dirtylittlething.bsky.social
Meet me there where it 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 closes
Meet me there where it's never 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤
All is fair in 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖, oh-oh-oh
ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪, are you coming ?
______________
roleplay. written by berry.
cw for mature/sensitive themes.
pfp by @/daumilk.
5,747 posts
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284 following
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rake his nails down Vander’s back, to cling, to pull. But he keeps up his struggle, pretending like he still wants to escape, even as his body says otherwise.
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defiant but only managing near breathlessness. “Like hell I'd give you that satisfaction...”
His tail betrays him, though, curling around Vander’s thigh, holding him close. Fingers flexing, Sil is [ itching ] to —
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feeling, but he hides it behind a glare, sharp and piercing.
Then Vanderbites down, and a strangled noise escapes him—something between a gasp and a moan. His back arches instinctively, his head falling back to expose more of his neck despite himself. “Y-You wish,” he stammers, trying to sound —
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the other's solid weight. His face flushes, a heat blooming in his cheekshe can’t quite fight off.
Albeit with some difficulty, he frees his tail, smacking it against Vander’s side. “Get off me, you goddamn perverted mutt—” he growls, voice wavering just enough to reveal the excitement he’s —
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Vander's grip, wrists pinned tight beneath those massive hands. It’s useless, of course, but he tries anyway, baring his teeth in defiance. “Cocky fuckin’ bastard,” he hisses, legs wriggling to try and find leverage, but all he manages is to grind himself further into the cushion beneath —
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Sil’s eyes widen, a surprised little noise tumbling from his lips as Vander's weight presses him into the couch, leaving him no room to properly fight back. Not that he actually [ wants ] to get away—but he’s never been one to make things easy, now has he?
He squirms again and again, testing —
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would looove to hear about how big, bad Vander spent his alone time whining [ my ] name.” He grins, fangs flashing. “Don’t test me, honey.”
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pricks at his skin. “You do that again, and I’ll start tellin’ everyone about what I heard,” he threatens, voice smoother now but laced with mischief. “I’m sure the boys at the bar —
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out his arm, the slow curling of fingers, a silent threat.
Sil stiffens. His ears flatten. Instinct kicks in fast. He shifts away before Vander can grab him again, tail curling protectively around his own waist. “You better not.” His tone comes out meaner than he intends. He glares, even as heat —
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hand comes up to his beard like he can hide behind it. It’s fucking adorable.
“That so? Then why’d you jump like a scared little pup, huh?” His tail sways, eyes full of wicked amusement as Vander flops onto the couch, acting all dismissive. [ Transparent. ]
Then he sees it—how Vander stretches —
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Sil watches Vander freeze, his smirk stretching wider. 𝘎𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘢. His ears twitch at the sound of that throat-clearing, the telltale flick of Vander’s tongue over his teeth—oh, he’s [ flustered ]. He’s trying to bury it under gruffness, but Sil [ knows ]. The way he avoids eye contact, the way his —
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swaying but never quite falling. “You’re right, this is awesome!”
His gaze darts back to Viktor, the enthusiasm dimming just a bit. “But, uh... how long is this gonna last? You know, before I start climbing the furniture and knocking over cups just ‘cause they’re there?”
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then forward, and before he quite realizes what he’s doing, he hops onto a low workbench. His feet easily find their place among beakers and tools, and he crouches with perfect poise, tail working to keep him steady.
“Ha! That’s—whoa, okay, I like this.” He tests it more, rising to his feet, —
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his sense of smell. “Not bad, just... a lot.” His tail twitches, and he tries to stand still, but every shift in weight feels different now. Like his body wants to flow into the movement, a natural, liquid grace he’s never had before. “Balance, huh? Does that mean I can—”
He steps back, —
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Sil’s nose wrinkles as he takes a cautious sniff of the air. At first, it’s the usual mix of earth, metal, and the faint acrid tang of whatever Viktor had been brewing—but as he focuses, more layers peel back.
“Okay, that’s... kinda weird,” he admits, rubbing at his nose as if it might dull —
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( FAILED. )
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gaze equal parts playful and challenging. “But really—you didn’t even [ try ] to deny it, huh?” He smirks again. “Guess you [ did ] have fun, hm? Missed me too much? I wasn’t even gone [ that ] long~”
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scared him, and—here I am. He's got mink stuff, hah.” He gestures vaguely with his hand before resting it over his stomach, drumming his fingers idly. “And I’ve got these.” His ears flick for emphasis. “And that tail that's [ sensitive ], asshole.”
He watches Vander’s expression carefully, —
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cracks open his beer.
“You’re playing dirty, old man,” Sil mutters, rolling his shoulders as if he needs to shake off the persisting sensation. He waits until Vander takes a sip before he continues, voice lilting with casual ease. “To be short... Viktor was working on some scientific shit. I —
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a hand through his hair as he watches Vander walk toward the fridge, all casual, as if he didn’t just nearly fry every nerve in Sil’s new, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 appendage. It lashes once, twice, before going back over the armrest. He schools his expression into something composed—bored, even—as Vander —
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an intentional little tug that has something instinctive shooting down his back. His ears press flat for a fraction of a second, his tail giving the smallest twitch in his grasp before Vander releases him, turning away as if he hadn’t just done that.
𝘖𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳.
Sil huffs sharply, dragging —
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and steam fills Sil’s nose, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.
“I didn’t [ spy ] on you, just happened to [ hear ] what you were up t—”
Vander’s hand closes around his tail.
The poor kitty’s breath catches. His entire body tenses as the grip tightens, just enough to be felt, —
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Sil’s ears twitch at the sudden shift in Vander’s demeanor, amusement flickering in his eyes even as he watches the man stalk closer. The heat of Vander’s presence washes over him before he even leans in, bracketing him in with broad arms, water still dripping from his skin. The scent of soap —
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the way he [ looks ] just freshly satisfied. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “More importantly—” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Did you have fun in there, big guy?”
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his waist. Sil watches the flinch, the frown, the way amusement creeps in right after, and he snorts, tipping his head back against the couch. “Not a long story, but it [ is ] a story.” He lets his gaze slide over the older man, taking in the damp skin, the lingering flush, —
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in a few long gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His tail lazily drapes over the armrest as he crosses one leg over the other, feigning the picture of relaxation.
And then Vander steps out, steam curling around him, water trailing down broad shoulders, a towel slung low on —
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trembles lightly. He—he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be listening, but [ shit ], that’s…
The moment the water shuts off, reality slams back into him. He startles, eyes widening, and scurries back to the couch faster than he’d care to admit. Settling in just in time, he downs the rest of his beer —
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his ear pressed against the wood, heart drumming in his chest. His ears twitch at every sound, hyperaware—[ too ] aware. And then—
His name, whispered, needy. A shiver licks up his spine, and he bites down hard on his lower lip, his own breath coming just a little too sharp. His tail —
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under water.
The realization dawns on him slow, like a spark catching fire. He lowers the beer, his free hand flexing at his side as he listens, really listens. Vander’s breathing grows more uneven, hitching, then breaking apart. Sil doesn’t even realize he’s moving until he’s right by the door, —
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Sil lifts the bottle to his lips, just about to take another slow sip when his ears—his damn ears—pick up a sound that has him pausing mid-drink. At first, it’s nothing unusual. But then, there’s [ more ]. A sharp intake of breath. A shift in pace. The unmistakable sound of slick movements —
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*BISEXUAL
me @ @noxusbrute.bsky.social
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letting himself sink into the comfort of the familiar, waiting for Vander to come out of the bathroom. No rush.
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stretching out on it with a quiet sigh.
His ears flick at every little sound—the distant hum of pipes, muffled conversations coming from the street, even the subtle way the steady rush of water shifts when Vander moves under it. He takes a slow sip of his drink, —
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is just—more. More sound, more scent, more feeling. It’s useful, sure, but also exhausting in ways he never could’ve anticipated.
After taking off his boots, he silently pads to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge to grab a beer. The cap popped off, he goes to settle on the couch, —
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"All it'd take is a little SPLASH!"
Firmly hugging the Noxian's arm. Cheek lightly rubbing against his bicep.
"Drinking it probably works too. You'd have to ask Viktor, if you wanna try your luck. S'one of his experiments."
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"Bear. Definitely bear."
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🗡️ FILTHY MUTT KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY BOY