RawringRyu
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A series of lewd happenings that occur when Greg invites Alex over to his for dinner.
Bookmarked by RawringRyu
27 Dec 2025
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It had been a spur of the moment purchase.
Greg’s got a fake name for when he orders weird shit to his house. When the box arrived last week, coming for a David Timms, he’d been so embarrassed to be ordering fucking sex toys to his fucking house like a fucking kid, but now he’s through that and into the delightful little vignettes that the fucking thing has inspired.
“What,” Alex’s voice actually sounds a little hoarse, and oh, what a delight that is, to know he can pull a sound like that out of a man as artfully constructed as this, “What exactly was your plan with… this?”
Greg doesn’t have to look around to know that Alex is plucking at the bubble wrap and the instructions, discarding both in the corner of the box, feeling the leeching of the cold metal base, the odd, insincere rubber of the black silicone where it swells to fatness and thins again.
“Well,” he says, in a slow, patient voice, “I thought I’d take you home and fuck you, and then tomorrow morning I’d put that in you and we’d go to work.”
Bookmarked by RawringRyu
25 Dec 2025
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Curiosity piqued, he taps into Alex's photo.
Again, it's totally innocuous on its own; it's Alex's hand, held out in the white background of the lab at the filming house, holding a loop of hot pink electrician's tape, the sort you get in B&Q if you're the kind of man that paints his own edgings, or skirtings, or fixtures or whatever. Skinny, the plastic end slightly white where someone has pulled it with force. Greg can't help but see the marks on Alex's wrist, though, soft pink strips of skin, overlapping, newly freed from mysterious confines.
someone tie u up?
tape u up?
with that?
looks like it hurtBookmarked by RawringRyu
24 Nov 2025
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Greg catches Alex in his dressing room and things quickly take a perverted turn.
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Greg catches Alex in his dressing room, and all of Alex's dreams come true.Bookmarked by RawringRyu
21 Nov 2025
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It’s always been about sex a little bit, and Greg’s known that from the start. Almost from the start. It doesn’t matter – he’d known that going in, and he’d still signed up, name on the dotted line, because he doesn’t care.
“You can do pretty much anything you want to me,” Alex had said at the time, before the thing was even fully commissioned, back when it was in that uncomfortable time where a lot of people had committed a lot of time and money to getting this made, but there was a high chance – a high chance – that someone up above would pull the plug, and everyone would have to slink home with their tails between their legs.
“You can do pretty much anything you want to me,” Alex begs now, lying with his shirt unbuttoned, open by his sides, his trousers down to his ankles, a makeshift blindfold (Greg’s scarf, slung down from the edge of the door) around his eyes, his hands knotted together behind his head, kept in place with hot-pink electrician’s tape, “Greg, you can do – you can do-”
“Yeah,” Greg says, hands on his hips, surveying Alex with pleasure, “You think I don’t know that?”
Bookmarked by RawringRyu
12 Nov 2025