. Cuts would mend, scars would form, that chipped molar would become the new norm– at least until he stopped panicking at the thought of seeing a dentist. 

But his mind? 

It never did forget. Not even the trauma he endured in the labs as a child was ever really far from the front of his mind. And now? 

Now there was something new. Something fresh and horrible. 

Something all too happy to pervade his dreams and rip him from what little rest his anxious existence could even get these days.  Night after night, day after day.

If it wasn’t full blown nightmares, it was panic attacks– or were they anxiety attacks?  Fuck, at this rate, who cares?

God knows it’s taken him long enough to get used to standing under the water of the shower since then, but would he ever get used to living again?  

Well.  

If one could even call this living.  The closest he’s gone to outside since Benjamin rescued him has been to see Doctor Edi, and even that was mortifying. 

“Goodness!”  The old woman had gasped when she entered the room.  Benjamin had snuck him into Vought Tower.  It scared him half to death to get carried up the side of the skyscraper now that he could no longer fly, but the web-head insisted he needed to at least get some degree of medical attention after everything, and there was no way in hell Homelander was going in through the front door willingly or letting some stranger poke and prod at him.  Doctor Edi was the only one he’d see, albeit reluctantly. If nothing else, the idea of maybe getting something to help him sleep at night made him a little less reluctant.

Setting foot in the tower felt like a massive mistake the moment they entered.  Ben’s old apartment stung his heart like nothing else, and the walk through the halls had been petrifying despite the fact no one even recognized him in his beanie and hoodie.

And now, sitting before the doctor?

It didn’t take long for the humiliation and shame to turn to rampant anxiety and dread, quickly spiraling far beyond his control until his breathing became rapid.

“Shh,” Ben coos, hands rubbing at his shoulders.  “He’s been like this…”

He wants to yell at Ben to shut his mouth– he has not been weak.  The shame he feels now brings him back to then, back to the cell, back to that guard humiliating him, hurting him day after fucking day.  It grips him by the chest and squeezes every part of him until he feels like he’s suffocating– chest too tight, lungs won’t breathe, heart too fast–

His head is under the weight of that boot again and that fucking cattle prod is going to press against his back soon and–

The chatter between Ben and the doctor fades into garbled words, but he’s at least still visually grounded.  No haziness or swirling yet.  He’s had a few of these already.  It’s only been four weeks since he’s come home, but…

“Once a day,” he hears Ben say clearly.  “Every other if we’re lucky. Shh, pumpkin.  It’s okay…”  

He knows that, he just can’t make it stop once it starts.  The roar of the firehose pummeling him against the wall, the clanging of the baton outside the cell, the coldness of the cement floor all fill his mind. 

Homelander barely registers the feeling of Ben’s jacket being draped over him, but it does somehow soothe his nerves– if only a little. Focus, focus…  Just fucking focus.

“...considered therapy?”

I don’t need fucking therapy! He shouts inside his head, teeth grit as he hisses a shaky breath. The lights are too bright.  His skin feels too tight, he’s itchy, too hot. Stop trying to–

“He doesn’t want to.” Ben answers, then their banter fades out again.  Something about his fear of being recognized...  Homelander clenches his eyes shut and shoves his face against Ben’s chest, knuckles white as he grips the edge of the padded examination table like his life depends on it.  

Somehow that helps.

The two talk for a moment longer, surface level details of what he'd gone through and the extent of his mostly-healed injuries are shared, then suddenly they’re alone and Benjamin is whispering in his ear.

“Remember what we talked about?  Breathe, pumpkin.” 

Easy for you to say.  

But he tries.

“That’s it… Just us now,” Ben whispers.  “Proud of you.  M’sorry to put you through this...”

No… I’m sorry.

But the words don’t come out.  He just clings to his little spider and keeps trying to control his breathing, just like Ben said.

In… and out.

In…

Hold it…

Out. Slow…

“Attaboy.”

At least by the end, after a lot of unpleasant poking and prodding and blood draws, he gets a lovely bottle of sleep medication.  He prays it’ll work.

He’s back to sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he flips through channel after channel, app after app.  Ben’s out for the night.  Some stupid fuck just had to blare their sirens loud enough for him to hear…

He feels rotten without his little spider around to distract him.  The voice in his head tends to seize its opportunity without Ben around to soothe the both of them.  It begins with a ringing in his ears, just like always.

Could you get any more pathetic?

He groans, tapping the tip of the remote against his temple as if that would silence his other half.

“We’re not doing this…” He mutters under his breath, jamming his finger down on the volume-up button to drown him out.

Face it tiger, you’re cooked.  Demoted to house pet.

It’s been like this since Ben broke him out of that fucking supe prison.  Hell, his other half taunted him in there, too.  There was no escaping him, nowhere to run, nowhere quiet.  He’s just about to start a whole argument when he hears the telltale sound of the window sliding open and shut.

Saved by the bug. As usual.

John breathes a sigh of relief instantly. They say their hellos and he follows Ben into the bathroom like some sort of lost puppy.  Seems that all he is these days.

“Anything fun?”  He asks, sitting on the ledge of the tub while Ben wets and tousles his mask-flattened hair back to something decent. 

“Mm, some dickhead tearing up a bank.” Ben says.  “Called himself Shocker. Guy was a little weirdo, honestly.”

Homelander huffs a short laugh, betraying the way he truly feels.  This is the only way he can be involved in heroics now.  Hearing about it, watching it on the news, seeing little videos from bystanders on social media.  More than anything though, he hates that he can’t be there.  He should be out there protecting his little spider, making sure none of those rancid fucks put a hand on him.  It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ben injured, but still…

“Hey, how’d that movie end?”

“Stupid.”  He says. “The main guy got killed, the blonde girl lived.  Typical horror movie.  They put the killer through a woodchipper though.  That was cool.”

“Typical horror movie,” Ben echoes in agreement, letting out a big yawn right after. 

The bug offers him a hand, which Homelander takes without hesitation. They wind up in bed, cuddled up close to wind down for the night.  He hates to admit it, but he really is extra clingy these days.

Back when he was stuck in that cell, he’d lay on the cement floor and weep, praying that it was all a dream and he’d wake up to his Benjamin.  It would all be a bad dream; he’d be okay, he’d be at home and safe.  But then his eyes would open the next morning and he’d still be in that cell, still on that floor.

Sometimes he’s scared he’ll wake up on that cold slab all over again.

He falls asleep to fingers raking softly through his hair, warm and content to keep his head atop Ben’s chest, hearing thumps from the heart that claimed him.  And he’s okay for a time, completely and utterly okay.

Until he’s not.

Until he’s back in that cell– until the door swings open and in walks that guard and fear paralyzes him into a perfect ragdoll to be thrown to the floor.

He’s beaten bloody.  Cut and battered, thrown about like the worthless sack of nothing he is, and then that boot is on his head again, prod pressed to his back.

“Beg,” the guard orders.  “Beg for your life.”

The sharp crackle of electricity shocks him back to consciousness, but the words fly off his tongue anyway–

“Please don’t!”

He jolts, damn near falling off the side of the bed if not for the thwip of a web grabbing him by the center of his heaving chest.  The room is lit only by a faint blue glow and he can hardly see, but he knows that sound better than anything.

“Hey– s’okay.  You’re good; you’re safe...”

And he knows that voice.

For a moment, he thought he’d never hear it again.

His breathing is fast and ragged as he comes down from the panic.

“Fuck…” He pants.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Every fucking night with this.  Every single fucking night…

The table light gets flicked on once he’s calm enough to release Ben from the closest thing to a death grip he can muster these days.  Tears of frustration well in his eyes despite his best effort to hold them back. 

They don’t take much more than a second to spill free once Ben's arms wrap around him.

“Sorry,” the bug murmurs as he disconnects each little strand of webbing stuck to him that tugs at his chest hair.

Homelander snorts.  Ben must think he’s crying like this because it hurts. To be fair, it is like having the world's smallest and strongest bandage torn off, but he’s had worse.

He’s had so much worse.

“Did you take your pills?”

“Yes, I took my fucking pills, Ben.”  He snaps.  “For fucks sake, I–”

But he stops.  He always feels guilty after this– after all of it.  The waking, the screaming, the agitation and short-tempered remarks.  He’d never admit to it, but…

Ben doesn’t respond to his outburst.  The bug never did.  Years together now, and Ben’s always been so sickeningly tolerant of him, never cracking even when it’s written on his face clear as day that he’s on his last leg. Patient, even if he sat there in tears from the things Homelander had said to him.  Understanding…

He doesn’t know where the fuck Ben gets it, but he’s glad at least one of them is levelheaded, even if it does piss him off sometimes.  It wouldn’t hurt for the boy to snap and yell back once in a while.  At least it would even the score…

He’s groggy and miserable the next day.  He wakes with a groan, eventually letting Benjamin drag him into a shower.  He’s gotten better with standing under the stream, though he still can’t help but recall what it was like to be on the receiving end of the blistering torrent of that hose in the prison showers when he does.

So, as usual, they take it slow. Ben enters first, holds a hand out, leads him in.  Hugs him close and slowly walks them backward into the water until they’re both wet and all is well.  He leans his head atop Ben’s shoulder, eyes shut as they stand under the warmth.

Benjamin has the day off.  In theory, they could stay there all day.  Whether or not the hot water would last was another thing entirely, but they technically could.

He hums contentedly as a soapy loofah roams his body.  The one benefit left to crawling out of bed in the morning was being spoiled rotten by his little spider.  He never could decide what he liked more: the skincare routine or the hair washing.

Even with his hair buzzed short, Benjamin still took his sweet time raking and rubbing suds into his scalp, even massaging his temples.  It definitely alleviates the tension, that’s for sure.  But then there’s the face wash… Thumbs stroking his cheekbones, smoothing out the worry lines on his forehead, booping the tip of his nose.

Oh, how he adores it all.

Even when they’re done and Ben helps carefully shave away the overgrowth of his facial hair, he loves it.  Two kisses pressed to his cheeks, some kind of serum and moisturizer, and Ben assures him that he’s the most beautiful man alive.

Their morning is spent messing around with the layout of the house.  Most things were put away within the first week of his rescue, though he was in no condition to help.  Ben spent that time building all kinds of furniture at his bedside, dragging it with ease to its new home in some corner or wherever else he saw fit.  Slowly, over time, the house became a home, and today was for finishing touches.  All they had to do was rearrange a few things here or there until it was perfect. 

Homelander snorts a laugh when Ben drags the couch an inch or two to the left while he rests on it.

When they finish, he can’t help but feel something tugging at his heart.  Something he… really hasn’t ever felt.

Sure, he had the cabin.  That was a house and it was his.  It was nice and all, but it wasn’t…. It wasn’t this.

Not even the glory of the penthouse could touch the way this makes him feel.

Emotional was definitely a word for it.

How could he not get choked up?  Looking around, seeing his dream...  The love of his life, pictures of them together, a cozy kitchen, inviting living room, soft lighting because Benjamin knows how he feels about bright overhead lights...  The only thing that was missing was the stereotypical white picket fence, but he could make an exception for something so small when everything he ever dreamed of is right here.

“You have to talk about it at some point.”

“Fuck you!  Fuck! You!”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh.  Doesn’t mean to shout or grit his teeth or any of it.  But he has to protect himself.

“I know it’s shitty, but keeping it locked up isn’t helping, y’know.”  Ben tells him, calm and collected as ever.  Suppose he has no reason to fear a dog that can no longer bite.  Well, not that he was ever afraid to begin with.

“I already said I’m not seeing a fucking therapist and that’s final!”  He seethes, shaky finger pointing accusingly as if to remind Benjamin that he knows this answer already.  “I–”

“I’m not asking you to go to therapy,” Ben says.  “You can’t anyway until I twist Stan’s nuts hard enough to get you to exist legally on paper and stuff– still can't believe the fuckin’ board brought him back–  I just… Can’t you talk to me?”

Homelander presses two fingers to each of his temples, massaging the frustration and headache throbbing beneath his skin.  “It’s still a no– for fuck’s sake why don’t you ever listen!?”

“Because it’s for you, you goof!”  Ben leans back on the couch as though this weren’t the most heated argument they’ve had since Homelander lost his powers.  “I grew up in therapy, babe.  I’m a good listener. I promise.”

“No.”

“Why?” Ben asks immediately.

“Because–”

Because I don’t want you to know every humiliating thing that’s happened to me.

“I–”

Because I can’t bear to see the way you look at me change again.

“I–”

Because I’m so afraid you’ll see me as more worthless than I already am…

“Fuck you!”  Of course his words come out choked.  Of course he’d have to give himself away in such a pathetic manner.  He realizes he’s been pacing the whole time, agitated. 

There’s nowhere to go.  No blue skies nor clouds in which he can hide.  If he leaves, he’s bound to be seen, bound to be recognized. There’s nowhere in the house he can go without Ben fucking finding him eventually.

His hands grip at his borrowed shorts, clenching, knuckles turning white.  Too much– too warm, too loud, too quiet, can’t get enough air, can’t–

Pathetic.

“God damnit!”  Homelander roars, sinking to his knees, eyes clenched shut with all his might.  His palms press tight over his ears, shielding himself from nothing and everything all at once.  He curls in on himself, like a turtle hiding in his shell– but he hasn’t got that.  He’s like a nerve, raw and vulnerable, utterly at the mercy of the world.

He can’t hear Benjamin approach, can’t feel the kiss of air as the bug squats before him and just stays there.  He just holds himself like that, lip bit between his teeth, eyes shut like gates that would open for nothing and no one as he blocks out the world.

He's that little boy in the lab again, rocking himself in the corner– his only comfort. 

He's the man in the cell, curled up in the fetal position against a cold, hard floor. 

He is anger and rage, sadness and woe, helplessness and desperation. And he feels so small…

He is a dog ready to be put down at any moment by a world from which he can no longer protect himself. A world that is too much for him to bear.

He can’t release his pain into it.

He can’t give the world one more fucking hold over him.

“Are you sure?  I can take you to my stylist. She’s super cool.”

Homelander shakes his head.  That would require going out, plus he’s not sure he’s ready to feel a pair of clippers shear his head again.  Not after they buzzed him nearly bald in the supe prison. Seeing himself look so wrong was…

He doesn’t want to go through that again.

He can’t go through that again.

Ben was off for another day.  He’d just been formally appointed as captain of the new and improved Seven, a clean slate all except for the web-head himself.  Stacks of contract papers littered the desk in the bedroom, and even more were splayed out upon the table in front of the couch.  They’d been sitting for some time.  Homelander had been watching a documentary about Pompeii while Ben sorted through so much legal jargon it was a miracle the bug’s head didn’t explode.

A hand ruffles John’s messy hair.  Four months of growth and it was getting a bit out of hand.  The sides and top were at an oddly equal length, and he was looking quite shaggy.  Benjamin’s offer hangs in the air, but Homelander can’t quite find it in himself to agree to be at the mercy of someone, even if it would be to his benefit.

“I thought you finished picking through your contract.” John says, trying to shift the focus elsewhere. “What’s with this one?”

Ben smiles at him, grinning wide and proud.

“This one’s about you,” he says excitedly.  

Homelander’s brow furrows and he leans forward immediately.  Anxious thoughts ripple through his mind.  Are they trying to come after him?  Would they take him away again– oh god, oh god–

“It's nothing bad, I promise. I’m getting you everything, and I do mean everything.”  Ben tells him. “I’m not letting them raw deal you. Like I said, I'm basically twisting Stan's nuts.  But anyway, uhm, where to start… The stack over there,” the bug points to the corner of the table, “is to get you the shit that’ll prove you exist.  Birth certificate, state ID, social security number– all the government goods, basically. This one,” Ben points at two different stacks, “is to get Vought off your ass for good– except for Doctor Edi, since you said you’re comfortable seeing her.  But that can always change if you want.”

John just sat in awe, brow furrowed as he listened.

“Also, basically any claim that you’re their ‘product,’ and therefore theirs, will be made into the bullshit it’s always been.  Just in case they try to pull that at any point.  I just… I’m trying to cover your ass every way I possibly can.  I know a guy who knows this one cool lawyer.  We got this.”

“I…” Homelander begins, but he can’t think of anything to say.  Even a thank you feels insufficient.

Instead, he leans forward and pulls Ben into a kiss, sniffling and blinking back tears when they part.

“I love you,” Ben tells him firmly.  “I’m not stopping till I know you’re a free man with the world as your oyster.”

When Benjamin wakes, it’s to a fullness slipping in and out of his core.  Delicious pressure clouds his sleep-hazed mind in the best of ways, and he knows the culprit without even turning over.  Hot, heavy breaths pant into his ear, fanning down the curve of his jaw.

“Mmm,” he hums.  “G’mornin, pumpkin.”

Homelander acknowledges Benjamin with a kiss to his nape.  He thrusts slowly, basking in the pleasure rippling through his body.

“So good,” Homelander gasps. Little broken moans escape him with each movement as if any second could spell his undoing. “Couldn't– couldn't help it. Needed you…” he admits. 

A smile cracks across Benjamin's sleepy face. He's almost positive of how this whole thing started, same as it always did. Homelander probably woke up half hard and tried to offset it with some light grinding, but it wasn't enough. 

It never is. 

“Almost… mmm, almost,” he pants, clinging to Ben like his life depended on it. Each roll of his hips came faster and harder until he was rutting sloppily, chasing that release so desperately. “I– oh, fuck, I’m–” he mewls, suddenly choking off his whimpers into a tight, precious moan. His hips halt and quake as he spills, body stiff as a board. 

Ben rocks gently and revels in the little strangled breaths gasped against his neck. This is good, he thinks to himself. Not solely because it felt good– it always did– but because Homelander's confidence had taken such a sharp dive after everything he'd gone through, and it was nice to see him be bold like this again. 

He feels a hand creep down between his thighs, finding his stiff nub and pressing circles to the head of it. It was Ben's turn to hum a moan, his turn to clench and rock until the soft waves of bliss lapped at the shores of his mind and body, crumbling him so gently and powerfully all at once. 

He moans Homelander's name for added effect. He prays it lifts that surge of confidence even more. 

The two lay slumped together for a time, basking in the afterglow.  Ben reaches back to run his fingers through John’s hair, murmuring the first “love you” of the day.

Not even the morning sun could shine brighter than the smile on his precious Johnny’s face in that moment.

He didn’t understand Ben sometimes.  

The bug had bought their home outright after the previous owner moved out to live with her kids.  

“I specifically wanted something a bunch of flippers didn’t fuck up, y’know?” He’d said when Homelander asked about it.  

See, there were several things about the house that were… unique.  Totally pink bathrooms, blue kitchen cabinets, just a ton of outdated aesthetics overall.  But there was nothing wrong that necessitated fixing, so he didn’t get why Ben insisted upon shutting down the spare bathroom to remodel it.

It was a mess. His job was to keep Ben company and, to be fair, it was more interesting to watch him yank the toilet off the floor than browse whatever mud was playing on TV.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”  He asks, head leaned into his hand as he sits atop a step ladder.

“Uhh,” the bug shrugs.  “Mostly.  I mean I watched some videos and called my dad, so… Besides, this is just the destructive part– which, y’know, is the fun part.”

Fair, Homelander thinks.

“Besides, you’re gonna like it when it’s done,” Ben says as he carries the pink monstrosity into the hallway.  “I’ll let you pick the new toileeeet~” He sings while beginning his trek downstairs.

Homelander rolls his eyes, but he is admittedly a little excited at the thought of picking out more things for their house.  They’d only been living there for six months, but it felt like an eternity– like it was theirs this whole time and they only needed to find it.

He hears the front door open and rolls his eyes at the realization that pink eye sore is going to sit on the curb until trash night and the whole neighborhood will know they’ve been using something so hideous.

“You better put a tarp over that thing,” he calls out when he hears Benjamin coming back in.  “Nobody needs to see our shame.”

Ben’s giggles ring in time with footfalls ascending the stairs.

“Oh? I thought you didn’t mind the pink throne?”  He teases.  Benjamin has a chisel and hammer in one hand, as well as a pair of protective gloves, glasses, and a respirator mask in the other.  He offers them all to Homelander, then nods in the direction of the bathroom.  “C’mon, you’re helping me chip the tile off the walls.”

“I am not wearing that,” he says flatly.

“You are if you wanna break stuff.”

“You’re not even wearing a mask, I–” he tries, but stops short when Ben yanks his Spidey mask from his back pocket and dons it.  “Ugh. Fine…”

At least they look ridiculous together.

[amourtoken]

hi!!! listen… corruption kink!ruby with innocent! reader and its the first time hes all like just the tip and you agree. but he just gets rougher and SLAMS INTO YOU??? PLEASSSEEEE

literally squealed over this bc I was excited to write it 😭 BUT UGHHHHHH that's so hot fuck me lol I'm definitely referencing like oddy/shark attack era ruby in this bc he makes me physically sick I need him so bad btw (also this is insanely long for what it is forgive me I got excited asf. ALSO not using his real name bc I don't feel like typing the whole thing out rn maybe next time)

Cw: corruption kink and a very very inexperienced reader with a nasty ass Ruby. He's evil. Oral (f receiving), nipple play, fingering, raw sex (don't ever do this), breeding, Ruby doesn't ever shut the fuck up, loss of virginity, size kink, dacryphilia, ruby is rlly rough and i could almost consider a part of this dubcon but lets not think too hard, overstimulation, just general freak shit.

I've added some visuals/x links so you can enjoy those scenes a Lil more <3

He's always been into you because you're everything he isn't. You're the perfect little clean cut angel and to be honest a little clueless about what life really has to offer yk? You haven't experienced so much as half of what he has and probably never will, and that makes you so much softer in every way. He'd love literally nothing more than to just jam you in a glass case and protect you from the world forever, admiring you like priceless art, however-

As much as that last thought applies, he has this uncontrollable itch in his brain that plagues the hell out of his thoughts and he swears it only gets worse by the day. He could leave you as you are, untouched and perfectly innocent, or he could defile the fuck out of you. It's getting harder and harder to avoid thinking about how bad he wants to hike that pretty white sundress you wear up your hips and bend you over the nearest flat surface. He's fucked his fist to the thought of how pretty you'd look split on his dick and all the high pitched sounds you'd make, how nice his name would sound when it's being whined while you're begging him not to stop countless times by now and it's really just not cutting it anymore.

It doesn't help that you're basically clueless to your effect on him either. You love tucking yourself under his arm while you're sitting on the couch together or basically crawling up into his lap to nap with your head on his shoulder. You act like that's normal, he practically has to peel you off of him sometimes and you always pout with big puppy eyes looking up at him cause he's so comfy and had the audacity to ruin it? Unbelievable. Every time you pass out with your head on his lap he can't help but imagine lacing his fingers in your hair and gagging you on his cock till your perfect makeup is running down your cheeks. He feels so gross but fuck he really can't keep depriving himself, it'd make you feel good too, so how wrong are these thoughts of his really?

He ends up caving to his own needs finally after yet another night of scrolling your socials and jacking off to any skin you'd show in your pics which was few and far between since basically everything was relatively tasteful. He'd get lucky and come across a beach trip set of photos and edge himself for hours to the thought of you riding him in that skimpy ass bikini of yours. He decides to make a move the next time you're over cause he can't keep up this act anymore.

You come over like usual and you just so happen to be wearing an oversized shirt you'd stolen from his place a few days back, which already had him reeling. He lingers a little longer than usual when you pull him into a hug as a greeting, hands resting on your hips for just a second before you're flopping onto the couch and getting comfy while waiting on him. Thank God he smoked before you showed up because it's helping to dull the nervous energy swimming in his chest. He hopes this doesn't fuck up your friendship cause he really does love having you around, he just can't keep living in this haze and hopes you understand. You're always so sweet and understanding of everything though...this should be fine.

He takes his usual spot next to you and throws on the first movie he sees cause he really isn't even paying attention, he couldn't even if he wanted to right now. You're no stranger to physical affection from him so his hand resting on your knee didn't feel out of place. It wasn't until his fingers were brushing under the hem of your shorts that you tilted your head over at him with a confused expression.

"You trust me, right?"

Of course? You always have, you've told him before. Why is he asking again? He keeps your legs spread with his arm as his fingers keep tracing circles against your hip under your shorts. He was silent for a bit before actually responding, which was a little out of character but the butterflies in your stomach kicking up were starting to muffle any of your thoughts. You've always found him attractive but that's your best friend, of course you find him pretty. He'd never want anything else to do with you that wasn't platonic. Right? His fingers brushing against the lace edge of your white panties is surely platonic.

your legs fall open when one slides off the couch and Ruby ofc takes this as an opportunity to take things further. You look so pretty like this, your eyes are glued to his face while his hands work on your lower half, he brushes his thumb over your clit through your panties and you yelp in suprise, grabbing his wrist to stop him. The feeling spread through your whole body like electricity, it wasn't something you were used to at all. You instantly started fumbling over your words explaining you've never done this before, no one's ever touched you this way, hell you hadn't even done it yourself. All of this information went straight to Ruby's cock. He knew you were inexperienced but this is a whole new level of purity to him, and he can't fucking wait to ruin you.

"'s fine baby you don't have to do anything but trust me. I'll make you feel good, promise."

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and drug them down your legs with your panties leaving you completely bare for him. You hadn't done this before but you were fucking dripping for him in anticipation already (or nerves. Either way your heart was racing). He pulled the edge of his oversized shirt up your torso and had you hold it in your teeth to keep it out of the way, it was also a good way to muffle any of the sounds you were making. He'd never seen you completely naked so this was a fucking treat to him, he felt like a wolf staring down a lamb in the moment cause you looked beyond delicious in every way. He really couldn't deny himself a taste. Ruby used what little patience he had to tease you and really draw out the moment. The couch really didn't have much room so he took a spot on his knees on the floor and gripped your hips, adjusting you to face him with your legs wide open and shirt still caught between your teeth. He brushed his hands up and down your thighs a few times before spreading your pussy with his thumbs so he could get the best angle when he buried his face in it. Your back immediately arched off the couch and your hands flew to his hair, tangling in it and pulling harshly out of instinct. He groaned against you but didn't stop, licking wide stripes from your entrance back up to your clit repeatedly. God you were already trembling, he was gonna have so much fun with you.

you were already panting and whining just from his tongue but when he edged a single finger into you, your head falls back against the couch and you moan his name in such a pretty tone it has his cock twitching in his sweats. You were so tight around him he really worried if he'd even be able to fuck you tonight, he could make it fit one way or another though. Ruby was working another finger into you and pulled back to watch how you gripped him so fucking tight, he didn't leave you untouched though, his free hand rubbing slow circles against your clit that had you bucking almost involuntarily against him. Your thighs were shaking so bad when he hooked his fingers inside you to hit spots you didn't even know existed, he had your eyes rolling back so far into your skull you were dizzy. Ruby was nearly entranced by the whole ordeal, watching you literally drip down his fingers and wrist like a faucet. It's a shame no one else got to experience this first cause now there's no way he's ever letting someone else feel you, taste you, any of it. As far as he's concerned you're branded.

"Feels good, huh baby? Can't believe you've never done this. Gonna touch yourself thinkin' about me after we're done? Gonna call me and beg me to come fill this pussy up? Yeah?"

"Can't fuck you right till you cum on my fingers, don't wanna hurt you. You're almost there, just relax- fuck you're so tight-"

"Gonna fuckin ruin you for everyone else. You're mine."

Ruby presses a big hand to your lower stomach and you whimper like a dog, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It felt like there was so much pressure inside you, it ran all the way up your spine and down your legs. He leaned back in to suck at your clit and you could barely catch your breath. The coil in your belly kept tightening until you were pulling at his hair and begging him for a break cause the feeling was so intense and foreign but he didn't stop cause he knew everything you didn't. You came around his fingers with nothing short of a scream, he figured his apartment neighbors would bitch at him and complain about the noise but he'd happily take a noise complaint if that means he can watch you convulse and sob through an orgasm he forced you through again. You were shaking and whimpering, hot tears running down your cheeks while he scissored his fingers inside you working you open and letting you enjoy the aftershocks in the moment. By then you figured you were done, nothing tops that right? Your head was laid back against the cushions and your eyes were closed while you tried to catch your breath but in Ruby's eyes you were barely even started. You only opened your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock slap against your clit making you jolt.

He was fucking huge, you thought his fingers were a stretch but this? He must be joking if he thinks that's gonna fit inside you. You whined about being sensitive and how he was too big but he was quick to reassure you he'd take care of you.

"Just the tip, I promise. You trust me right? You know I can make you feel good baby just let me-"

you hissed at the stretch when he slid in like he promised, he didn't even need extra lube cause you were still drenched from earlier. You couldn't help but squirm a little, the burn of overstimulating still very present at your core. Ruby was upholding his promise for now but fuck the way you gripped his cock and how warm and tight you felt around him, he definitely couldn't stand it for long. He tried to distract himself a little by letting his hands roam your body, fingers teasing your nipples until they were peaked and sore. He tried to fit another inch inside but you whined and pressed your hands against his chest to stop his movements, not that he could've moved much anyway with how tight you were, he's just running out of patience very quickly. He resorted to just rocking his hips slowly, pulling out entirely before just fitting the tip back in and it felt great but fuck it wasn't nearly enough.

Ruby's hand reached between you to tease your clit again, easing a little more of himself into you but was still met with whines and cries and squirming. He knows he promised it'd be just the tip but you can't blame him for breaking this single promise, right? Your whines were cut off when he pressed a hand over your mouth and you looked like a little deer in headlights in that moment which almost made him reconsider but fuck you'd forgive him later. You whined and near sobbed against his hand when he sank balls deep into you in a single thrust. You felt so fucking full you could barely move, the stretch caused an awful ache through your whole body but once you calmed down a little Ruby brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, letting it catch between your teeth and press against your tongue while he finally got to fuck you how he needed. He really tried to keep a slow rhythm but he couldn't stop himself from fucking into you like he was trying to split you in half, his arms tight around your legs to keep you steady. (Vis.)

you felt fucking divine around his cock, like you were made for him. He hoped he'd last longer but the way you gripped him was the end of him, he'd been aching while eating you out so of course he was already on edge. When he came he leaned over you, folding you nearly in half and you whimpered when you felt him nudge your cervix as he spilled into you enough to drip down your ass onto the couch beneath you. He'd clean it later. Right now he was more focused on feeling you cum around his cock, even though he'd already finished he felt like you deserved more for letting him fuck you like this. He pressed himself deep into you and started a fast pace rubbing circles on your clit until you were shaking and crying out his name in that pretty little tone of yours.

"G-good fucking girl- good girl- fuck baby that's it, that's good- cum for me again? Please you're so close, cum on my cock baby girl- let go"

You definitely followed his words cause you came so hard black spots flooded your whole field of view, you sank your nails into his wrist trying to steady yourself but your whole body felt like it was electrified. Ruby rocked his hips gently against yours to really draw the feeling out as he leaned down to press kisses to your jaw and cheek. He finally pulled out and sat back to watch his cum drip out of your abused hole, feeling satisfied with himself. You were fucking spent, panting and laying back on the couch with a sheen of sweat making your hair stick to your forehead and his shirt still tugged up to reveal your whole body to him. He'd stay in this moment for fucking ever If he could, but there's so much more he wants to do to you once you recover. He's got plenty to show you.

[yuurei20]

Twisted Wonderland Curse Word Compilation pt2: Events

⚠️Language warning, Playfulland/Tapis Rouge visuals warning⚠️

A follow-up compilation to the Main Story collection ^^

Thank you again to the wonderful @/irafuwas for the wonderful explanations!

#1: くそ (kuso)

Meaning: Dammit/damn it, damn, god damn it, shit, bloody hell, fucking hell, fuck

Much like the main story Ace is again the #1 user of this word, repeating it at least 7 times in six events.

(After the opening movie, the first word of the opening line of the Playfulland event is Ace yelling the equivalent of “GOD DAMN IT”)

Grim repeats this word at least six times, Ruggie at least three times, Epel and Jack twice each, and once for Deuce and Fellow.

Unnamed characters also use this word during Halloween, White Rabbit Fes and New Years.

#2 ち (tch)

Not so much a word as it is an onomatopoeia, “tch” is still very impolite and is used to express frustration or disdain.

Leona is again the #1 user of this sound, repeating it at least 30 times from Fairy Gala to Playfulland.

Jack uses this sound at least six times, while Floyd and Fellow use it at least five times each, four times for Ace and Grim, and Jamil uses it at least three times.

It is used at least once by Azul, possessed Cater, Epel, Idia, Kalim and Ruggie. 

This sound is also used by unnamed characters during Phantom Bride, Firelit Sky, New Years and White Rabbit Fes, as well as Grum during Harveston.

#3 馬鹿 / バカ (baka)

Meaning: Idiot, moron, fool, dumb ass, dummy, stupid

Fellow is the #1 user of this word, saying it at least seven times during the Playfulland event.

Ace is again the #2 user of this word, saying it at least four times (three times to insult Grim specifically).

Epel uses this word in his dialect at least once (Marya translates at the end of the event) and it is also used at least once by Azul, Deuce, Idia, Trein and Leona.

#4 野郎 (yarou)

“Yarou” has a literal meaning of “guy” or “dude”, but can be used in a derogatory manner with a meaning of “asshole” or “jackass”.

Leona is again the #1 user of this word, repeating it at least 12 times (4 times to insult Fellow specifically).

Fellow is the #2 user of this word, repeating it at least 5 times during Playfulland.

Jack also uses this word at least 5 times from Fairy Gala to Playfulland while possessed Cater uses it twice, and once each by Ace, Deuce and Idia.

#5 ちくしょう

Meaning: Dammit/damn it, damn, god damn it, shit, bloody hell, fucking hell, fuck

Ace is the #1 user of this word, repeating it three times. It is used at least twice by Epel and once each by Deuce, Jack, Leona and an unnamed student during New Years.

#6 間抜け

Meaning: fool, moron, blockhead, half-wit, idiot.

Fellow is the #1 user of this word, repeating it at least 7 times during the Playfulland event.

Rollo and Leona are tied for the #2 user of this word with both characters repeating it at least four times each.

Floyd also uses it once to insult Ace.

#7 アホ

This is a common insult similar to “idiot” or “stupid,” used once by Leona during Tsumsted when he walks in on Savanaclaw students weeping at the thought that he has been turned into a tsum.

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye��s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.

[pluckyredhead]

Please ship Orion and Lightray with me, thank you

If you've been reading my Fourth World posting, you might have noticed me mentioning Orion and Lightray's relationship. This is because they're in love and I'm obsessed with them. Please join me in grumpy/sunshine-but-they're-alien-demigods hell, with visual references below.

So Orion, as we know, is the son of Darkseid who was raised on New Genesis but has always felt different and monstrous compared to his peers. Lightray is his best friend, who thinks Orion is just the best thing since sliced bread and says so constantly.

This is literally how we're introduced to them, in New Gods #1:

Lightray: Don't be sad. Hug time! Orion: Hugs are not for one such as me. But you're still my best friend. Lightray: Please let me enter your chambers. Orion: NO THEY ARE TOO DARK. Lightray: D:

This panel, from #6, sums up their whole dynamic really well:

Lightray doesn't crave battle the way Orion does but he is determined to stay by his side, while Orion doesn't want Lightray to fight beside him because he thinks Lightray is too good and pure to be tainted by violence.

Zero personal space.

So one of the things about Orion is that his real face is sort of brutish and not traditionally handsome (the eyebrows are WILD), but he uses his Mother Box (like a living pocket computer that loves you) to make himself look more like the people of New Genesis. In #8, he gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with his half-brother Kalibak that nearly kills them both, and Mother Box can't maintain the illusion (and also his face is, like, pulverized). And then this happens:

I WEEP. LIGHTRAY LOVES YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE, ORION.

New Gods was canceled soon after this, but when Kirby returned a decade later, he went all in on the homoerotic devotion. So Orion goes to Apokolips to kill his dad and rescue his mom, and who do you think follows him?

That second panel makes me laugh so hard. "Here, honey, you forgot your Scooty Puff Jr!"

My favorite thing about this is that Lightray is playing dumb. He shot at Orion earlier and then said something vague about missing on purpose...but he didn't:

HE REALLY TRIED TO WOUND ORION ENOUGH TO STOP HIS SUICIDE MISSION. And the way he just shuts his eyes and takes Orion's anger because he doesn't care what happens as long as he saves his friend's life...! (Orion doesn't hurt him, they just touch each other a lot.)

Anyway they argue for multiple pages, with Orion insisting that Lightray go home and Lightray insisting that he stay, until finally:

This is so intensely romantic and also so unintentionally hilarious that I can't stand it. The homoerotic gazing into one another's eyes and then the stupid mutual thumbs up! Whatever is going on with that closeup of Orion in the second panel! I die!

...And you know who else dies? Orion! Or at least he comes very close (it's unclear), but is rescued by a freedom fighter named Himon and nursed back to health by Himon and his daughter Bekka. We get a little romance between Orion and Bekka, but we also get Lightray coming to visit:

That is some FULL CONTACT wrestling, boys. Orion pinning Lightray to the ground while telling him it's good to see him is so much, but the fourth panel is even mucher. My goodness.

And then things get serious, because they both believe they are going to die in the upcoming battle (they don't), so they bid each other farewell and Lightray leaves, and then:

Orion yells after Lightray how smart and funny he is and then collapses in despair because his friend is gone. "HOW LIKE A WANDERING STAR HE SEEMS." Oh my god, Orion.

That's it for Kirby, so I'll move on to other writers and artists, but I want to clear that I'm only sharing the most intense scenes between them. There are so many panels, from Kirby and others, of Lightray faithfully following Orion around, joyously welcoming him back to New Genesis, gently teasing him, and talking about how brave and noble he is. And of Orion only smiling for Lightray, going feral when he gets hurt, and telling him he's too good and pretty for battle. And of the two of them touching each other. A lot.

Literally just two random examples. THEY DO THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME.

The next really big moment comes in New Gods (1995), where the Source (basically God/Heaven) becomes corrupted and Lightray goes evil and Orion has to beat him up to stop him and I will never ever ever recover from these pages:

"You want the beast? Do you like it?" on its own is...hoo boy, SOMETHING. But it is eclipsed by the tremulous "Maybe...maybe if I can just hold him" and Orion gathering Lightray up in his arms while telling him he loves him. LIKE. THIS IS SO MUCH. (P.S. Lightray's fine don't worry. And yes, he does want the beast.)

Then we get to Orion (PLEASE read this comic) and the biggest smile Orion has ever smolt:

Look at how happy he is!!! You need to understand that his mother died in his arms ten minutes ago and he's still like "Lightray! Omg hi!!!" (To be fair, his mother was terrible.) Plus bonus unnecessary touching, Lightray's love language being gifts, and Orion giggling and twirling his hair while going "Omg you're so smart."

(Also, when Lightray mentions his "brief but troubling visit" to Apokolips in the second panel, what's not saying is that he put on a silly disguise and went to see a fortuneteller to try to figure out if Orion's mom was lying about Darkseid not being his real dad (she was; again, she was terrible), and when the fortuneteller is like "You DARE come to Apokolips?!" he goes "I would dare anything for my friend!" I know you would, honey. I know you would.)

The next bit requires some explanation. So, as briefly as possible: Orion kills Darkseid (or so he thinks), takes over Apokolips, and tries very hard to change it for the better. He also accidentally gains possession of the Anti-Life Equation, the formula Darkseid is always searching for that eradicates free will, and gradually is driven to use it to FORCE everyone on Apokolips to be good. And Earth. And New Genesis.

Eventually, Orion is seemingly killed, but actually he's been teleported somewhere unfathomably far away, where he realizes what he's done and sinks into suicidal despair. In the midst of this, he manages to both destroy the Anti-Life Equation AND save all of reality (and nearly die in the process), but he still thinks that because he used the Equation, he's irredeemable and doesn't deserve to exist.

So when he's teleported back to Earth and captured by a human who blinds him and rigs him up to a torture device so that he can drain Orion's life force and use it to be eternally youthful, Orion just...lets it happen. Because he thinks he deserves it. For SEVEN MONTHS.

But eventually he's like "Wait...I deserve this, but probably whatever is being done with my energy is not good and I should stop it." He tries to escape but only manages to let out a single scream.

Luckily, Lightray has been searching for him nonstop for those seven months, despite the face that Orion is supposed to be dead. And then we get this:

To be clear: this is sweet, gentle Lightray absolutely obliterating the men who kept Orion in the torture device.

Nakey.

Lightray gives Orion the crushed remnants of his wrist cuffs, and Orion does a magical girl transformation about it:

For everyone playing along at home, that's the second time Orion has canonically told Lightray that he loves him.

Anyway, Orion goes off to get revenge on the guy who did this to him (it's very satisfying, please read Orion), and then he's depressed some more until he has some brotherly bonding time with Scott and finally feels well enough to go back to New Genesis. His last line of dialogue in the series is "For it is late, and the sunrise and friend Lightray await us in the gleaming city of the gods." OKAY!

Tragically, almost every New Gods appearance after this is complete dogshit, although there is a great moment in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (a Rebirth series) where they need information from Orion but he's comatose so they bring in a telepath and the only word he can get out of Orion's mind is "Lightray." I'LL BET.

IN CONCLUSION: Orion and Lightray love each other so so much and I believe it is honoring Jack Kirby's legacy to think about them smooching. It's what the King would have wanted!