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luxaofhesperides · 10 months

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You know how Spiderman has 'canon events'? And how Gwen would always die? How about in every universe Duke exists in, there would always be Danny. And every time they fall in love! But whenever Duke tells/hints at him being The Signal, Danny suffers an accident or dies.

Like let's say in the DC vs Vampires universe, Duke tells Danny he's Signal and then a few days later he gets turned into a vampire and Duke has no choice but to kill him.

Or something like that yknow?

Earth 26.

The undercity is full of life. People from above refuse to understand it, staunch in their beliefs that the undercity is full of crime and sickness, drugs and filth. But the people down there are more human than any of the ones Duke has met up top.

Though Bruce Wayne can try to bring Duke in all he likes, there’s no denying that Duke doesn’t belong. His heart will always be in the undercity, where he was born and grew up and lived and lost so much.

The undercity is where Danny is.

Away from the blue skies filled with blimps, tucked beneath the towering buildings and clocktowers and elevated rails for trains leaving trails of smoke through the city, there in the cramped spaces and dark alleys, is Danny.

He ducks through familiar alleys, cutting across perilously stacked homes and hopping over railings to get to the Fenton Lab faster.

He’s been excited all day, heart thrumming with anticipation, as he returns to his roots and seeks out Danny. Today is the day he’s going to come clean, tell Danny everything: his feelings, his powers, his identity as The Signal, fighting crime in all parts of the city to keep Gotham safe. He’s sure Danny suspects something is going on with him, likely has already guessed at everything he wants to talk about, but Danny deserves the truth.

It is his inventions that help Duke save people, after all.

Finding the front door of the Fenton lab is always a challenge. Metal scraps and materials stripped from vehicles litter the front of the building from people leaving all their unwanted things with the Fentons. Miscellaneous inventions and tools are left scattered around as well, creating a labyrinth that Duke has to traverse every time he wants to see Danny while he’s working with his parents.

It takes a few minutes, but Duke manages it, pushing open the door after a quick knock.

“Danny? Are you there?”

He can hear something from the lower floor, a strange, high pitched whirring noise. His powers kick in and suddenly he can see people rushing around the room, shouting in voices that he won’t be able to hear until the time comes. He can see himself, crying.

Duke’s heart drops.

“Danny? Danny!”

He runs down the stairs, suddenly terrified that he’s too late. Something is going to happen to Danny. It has to be Danny, because no one else is home with him; that’s why Duke asked to meet in the Lab, to have some privacy while the other Fentons were out.

The noise is louder, too loud to hear over, and Duke rushes into the Lab just in time to see some strange circle of metal spark with electricity. Danny stands right before, staring up at it.

“Danny!” Duke shouts as loud as he can, and Danny startles, then turns around.

Their eyes meet just as the machine finishes turning on, the metal circle ripping open with a thunderous noise, and Duke can do nothing but watch as it sends electricity and some other energy racing through Danny’s body.

It lasts just a brief moment, and then Danny is crumpling to the ground, eyes closed as the machine settles. The swirling pit of white and green stares out at him and Duke knows without a doubt that Danny is dead. . . .

Earth 41.

Duke’s been acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.

Danny’s not one to go around poking at people’s secrets, especially not his boyfriend’s, but he knows something big is going on. He’s not worried that Duke is cheating on him, but he can see the injuries he comes back with some days, citing all the unrest and the resurgence in crimes following Batman’s death.

He wonders if Duke is going out each night for street fighting, forcing all his emotions into his fists until they’re beaten bloody. Batman’s death hit him hard, and Danny has no idea what to do to help him.

They’re both stressed, on edge and scared, but they don’t fight as much as he expected. Admittedly, it’s hard to fight where they’re always spending time apart.

No longer. Tonight, Danny is determined to get to the bottom of things so he can help Duke with whatever he’s going through. He even texted Jazz to get some tips about communication and helping someone through grief. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

Right at 3AM, the window slides open.

“Welcome back, Duke,” Danny says, watching as Duke flinches, then sighs as he closes the window.

“What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I decided to hang out here and wait for you. But you’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Sorry, Danny, but I’m really tired. Can this wait?”

Anger bubbles in his gut and Danny takes a deep breath to force it down. “I’ve been waiting. If you keep pushing this conversation off, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Duke slumps against the window, rubbing a hand against his face, looking exhausted. “Look, Danny, things have been getting real bad, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”

“What’s going on, Duke? What are you so worried about?”

“It’s… The guy who killed Batman. His name is Karma, and I’ve been going after him.”

“You’ve been what?!” Danny shouts, shooting to his feet. “Duke, are you insane? Anyone who can kill Batman is bad news, there’s no way anyone short of like, Superman, can stop him! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Someone has to stop him! And I can do something to help, okay? I’ve been helping the other bats fight him. I can do this.”

Danny clenches his fists, feeling frost crack against his skin. “You could have told me,” he says. “You know I can help, too. You’re not the only one with powers.”

“I can’t endanger you like that, Danny.”

“So you leave me in the dark instead? You would have rather I wait for you forever while you never come back because you got yourself killed running into a situation you can’t get out of? You think I would have been any safer not knowing? Then clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” He’s shouting by the end of it, shaking with fear and rage and so many things it all becomes a tangled mess in his head.

“I really think we should have this conversation in the morning,” Duke says, eyeing Danny warily. It’s probably just because he’s been out all night hunting Karma, so used to being attacked while he goes out to try to save a city that even Batman couldn’t lift from the darkness, but that doesn’t stop the stab of hurt from going through his heart. Danny has done his best to be safe for Duke, to be human and comforting and strong enough to protect him.

And Duke is looking at him like he could be at threat.

“Whatever,” Danny mutters, shaking his head. “You’ll talk to me in the morning by saying nothing but how you need to do whatever this is and then you’ll leave and we’ll both be unhappy. Great. Can’t wait.”

“Danny—”

“Bye, Duke.”

Danny’s up and out of the apartment before Duke can take more than a few steps towards him. He zips up his jacket and pulls the hood over his head, taking the steps two at a time to get to street level. It’s dark and quiet outside, save for the distant police sirens, and Danny barely spares a glance around him before he’s making his own way home, sure that no one would still be out at that time.

He should have been more careful. More vigilant. Not so lost in his hurt feelings.

But there’s no time for that when he’s pulled into an alleyway, knife at his throat.

A man in a black helmet, face fully covered, stares down at him. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, digging the knife in a little deeper, “What’s the Signal’s little lover doing out so late at night?”

Signal?

…Duke. His boyfriend who always disappears in late hours, blows off dates when something big is going down in Gotham, who is trying to pick up the pieces following Batman’s death.

And here is Karma, the very man Duke is searching for, pulling Danny away into the dark.

He only has a brief moment to regret storming off, for not being more patient with Duke, for not paying attention and avoiding Karma, before the knife is pulled away, tossed into the air, and the hilt comes down hard on his temple, and it is a long, long time before he is seen again.

The Signal does not find him alive. . . .

Earth 53.

The apocalypse isn’t kind even on the best of days. But today it might be coming close to something resembling kindness as Duke approaches the skeletal remains of Gotham. It’s been years since he’s been back here, moving with the Robins across the United States just trying to survive. They’d constantly been moving, searching for other survivors and food and shelter and any sign of hope they could get.

There hadn’t been much anywhere, too much devastation across the country for anyone to even think of rebuilding. Even now, nature is just starting to recover, little green shoots pushing up through concrete rubble.

This world isn’t one for superheroes anymore. Supervillains aren’t around either. Everyone is either dead or barely getting themselves through each day; but humanity is still around and wildlife is beginning to recover.

Duke doesn’t know who’s left in Gotham these days. He suspects Oracle is still there, somewhere, helping reconnect telephone wires and setting up internet and electricity. Lights have been flickering on steadily as the Robins made their way into New Jersey and the sight lifted their spirits so much they decided to keep traveling through the night.

No one in his group has a working phone any more, but the possibility of getting that piece of the old world back excites them all.

By the time they reach the outskirts of the ruined city, the entire group is nearly buzzing with energy, speaking in hushes whispers that do nothing to hide the elation in their voices. Gotham was everyone’s home, once. They’re all happy to be back, regardless of what they’re walking into.

Duke volunteers to go scouting with a few others to find a good place to settle in for a bit as they reacquaint themselves with the city. Even before the end of the world, it was never a good idea to go blind into Gotham.

Much of the city is still abandoned, and concrete rubble carry faded graffiti that show the remains of a gang long gone. The few people he see in the distance are quick to hide and disappear and Duke himself is too wary to approach them. But as he gets closer to the heart of Gotham, picking his way through destroyed streets, he sees more and more signs of life, people who don’t hide, weak lights in hastily constructed shelters.

No one attacks him as he wanders closer. In fact, a few exchange nervous glances then approach him, quietly asking if he’s coming from outside Gotham and what news he brings of the outside world.

Duke tells them about how Chicago is gone completely, unable to be saved at all, but there are settlements all along the shores of the Great Lakes. He tells them of the traveling groups he’s met who rotate through a few chosen states and are willing to take in new members. He tells them of someone who has an entire farm up and running again, full of chickens and cows and sheep and goat and horses, on top of all the crop they can grow. The location of the farm is kept secret and carefully protected, but they give away seeds and young animals for anyone wanting to raise their own.

The news gathers more and more people around Duke, eager to listen, and they’re more than happy to update Duke on what’s happened in Gotham.

The Bats aren’t around as much anymore, but at least two of them are still in Gotham, helping people from the shadows. They’re fixing everything up as best they can, and most people live in or around Robinson Park where Ivy, who survived, grows food and shelter for everyone in exchange for protection and companionship. The Riddler turned from making death traps and taking hostages to creating new technology and inventions to make life a little easier, taking in a crew of assistants to learn from him.

That is to say nothing of the ghosts.

Gotham is full of them now, walking among the living as if they never died. They help people and stick with loved ones who lost them and fly through the air to deliver things with ease. It’s nothing that Duke has ever seen before, and he wonders how many people who died in the apocalypse chose to stay in such a ruined world.

He begins to head back to the Robins, mind racing with everything he’s learned, when he sees Danny.

Danny, his friend once, who he loved dearly and didn’t quite realize it was deeper than friendship until after the world ended. Danny, who was always sleepy and soft and smiling, cracking bad jokes and lifting Duke’s spirits whenever he felt down. Danny, who was lively and dreamed of going to space to sit among the stars.

Danny, who is dead.

He never got the chance to tell Danny he was the Signal, but he thinks Danny knew anyways. He could ask now, put that lingering thought to rest, but it was one of the few things left unsaid between them, the only thing he had of Danny for all these years, and he doesn’t want to let go of it yet.

Danny hasn’t seen him yet. Duke could go to him, speak to his ghost, have some part of him back in his life.

But it wouldn’t be the same. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to tie Danny, who is free from the pain and misery of the living, to Duke, who is never going to stay in Gotham permanently.

He misses Danny so much he feels hollowed out and empty, but he knows this is for the best.

Duke turns, pretending not to see him, and walks away. . . .

Earth 78.

Duke was…

Duke was important to him, Danny thinks. He can’t remember much, not after everything (electricity, screaming, pain pain pain, heavy darkness, a spark, hist chest cut open, where is ___? Why won’t he save—) but without any memory of what his life was like back then, his feelings are without context and easily ignored.

Wraith follows Shrike from a distance, watching as he drops into an alley to kill a rapist. Wraith feels nothing about this, for caring is not in his duties. He is instructed to simply keep Shrike alive and assist in his plans, whatever they may be. Wraith does not care about killing.

Danny, tucked away deep inside the mask, shivers and cries, wishing to hide away and say enough, please, that’s enough, just stop please stop stop stop stop—

Batman crosses the rooftops, a figure of darkness across the city’s skies. The Signal, his second oldest companion, travels through the shadows by his side until they land on the building Wraith stands on.

The yellow of Signal’s armor is familiar and it feels safe but Wraith knows better. Talia and Ra’s have taught him to see past his emotions, to force away any sentiment and grapple with the cold hard truth. This is the truth: they are here to hurt him and Shrike, because they are dangerous killers and dangerous killers are dealt with swiftly and painfully in Gotham.

They can do as they please to him. They will not take Shrike.

He engages Batman in battle first, easily slipping past his defense by going intangible, freezing his boots to the ground and icing his fists together. The Signal slips away at first, leaving Batman behind to try to get around Wraith, sending shadows towards Shrike who leaps away deftly, dodging them with ease as he leaves the beheaded body behind.

Wraith grabs Signal before he can fully sink into a shadow and tosses him back, then flies to Shrike, picking him up and getting them away as quickly as possible.

“They found us faster than I thought,” Shrike says. His voice carries something in it that Wraith doesn’t recognize, but it makes his heart feel heavy.

“We’re done for the night,” Wraith returns, voice low and hoarse. He died screaming and even the Lazarus Pits weren’t able to fix the damage done to his vocal chords.

He lets his invisibility wash over them both, and they disappear into the night. The safehouse they set up, far away from the one Talia prepared for them, is small but comfortable. It’s secure, everything created and coded by Tim, which means Danny can relax inside the walls of the small apartment.

Shrike helps him shed his gear, putting it away carefully. Wraith becomes Danny and he watches as Shrike becomes Tim.

Gone is the ruthless efficiency, the quickness to cut down the scum of Gotham without remorse. Instead, he’s pale and tired, eyes still a faint green from the linger remains of the Lazarus Pit that brought him back from the dead, but there is no madness in him. Only a coldness that came long before his death, unwanted by Damian, the first of Batman’s vigilante partners, who refused to see him as part of the family or even as a hero at all. Duke had already gone to work with other teams since then and never met Tim properly for more than a few minutes.

But he knew Danny. They must have been close. If seeing The Signal sends such a sharp stab of pain in his heart, it must be for a reason. But the memories are long gone, and with them, any desire to be close to him again.

They never do well after a run in with the Bats. Though they have won every fight they’ve had, Tim often retreats to bed in order to hide his tears and Danny is left alone, lost, and wishing he had stayed dead.

Tonight is no different. Tim is making a difference as Shrike, striking fear in the hearts of Gotham’s criminals. Crime has gone down in Crime Alley, his chosen territory of the city, killing as many people as needed before they finally get the message to be better people. Tim is also still only eighteen and had spent three years with the League of Assassins before returning to Gotham and seeing that his place in the Bats is erased and forgotten and replaced by the well-loved Jason.

He only stays in Gotham to kill the people who sold him off to the Joker and laughed as he died slowly and painfully. Once the Joker is dead, he’ll leave Gotham and disappear for good.

Danny will follow him. He has no life now and no other direction. And with Tim hiding under the covers, Danny can do nothing but feel his own skin crawl at the need to get away from everything that connects him to his life Before.

It’s a terrible idea, but he goes out again, heading into Otisberg, where he once lived. Only a raised hood conceals his face; the expressionless mask he usually wears is gone, and Wraith feels far away from him.

He hears the Signal land behind him some time later. It could be minutes or hours; time slips by Danny easily these days no matter how hard he tries to hold onto the minutes passing by.

“Wraith,” Signal says, and his voice is hard. “Where’s Shrike? Out terrorizing the rest of Gotham?”

Danny doesn’t reply. He stares out into the city lights, a cold emptiness growing inside his chest.

“Well, if you’re going to just sit there, then I suppose you don’t mind if I take you in to let Batman interrogate you. You’ve been causing a lot of trouble around here, and we don’t take kindly to murderous masks in Gotham.”

He doesn't resist as Signal grabs his wrists, hauling him up from where he was sitting on the ledge. Danny allows Signal to turn him around, shadows binding his wrists together and pulling down his hood.

The Signal sucks in a sharp breath, hands falling limp to his side. “Danny?”

Danny doesn’t respond.

“This better not be a joke, I swear to God. If you’re just wearing his face to fuck with me, I’m going to kill you, Batman’s rules be damned. Say something already!”

Danny looks up into the visor of Signal’s helmet. He opens his mouth and a hoarse whine slips out. “I knew you,” he manages to whispers. “I knew you. And then I died.”

The Signal flinches, then reaches up and pulls his helmet off. “Tell me something only we would know. Anything.”

“I don’t… remember. I wanted you to save me. I don’t think you did.”

“If this isn’t really you, Danny,” Duke says, voice thick with tears, “Then it’s a really fucked up joke.”

Danny looks at Duke, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What to say. Wraith only knows how to follow and protect and take orders. Danny doesn’t know how to live anymore. There is nothing he can do.

And then, as he stares as Duke, a memory slides into place, fuzzy but there.

“Arcade on eighth street,” he whispers, and Duke’s eyes go wide. “That was going to be our first date.”

“It was,” Duke says. There’s a light in his eyes now, something that looks like hope and the sight of it makes Danny sick to his stomach.

“I’m dead, Duke. Danny is dead. There is only Wraith now. Let the dead go, and stay away so we don’t have to kill you. I… want you to live.”

The shadows have loosened, still wrapped around his wrists but as a caress instead of a restraint. It doesn’t take any strength to pull out of them and drop off the roof, falling towards the ground. Danny lets gravity take hold of him for a few moments, then goes invisible and flies away just as Duke grapples down and searches for him desperately.

He can hear Duke calling his name, then calling in Batman and Nightwing, but his voice fades away before Danny can make out what they’re saying.

Not that it matters. Whether tomorrow or further down the line, he and Tim will leave Gotham and disappear for good.

The dead cannot stay with the living, and so they will go.

There’s nothing left for them here, anyways. . . .

Earth 0.

Duke has had his fair share of strange dreams. It comes with the trauma and the powers, a terrible mix that leave him shaken and rattled when he wakes up, gasping for breath.

But instead of fear, his latest series of dreams leave him with a deep-seated feeling of grief. The details fade away quickly once he’s awake, but he can remember bits and pieces of worlds that looks so different from the one he lives in, and all of them have a single constant: Danny.

Danny, whose face he never remembers when he wakes. Danny, whose name is permanently etched into his mind. Danny, who he loves and loses every single night.

Danny, someone he’s never met.

Dick asks him if he’s alright the next time he’s in Gotham, eating breakfast in the manor with him and Tim. He considers lying, then tells him about the dreams and how frequent they are, snapshots of other lives where there is someone important to him that he can never save. Tim, who he thought was sleeping with his eyes half open, looks up and mumbles that it might be another universe.

After a few cups of coffee, Tim is awake enough to ramble on about the multiverse, pulling up reports from the Batcomputer on his phone to show Duke how many of them have had run ins with alternate universes.

“So you’re saying that Danny might be here? In this world?”

Tim shrugs. “Well, maybe. If he’s the only constant, then I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’re here, so is he.”

“But he always dies!”

“Don’t worry, Duke,” Dick says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “If you do find him, then you’ve got all of his to help keep him safe.”

“Do you want me to find him? If you give me a description, I can probably narrow it down to a few people in the United States. One of them might be him.”

Duke considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. If we’re supposed to meet, then we will. No point in rushing it.”

“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that had been that. Nothing to really worry about, but the dreams continue and Duke keeps waking up grieving and so love with Danny, carrying the feelings of his alternates over to his own reality. At some point, he wishes that he and Danny would never cross paths in this world, if only so he doesn’t have to lose him.

But he wants to meet him. The universe says Danny is important to him; why else would he be part of his life in every world?

The thought never leaves him. It’s always in the back of his mind as he goes about his life, going to school and fighting crime. He finds himself lingering in the streets, trying to see everyone’s faces, listening for that familiar voice.

It takes over a year before he hears someone say, “Danny!” as he’s patrolling as Signal.

He bends the light around him, going invisible, and searches for the people shouting the name of the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. It takes some time, but his eyes land on a tall, red haired woman fussing over a boy with black hair and blue eyes, leaning down some so she could reach his face.

He can’t hear what they say with the distance between them, but he knows with absolute clarity that he’s looking at Danny.

His Danny.

Duke takes a step forward, ready to drop his invisibility, letting the light escape his grasp, the pauses when he sees the bright smile on his face.

This Danny is safe. He is alive and laughing and is with someone he cares about.

This Danny has a life and a future and as much as Duke wants to know why his alternate selves love Danny so much, it isn’t worth Danny’s life.

Heart breaking, Duke steps back and watches as they walk away, disappearing into the crowded streets.

He stares after them long after they’ve disappeared from sight, then grapples to a rooftop and releases his hold on the light. He sinks to his knees, trying to breathe through the grief that runs through him, and taps a pattern into his comms to signal that he’s ending his patrol early.

It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the best. This will keep Danny alive.

Danny always dies because of Duke. Someway, somehow, whenever they meet, the bell tolls and Danny’s death quickly approaches. It happens in every world, in the many, many dreams he’s had looking into a moment of their lives.

But not this one.

In this one, Duke will save Danny by doing the only thing he can: making sure they never meet.

It’s for the best. It has to be. . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was sooo fun to write i love multiverses and reincarnation and things like that #dont know much abt dc multiverses so i looked them up and did numbers that werent listed in the wiki #in order its:#steampunk. karma kills batman au. post apoc. reverse robins. and then canon #hope you enjoy!! i really enjoyed writing this and the reverse robins one has my mind spinning with ideas #thank you for the prompt!!

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epiclamer · 10 months

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Lovesick - Laufey. From @thepenultimateword ‘s game. Song submitted by: @doublericenobeans

Hero hated mornings.

Aside from them being the worst time of day for waking up, they also never seemed to lose the feeling of the last night. The air felt the same, their things sat in the same spaces, and the only thing that ever seemed to change was what side of the bed was abandoned.

Not that that last part really mattered to the crime-stopper, but they somehow couldn’t seem to crush the spark of hope that sat in their heart. And with every new morning came the same-old shattered spirit.

God, what was the villain doing to them.

It seemed that no matter how high they held their head all day and all night, when the criminal was gone by morning it was always two steps back. It didn’t matter what the hero said before they fell asleep together, it didn’t matter if they begged the other to stay or to lay awake with them one morning. The villain had priorities, and attending to their nemesis’ wants was never at the top of their list. Hero eventually came to the conclusion that their name probably wasn’t on the list at all.

They hadn’t left the house that day.

And they didn’t feel like leaving today either, but they had used up all of their heartbreak-holidays now and another “sick day” would kick them from the force. So they hauled themselves up and into the kitchen, starting up their usual pot of coffee as they relished in the last of Villain’s scent on their pyjamas before dressing into their suit.

Maybe they could entice the villain for dinner tonight so they could meet at six instead of eight…

“So quick to get rid of me, huh?”

The hero spun around fast enough to give themselves whiplash and send them flying backwards into their closet. At the sight of the Villain, Hero wanted to die of embarrassment, they had always been the cool, calm and collected character and right now they were a blushing mess.

“Meaning the shirt, love.” Hero hadn’t even realized they had asked a question until the villain was answering it. And the villain huffed when the words got lost on the crime-stopper’s tongue once more.

“Wha… what are you doing here?” They gulped, audibly, before turning even redder, ears burning and eyes bulging.

Villain took a few steps closer, crowding the other against their closet doors. “I came to see you, obviously.”

“A-ah, yes, but uhm, why?”

The villain looked at them as if they were stupid. Had the hero’s pleas and begs finally worked? Had the villain had a last minute change of heart?

“You’re still wearing my emblem. It’s kind of my signature piece, yknow? Can’t really leave as ‘Villain’ if I’m missing the one thing that makes me, me.”

Oh.

The pin.

Of course, they had come back for the pin. Not to really see the hero nor be with them.

“Oh, yeah of course, sorry.” They unpinned it from their shirt, hoping that they hadn’t bent the metal in their sleep.

Villain smiled as the hero placed it in their hands, softly just like their lips, gently just like their kiss. “Thanks, love. Still on for tonight? Eight o’clock?”

“Y-yeah.”

They smirked, heading out the door before the hero could say anything else. “Perfect.” And the door shut behind them, shaking the raggedy apartment in its wake.

Hero hated mornings.

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shoezuki · 4 months

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Ok thinkin of that sampard superhero au i kinda mentioned way before so heres random words bout it cuz its in my head.

Gepard:

Gepard has a lot of prosthetics: his entire right arm and leg, his left foot, either his entire left arm or part of his arm im not sure.

He also has many metallic implants and synthetic organs: his right lung and part of his left, some of his ribs are metal on his right side. His right eye is a cybernetic implant, but looks like a 'normal' glass eye when inactive. His skull is reinforced with steal. Most of it is unknown to everyone but him/serval and lynx

(Likely due to a major incedent when younger: not entirely sure on it yet, but my thoughts is that due to his father's proclivity as a former police chief or current crooked attorney or something, a bomb was planted at their home. Lynx was young and approached it, gepard took the brunt of it to protect her when shoving her out of the way.)

His high tech cybernetics are extremely strong, all but his right arm are mistaken as real limbs (unless you get up close and personal and. Yknow. Tear into his cybernetics) his right arm generates ice and so it is much more visibly a cybernetic

His cybernetics are Extremely draining his body. They charge when he removes them at home, but they also draw power from his still existing/biological nervous system in order to properly send inputs through his nerves and be controlled by him properly. They are FUCKING HEAVY and he becomes exhausted if he wears them too long

Gepard, of course, constantly wears his cybernetics too long and sometimes collapses and falls unconcious under the weight of it

Much of his internal implants and cybernetics were funded by his father. Initially his father was desperate to save his 'only son' but once the full extent of his injuries became more clear, the father dismissed Gepard as a lost cause.

He still used gepard as a way to bolster his public image for a long time though.

Serval developed and created all of his advanced cybernetic attachments, including his eye

His eye operates as an analytical tool, allowing him to record visuals, enhance images, etcetc. As well as it sends live feed to a computer system lynx often operates. She usually communicates with him and assesses the state of his cybernetics while he's doing vigilante work.

Lynx has some burn scars as well

Gepard has no life outside of being a hero. He only really stops and puts on his everyday prosthetics when he pushes himself too far and serval forces him to rest. He lives in the apartment with serval above her workshop

Eventually gepard becomes very, very aware of how much serval is struggling. He tears up his cybernetics constantly and serval is draining her savings to get questionably legal supplies and materials to fix them. Not to mention he feels horrible for 'imposing' and living with her constantly since hes basically been sleeping on her couch for years

Serval argues against it but gepard eventually moves out and gets a night job at a gas station/convenience store. He doesnt stop or slow down with vigilantism though.

Gepards powers are largely super strength and enhanced reflexes. He manifests ice to create shields, barriers, and apprehend people. Serval modified his ice to also create a sort of frost shield around himself and others via touch. (Was an attempt to get gepard to protect himself more. He uses it for others but not himself though)

Hero name? Something like 'The Shield' or 'The Captain' and is given to him by journalists/fans. He doesnt pay attention to how hes seen by the public though

Gepard's 'costume' is extremely simple

Black leather with blue accents, his metallic arm, and a full coverage helment spmewhat like a motorcycle helmet. Its not flashy but people obsess over how 'mysterious' he is

Sampo:

Gepard's 'arch enemy'. One of a number of villains in Belobog that have powers and is absolutely the most elusive one

Is known as 'The Fool'. At one point newspapers kept calling him 'The Tall, Dark, Handsome Blue Magician' for a good couple weeks. No one knows how this kept slippin in right after editing and proofreading. Hes sometimes called 'The Magician' now though

Hes extremely flashy, dressed up like an over the top magician in purples and blues and golds, a checkered domino mask that makes his eyes white and a fucking top hat with feathers on it. the feathers change every time hes seen.

Hes the only current major villain in the city that has never been fully apprehended at any point. He lets himself get handcuffed sometimes or even led into police cars but he always vanishes at some point. Lets gepard get closer than anyone else

His powers are (assumed) to be teleportation, enhanced speed and reflexes, creating illusions, clairvoyance, conjuring objects, persuasion, etc. A lot is speculated due to his illusions

The reality of his powers is. Kinda fucked up. Hes extraordinarily powerful and capable of altering peoples minds and perceptions. He could to an extent make peopel do what he wants and feel certain ways, make them see things, only when he is present/can see the person. He rarely alters peoples minds or makes them do things though because thatd be too easy and really boring.

Some people are inherently more difficult to manipulate/influence to do things, though. Likely to do with mental fortitude and self confidence and how assured people are with themselves.

Sampo is completely incapable of making gepard do or feel things. He doesnt know why and is extremely intrigued by it. (Its the cybernetics.)

Sampos motives for anything he does are... unknown. Sometimes he interferes with other supervillains' exploits, sometimes he trashes cop cars and fills them with paper cranes, sometimes he steals from banks without ever being seen, other times he creates entire complex and showy museum heists without stealing a thing.

(A lot of what he steals actually ends up at nat's clinic, anonymously donated to orphanages or hospitals in the rough parts of Belobog. He volunteers in costume at a few senior homes sometimes and its become so normal no one there blinks an eye anymore or questions when hes bloody)

He has, absolutely, killed before. He has his own moral system, but its not obvious to general people. He never kills or hurts people if he isnt attacked first, but he isnt afraid to kill those he sees as corrupt or immoral, whether cops or other criminals.

Its assumed he heals quicker too, but its not true: he goes to Natasha

Natasha runs a clinic as well as Wildfire, which sampo is a very valuable informant to. Wildfire is an underground organization that essentially acts as the authorities in the Underground of belobog in place of cops.

Natasha doesnt exactly have the ability to heal. Rather, she can accelerate the condition of someones wounds: if she tends to someone first, her power will often heal them. Otherwise she can accelerate infections and cause death. If shes not careful she can make people bleed out in seconds.

Sampo is a conman still outside of being a villain. He carries out scams, forgery, etcetc. He leaves the more flashy and daring things to when hes under a mask

Most of it is that he is just... seeking out some thrills. But he also helps Nat and the people of the underworld, isnt afraid to target people and corporations ruthlessly. A lot of it is selfish, though. Hes quick to put on the mask and track down people whove wronged him

#superhero au #sampard #honkai star rail #in the bones #do i tag anything??? idk #i like the idea of sampo being extremely fucking powerful but not actin on his powers #cuz itd be too easy n thats boring. sure he could make most people jus do what he wants but whats the fun in that

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eepyuii · 2 months

Text

frostbite — pt. 15

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; none, dottore is mentioned but none of his hideous acts

notes ; WHATS UP SMART FELLAS AND FART SMELLAS ⁉️

I PROMISE IM NOT DEAD,,,, see the thing is that since i published the last chapter of this, i’ve done some crazy things like finishing and graduating highschool and studying and doing national exams and preparing to apply to colleges and yknow….. really normal, totally not time consuming stuff LMAO i can’t promise that i’ll be consistent again as i am still pretty busy with all that bizz but i’m very happy to have finally gotten a new chapter out

ANYWAY ITS MEROPIDE TIME BABEY ‼️ finally get to write my pookie wookie shmookie wriothesley, can u tell that i think he’s neat :3 can u tell that i am brewing up something with him :3 can u :3

also i HAVE OTHER WRITING PROJECTS COMING OUT SOONER OR LATER MORE LATER I PROMISE,,,,, currently cooking up something for whatever dungeon meshi-heads out there that r willing to enjoy it!!!!!

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this line could not be moving slower.

you’ve been standing here for so long— any progress forward is merely two steps further but your legs have long since turned to lead, making each movement arduous and achy. mind hazy and limbs sluggish as you drag your feet through the rusted metal flooring. the most likely cause for your sudden stagnation is the overwhelming pressure from being… however many feet underwater you are, as you haven’t had much time to adapt to that yet.

ironically, it almost makes you regret your decision and you hadn’t even truly gotten inside the fortress of meropide. perhaps this was some sort of intentional psychological warfare towards the new prisoners, some sort of initiation for the upcoming torments of their sentences. even so, you look back on the moment and think it was the best course of action.

you remember the way your heart dropped upon hearing the word ‘guilty’, the way it fell all the way down to your feet and picked its pace back up again, beating a hundred miles per hour. you remember the way you weren’t even given time to say goodbye, to reach out to childe as he rebelled against the guards and was immediately detained by the iudex.

the iudex… you become conflicted at the thought of him. part of your brain tells you that you should be angry and despise him for only letting you visit childe after he was reported to be missing from the fortress, under the guise of inviting you to investigate his disappearance. though… he was so kind about it. you must’ve visited his office nearly everyday to ask for permission to visit the prison, every time being met by the same answer of ‘it’s beyond my capabilities’, but each of them he remained utterly patient and civilized— something that you ashamedly can’t say that you did in return. and even so, he graciously offered to grant you a fake sentence so you could find the harbinger yourself, with the help of the traveler and paimon of course.

there was a certain air to monsieur neuvillette, one of silent melancholy and deep thoughtfulness. your first impression of the iudex had you recalling zhongli as a comparison, but now you’ve grown more certain that they have far more in common. neuvillette is most definitely not human, you’ve long since assessed that, but every time you get a look at his eyes while visiting his office, you notice an almost draconic appearance to them. perhaps that’s why you can’t fully bring yourself to dislike him— he reminds you far too much of you the fond friendship you’ve found within the consultant of wansheng funeral parlor.

there’s a shove to your shoulder that snaps you back into reality and you realize it’s your turn to have your mugshot taken. mugshot… what would your mother think of you now? both her own child and their childhood best friend having criminal records in another country— you can practically feel the pinching of your ear, even if the false charge was something as ridiculous as stealing lady furina’s cake. despite the flash of the kamera making your eyes sting, you do your best to maintain a neutral expression and wonder if the traveler and paimon had already gotten their turn and have long since installed themselves in the fortress. you especially wonder so when you’re left to venture the fortress of meropide alone, with only a room number and no knowledge of the prison’s system to your name.

“hey! you there!”

oh dear heavens, it’s already started— you’ve not stepped foot into prison for one whole minute and you’re already about to become a bullying victim. you swallow thickly and turn around meekly like a cornered rabbit. a particularly grumpy-looking guard is the one who calls you over, expression hard and stoic. you nearly consider begging him to not be mean to you like a cowardly little kid, but he speaks before you even get to open your mouth and spew anything embarrassing.

“you’re y/n, the new inmate, right? the duke wants to see you in his office.”

oh it’s so over for you.

perhaps you haven’t become a punching bag just yet but you’ve sure, somehow, irked the warden enough to be immediately sent to his office. oh gods… is it because you’re fatui? you heard there were quite a few fatui operatives already residing in the fortress of meropide— perhaps the duke has a particular distaste for your kind. the guard half-heartedly shows you the way to the duke’s office, the singular, imposing tower at the center of the fortress.

the silence inside the tower is deafening, the only sound heard is the clang of your steps against the metal stairs, almost as if you’re the only living being inside. the second floor introduces itself through the incredibly faint, almost innate herbal scent that wafts around you more and more the higher steps you climb. finally, it reveals an atmospheric office with bookshelves rounding the walls, a comfortable-looking sofa with a coffee table littered with teacups before it and in the grand center of the room, a wide desk— the last thing you register is the man sitting at it expectantly.

he looks nothing like you expected him to.

by the title of duke, you were picturing an older, posher man adorning expensive fabrics and a distasteful, condescending expression towards the ‘lower lifeforms’ of his prisoners. instead, he’s much younger and rugged, littered with scars, dark tones and sharp edges to his outfit— he almost looks like an inmate himself. despite not appearing necessarily condescending, the duke of meropide is still plentiful imposing, as his icy blue eyes and platform boots send a shiver through your spine when he stands up to greet you. he sticks out a hand and you instinctively flinch away, although the hand only hangs in the air passively awaiting a handshake.

“y/n l/n, prisoner 7458, it’s a pleasure to meet you. welcome to the fortress of meropide.”

oh… his tone is so casual and friendly, it completely takes you aback— like you’re meeting a friend on the street instead of the highest authority of an enormous prison as one of his very own prisoners. you scramble to shake his hand and awkwardly fall into some sort of bowing motion in the midst of you’re panic.

“a-ah yes! thank po you very m-much, your grace.”

with this proximity, you have no choice but to look at the duke’s face up close. he wears an easy smile on his otherwise seemingly hardened face, one that you can’t help but subconsciously think of as handsome. another juxtaposition to your expectations toward the duke is that, despite his rugged and troublesome appearance, he is quite well kept— as seen by his neat peach fuzz. he confuses you entirely.

the duke chuckles amusedly at your entirely perplexed demeanor.

“no need to be so nervous, this is a casual talk that i personally wanted to have with you, rather than a… part of the fortress’ welcoming ceremony. so please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable— i’ll prepare us some tea. oh! and call me wriothesley.”

you do as… wriothesley says and sit on the surprisingly cushy chair in front of his desk as he himself steps off to the side to make the tea. your mind is still running at miles per hour with everything that’s happened and with what might happen next, with what to say or not to say to the duke, with where childe, the traveler and paimon might be right now. not to mention the sickeningly sweet smell that fills your brain even further… this must be some strong tea. wriothesley sets a teacup in front of you and sits at his grand, tall chair behind the desk. he faces you with a bright smile that you force yourself to return, yet you still can’t help but keep the thought of this ‘casual talk’ having other intentions gnaw at the back of your mind.

“so, i won’t dilly-dally with what i’d like to talk about— as you may have noticed, the fortress harbors quite a few inmates from the fatui.” bingo. who knew that your blinded anxieties were actually right.

“all of them arrive here with similar ranks, under similar sentences for similar crimes. standard stuff, really… but this is the very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a sergeant.”

although the duke keeps up an easy-going and lighthearted demeanor, you can’t help but remain on edge. you feel once again like prey cornered by a calculating hound. the smell of the tea still plagues your mind with its unavoidable presence— what’s even worse is that the scent isn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, the memory is just out of your grasp, frustrating you even more.

“and even further, this is our very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a fatui sergeant whose crime was… to steal a cake from lady furina?” wriothesley briefly looks down toward a document on his desk to make sure he’s actually recalling your crime correctly. you barely listen to what he’s saying, still laser focused on recognizing this irking fragrance.

“adding onto that, it seems as though we’re receiving two new inmates today who are arriving on the exact same sentence for the exact same crime as yourself. seems a bit curious, doesn’t it?”

your attention is caught by the mention of the traveler and paimon and you shoot up in your seat.

“oh yes, those are my friends! a-are they okay? have they arrived yet?”

wriothesley is seemingly surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, as he chuckles with certain shock and amusement. he looks at his file once again, eyes trailing over to the two other prisoner registry’s below your own with a certain analytical hint to his gaze.

“i’m certain they’ll be arriving at the fortress shortly. in the meantime, why don’t you tell me how exactly the three of you managed to commit such a heinous crime?” he asks humorously.

wait!

you’ve finally recognized the scent… a lesser known tea leaf from liyue, with no real definitive name for itself— only truly studied within the medical field for being one of the few tea leafs to contain sodium thiopental, a barbiturate that slows the speed of the communication between the spinal cord and the brain, making high-functioning tasks such as lying harder to perform. a truth serum.

wriothesley has served you a truth serum.

so much for a ‘casual talk’. you’ve known the man for not even a full day, yet you still feel a sting of betrayal fermenting in your chest. but truly, what can be done when you’ll always have a big fat target on your back that labels you as nothing more than a fatuus? you’ve chosen this wretched bed, now you must lie in it.

and lie you will.

with a forced laugh, you feign a reminiscent smile. “a-ah, it’s actually quite silly— i believe it goes without mention that my friends and i are foreigners and still wildly foreign to fontainian customs. we were invited to a meeting with lady furina and monsieur neuvillette in the spirit of diplomacy but, ahah… i guess we were unfamiliar with lady furina’s predilection for sweets and just took one for ourselves!”

wriothesley laughs in turn, but you’re unable to discern how genuine it is. you watch his periwinkle eyes flicker briefly toward your untouched teacup and suddenly, the atmosphere turns into one akin to a game of chess— innately hostile and strategic, where both of you must be hyper aware of the other’s next move lest you make a mistake and lose your carefully constructed composure.

“i must say it is an unlikely set of circumstances…”

you subconsciously look toward wriothesley’s own teacup, seeing that his remains as unsipped as yours. with a chilling feeling, you look back up to see that the duke’s gaze was already fixated on you, which means he saw you checking his teacup. which means he knows that you know.

“though, i’ve got to ask… what exactly entails your position in the fatui? this is purely out of my own curiosity, as most of our inmates all come from the house of the hearth.”

you swallow hard.

“well… i’m head of the infirmary, that’s all my position is, really. the sergeant title is just a half-assed justification for how high my ranking is.”

the calculating hint to wriothesley’s gaze softens in the slightest amount possible and he lightly looks off to the side, as if reminded of something, or someone he knows by your answer.

“i work directly under the second fatui harbinger, il dottore. i’m somewhat his… assistant.” the word assistant leaves your mouth with a tinge of disdainfulness as your body almost instinctively tenses at the mention of… him. the duke picks up on it.

“the doctor, huh— haven’t heard much about him myself, but what i have heard seems like more than enough for me.” you can’t help but snort at that.

“do you like it? working for him, that is.”

you’re staggered into silence and a shocked expression— the suddenness of the question completely taking you by surprise. the speechlessness you feel is painfully reminiscent of when kunikuzushi asked you if you’d like to kill dottore. despite the answer being obvious to you, there’s a subconscious fear gnawing at your side that dottore might be out here listening, disguised as someone else or as one of his segments, living a false life. but you can’t allow yourself to live in fear of him anymore— his segments are gone and he’s pathetically stuck in zapolyarny palace by himself while you’ve been out and traveling miles and miles away from snezhnaya. kunikuzushi doesn’t fear him, so why should you?

you’ve always been terrible at bluffing, so fuck it— you might as well not bluff at all.

instead of answering wriothesley immediately, you lunge for the teacup and gulp down the entire thing, much to his surprise. the duke is stunned in return as he merely watches attentively for your reaction to the serum. the silence between the two of you is prolonged as you give the serum time to take effect. the taste itself is a delightful, slight earthy flavor— making it even more enticing to drink normally for one unaware of the leaf’s properties. you don’t feel any different after a few seconds, if not ever so slightly woozier. you breathe in and out deeply, letting the first answer that comes to your mind be the one that comes out.

“i take my job very seriously, your grace— i am a medic, my ambition is to save lives. and there isn’t a soul in teyvat that i would ever want to kill more than i want to kill him.”

the answer feels foreign and unexpected even to yourself. the first time you were asked such a question, before one who was once the balladeer and dottore’s experimental god, your answer was no. it felt easier to say no— to tell him you’d rather he be the one to end the doctor’s reign of terror, because for the most part it was true. but then kunikuzushi found closure, he found new life and prosperity in places outside of godhood or tormenting others or spiting his ‘mother’ or going after dottore.

and you, you stayed the same. you’re still suffocating within the grimy, clawed grasp of the second fatui harbinger. you’ve been through so much, visited four different nations within the span of the last year, fought an abyssal creature and an artificial, nearly god-like being yet you still feel as stuck as you did while you were still stationed in snezhnaya. you’re still stuck having reasons to want to kill dottore, kunikuzushi moved past his.

the duke still can’t find an immediate response, as he merely scoffs incredulously at what he’s just watched. you see a faint glaze take over his gaze when he looks aimlessly down at his desk, as if truly involving himself in memories of the past— his eyebrows furrow briefly, as though the memories he recalls aren’t good ones. something grips at your throat, an anxious feeling, as you regret being so impulsive as to reveal something so damning about yourself. to a prison warden, no less. you feel as though you’ve sobered up and feel the need to make up for what you said and excuse yourself, but before you can even open your mouth wriothesley is already standing from his chair.

“well i respect your honesty, sergeant. i’m afraid we’ll have to leave our talk here, as i have to welcome more of the new prisoners into the fortress, maybe even your friends will be amongst them— i’ll make sure to give them the word that you’re here.”

you nod briskly and scurry to leave the office while the duke insists on seeing you out himself. your head pounds with nervousness, and perhaps slightly with the truth serum tea you just downed all at once— so much so that you almost don’t notice wriothesley’s hand sticking out once again in a polite handshake. much less do you notice the fascinated studying scan of his eyes across your face as your hand meets his.

“and again— welcome to the fortress of meropide, y/n.”

you don’t sleep well on your first night at the fortress.

perhaps it’s due to not being used to the overwhelming pressure of the water, perhaps due to the lack of warmth that your metal surroundings bring, perhaps a side effect of the tea.

or perhaps… it’s because you dream of ajax.

at first, the dream is sweet— drowning in cheesy, tooth-rooting romance tropes dug from the most delusional corners of your brain, ones that you desperately tried to suppress after you got over your phase of reading romance novels as a child. you’re reliving the tension-filled moment inside your hotel bathroom from the other morning, where some mystical force had pulled you and ajax so close together you shared the same breath, getting painstakingly closer still. only this time, instead of getting interrupted by those guards, the scene keeps going… and going… until you truly, finally meet each other in the middle.

within the misty midsts of your slumber, it almost feels real— there’s a shock of electricity when your lips touch, your heart beats faster from even outside the dream, you can nearly feel the warm sigh of satisfaction that ajax lets out from his nose and onto your face. but it still isn’t enough, the tightness in ajax’s desperate grip onto the back of your head and on the small of your back aren’t present enough. the juxtaposition of his fiery warm skin against your own cold one isn’t contrasting enough, your skin doesn’t burn as fiercely as it does when you touch him in the waking world.

and soon enough, the dream shifts… shifts into scenes of ajax inside the fortress. you’re not lucid enough to find the images strange, as you’ve never seen him inside the fortress yet— so you remain stuck, watching as he sneaks past a plethora of guards to reach a decrepit tunnel, overridden with plant-life as it connects out into the fontainian sea. your vision starts to blend incomprehensibly like watercolors on wet paper, until all the remains is a blinding, blue mess and a faint whisper in ajax’s voice:

“something’s… calling me… i… i have to go…”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

and don’t forget to boycott this shitty game!!

#genshin impact fic #childe genshin x reader #childe imagines #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe fic #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia imagines #tartaglia fic #childe tartaglia

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wain-fleets · 1 year

Text

CONTAGIOUS.

miles decides to take care of a sickly lyle — someone decides to watch !

( miles quaritch x lyle wainfleet x fem! recom!reader )

SMUT WARNING! NSFW, MDNI. ( fluff to extra stuff .. ) p in v, fingering, threesome, double penetration, oral, anal, rough play, pet names, praising, etc. very nasty stuff. satiate my thirst.

miles sighed heavily, lightly tossing about the bottle of water in his hands. it crinkled and sloshed, making a faint noise that wasn't near loud enough to break through fike's snores (who had managed to fall asleep on the floor, next to the fridge after having a bit too much to drink). his bare feet pattered against the cold tile flooring as he made his way past the sleeping recom for the second time, and down the dimly lit hall to his own room.

or he wished it were his own. maybe then he'd actually catch some shuteye, instead of listening to lyle's constant chattering. still, he didn't want to think about where he'd be without the annoying fuck.

the door let out a small hiss as it slid open automatically upon registering his presence. *fancy shit.* and as soon as he stepped inside, he was met with the familiar sight of lyle lazing about in the bottom bunk. normally, lyle would sleep up top, but he could hardly get himself up there.

he was sick as a dog— supposedly.

now, miles wasn't sure why, but a part of him did take pity on the man. even if it was rather thin at 11 at night, his patience was there. and lyle sounded like a dog with a squeaker lodged in its throat. he needed water.

miles allowed his weight to press in the mattress at lyle's side. the metal frame groaned just a bit before settling, as lyle rolled over to face him.

"here." miles grunted out, offering the water to lyle, who kept himself tucked beneath his blankets. lyle could see he was shivering, but he had a relieved look on his face as he accepted the drink. he popped the lid off, bringing the spout to his lips and gulping eagerly. until nothing but a few sips remained in the bottom.

"ugh.. thanks.." he managed, "didn't expect you to be back in here tonight. youre gonna get sick, yknow."

"i figure that, but i think bein' sick beats sleepin' in there with mansk n' prager."

"they get on your nerves?"

miles shook his head, his tail thumping against the mattress as his palm rubbed at his forehead. "no .."

lyle wasn't sure what to think of the dry reply, but he didn't push it. he knew that miles wasnt always the best at expressing himself, whether it be in a positive way or a not so positive one. miles refused to show any signs of weakness, even when he probably should.

lyle could be the same way at times, but right now? there was no point in even trying to fight it. he felt like shit, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

a pained groan slipped from his blue lips as his head lolled back into his pillow, and a whine rattled his vocal chords. he squeezed his eyes shut, sniffling and sucking in rapid, shallow breaths in an attempt to clear his airways. this caught miles' attention, once more.

"here, sit up." the colonel demanded, and as much as lyle wanted to refuse, it was built-in now to *listen to miles*. he was his boss, after all. pretty much. lyle didn't mind.

"then help." lyle huffed at him, and miles couldn't help an eyeroll. their hands locked and lyle sat himself up with a small wheeze deep in his chest, keeping his hand clutched to miles' so he wouldn't fall back.

his ears twitched, pinning back against his head at the unfamiliar touch he felt. miles placed his hand against lyle's lower back, gently pushing in on it as a nudge of guidance.

"straighten your back— deep breaths, now." even though lyle was still tense from what he was seeing (as it was rather baffling: miles was never this gentle), he couldn't help but melt into it. lyle was sick, he felt cold. and miles was warm- his hands were so warm.

he complied to the simple command, rolling his shoulders a bit as he straightened his posture, and sucked in deeply. his nose was stuffy, so the task wasn't the easiest, but after a few tries he felt all the ick flowing downwards, and he could breathe again.

miles watched lyle take in deep chugs of oxygen, his eyes lingering over his lips before settling on his nose. lyle resembled rudolph, only far less happy than that stupid fucking deer. but a whole lot cuter, nonetheless.

"there you go.." miles murmured, looking down at his hand, which he held in place for lyle to continue using as support. he felt his heart skip a beat at the contact. the two men had always had a thing for each other, but it never went further than a few drunken makeout sessions.

but the interest was there. the care was there. and, even, a love that went beyond something friendly. on the outside they looked to be brothers in arms, but behind closed doors? more like very, very not related guys in dick to ass. at least that's what they wanted it to be. but neither had the balls to fess up.

as miles lost himself in thoughts of the man sitting just next to him, his eyes tracked downwards. over the corporal's bare chest, down to the blanket that hung loosely over his lap. the sight made his breath hitch, his palms growing sweaty, to which he wiped them off on the thighs of his sweatpants.

lyle, who was still catching his breath, noticed this. and he felt his own panic settling into his gut. it bubbled painfully in his belly, burning in his abdomen. did miles notice how hard he was?

lyle adjusted the blanket over his lap, trying to more properly hide the grown bulge beneath it to no avail. plus, it was too late. miles had noticed. yeah, he saw that. cant hide from him.

lyle's tail thumped under the covers, a clear indicator of his anxiety, and his cheeks flushed. miles watched his every move. like a hound trained on a rabbit.

"hmh.. it's okay," miles started, finding the confidence within himself to finally speak. "i know my touch is 'bout as good as it gets." he drawled, that southern accent thick with an almost sadistic tinge. he liked it. he liked seeing lyle all worked up and uncomfortable in his presence.

it made him feel in charge. strong. and incredibly fucking horny. he wasn't even going to attempt to hide his own erection-- it was huge and it was happening.

his pants tightened as his cock strained against them, making him hiss softly behind his canines. it hurt. so good.

lyle chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. he was embarrassed, and unsure what to say. was miles toying with him? making fun of him? was he upset with him? lyle couldnt tell. until he noticed the clear indication in miles' pants.

"sorry.."

"whaddya got to apologize for?"

their bellies danced with butterflies, a feeling neither of them thought possible anymore. lyle shrugged.

and without thinking, before he even knew what he was doing, miles reached out. his hand cupped between lyle's hidden thighs, his palm slightly compressing the mound in the other man's boxers.

lyle's whole body tensed, his breathing growing more faint than it already was. he grabbed miles' bicep, and the colonel stilled his movements.

"w.. want me to stop?" miles whispered, starting to retract his hand. but lyle stopped him.

the corporal grabbed his wrist, pushing his palm further onto his crotch and bucking his hips into it. a mewl left his lips; a whine of desperation and yearning. he needed to be touched.

at this, now having consent, miles couldn't hold back anymore. he ripped the covers from the bed, carelessly tossing them aside before returning his hand to lyle's boxers. he massaged the man's length through the fabric, earning himself a whimper of gratitude. but he knew lyle needed more.

he guided lyle to lean back against the wall, using one hand to grip the recom's braid. he roughly snatched it back, forcing lyle's chin to tilt upward to expose his neck. his other hand worked lyle's boxers down around his thighs, just enough to free his cock.

"fuck.. that's pretty." miles groaned at the new sight. lyle was big. the colonel had already known this, but actually seeing it was a whole new experience. his hand wrapped around lyle, starting to pump him slowly, working him over.

lyle's moans and curses of ecstasy were intoxicating to his superior. everything felt so right. and he wasn't stopping for shit.

he sank his fangs into lyle's neck, still gripping his braid to hold him in place while delivering deliberate, slow strokes to his dick.

lyle groaned, his hands searching until they found the tie to miles' sweatpants, and he pulled them loose. miles stopped him.

"nah, baby.. let me take care of ya. you're the sick one, ain't ya?" miles inquired, his hot breath fanning over the blue skin of the other male's neck.

lyle's lip curled upward in a small, lazy smirk. "well yeah, but i still wanna." his voice was a bit nasally, and playful towards his boss. with that undeniable hunger.

miles wanted nothing more than to pin him down and take him, but he had to restrain himself. lyle was still sick, and he feared that if he pushed too hard, he'd exhaust the man or put him off. so he kept himself light.

"a'right.. well, if ya wanna, i aint stoppin' ya. but you best remember," his grip on the recom's queue tightened, making lyle feel a tingling sensation throughout his whole frame. every nerve jolting with excitement. normally this would hurt, but damn he was too heated to even register that at the moment. "you go and get yourself hurt, it aint gonna be my fault.. understood?"

"uh huh--"

miles bared his teeth, glaring down into lyle's wide, yellow eyes.

"use your damn words." he seethed. he hadn't meant to sound so cruel, no. but the overwhelming strain between his legs was painful, and he needed relief. or he'd completely lose his mind. he was teetering between sane and falling off the deep end.

lyle was just too fucking cute; too hot. those sounds, those eyes. his tail waggling back and forth and those ears giving away his true emotions.

"yes sir." lyle responded back to him properly this time, and for a split second he resembled a soldier once again instead of a man weakened in another's arms. but just like ice under the desert sun, it was gone before it even stood a chance. and they were both okay with that.

"yeah.. good boy." miles sneered, freeing lyle's hair and allowing the man to proceed. he sat back on his knees slightly, watching as lyle tugged his sweatpants down.

briefly, his eyes landed on lyle's cock again. it twitched and pulsed, begging for contact again. a bead of precum gathered on its slit, and miles swiped it up with his thumb. promptly licking the digit clean.

lyle was awestruck momentarily, unsure of what had just happened until it clicked. miles had tasted him, and god did he want to return the favor. he hugged his lower lip between his canines as he slowly peeled down the colonel's boxers.

a pleased sigh exhaled from miles' lips as his cock was finally freed from its confines. lyle took note of the small wet patch on the plaid fabric he'd just removed. the small details. miles was starved for him, just as lyle was.

miles was notably bigger than lyle, even though they were both pretty huge. these new bodies were something else, that was for sure. covered in stripes and freckles in even the most intimate places.

lyle breathed a tiny sigh of wonderment as he reached his hand out, carefully wrapping it around the colonel's length. he didn't stroke it, and instead gave it a gentle squeeze, taking his time to just feel it. he had no idea how he'd managed to make this fellow marine so damn hard.

he leaned down, pushing up the hem of miles' tshirt with his free hand as the other guided the man's cock towards his mouth, and he used his tongue to clean the small mess gathered atop it. miles gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into lyle's shoulders.

"fuck.." he whispered, pursing his lips as he suppressed a moan. but he wasn't able to suppress his hands, and his claws dug into lyle's neck. he shoved the corporal back onto the bed, pinning him down by his throat.

miles was so swift in his movements that it dazed lyle briefly, and he blinked rapidly up at the larger recom. he felt the pressure on his jugular, but he wasnt afraid. if anything, this only excited him further. he watched as miles pushed himself up to hover above him, trapping lyle's waist between his knees after fully removing his sweatpants and ripping his tshirt off.

lyle sucked in a deep breath of air through his mouth as his throat was released. he grunted as miles shoved his shoulders down, forcing lyle's face towards his cock. lyle was trapped, his hands holding miles' thighs as he gazed up at the colonel.

miles was practically sitting on his chest, but he made sure not to apply his full weight. and though he was trying to fight off his primal side, he was losing.

"suck my fuckin' cock.." he demanded through his teeth, using one hand to cradle lyle's head towards his groin.

he couldn't hold back a moan this time, as lyle's lips parted and he took miles into his mouth.

"ah, fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.." miles cursed, bucking his hips forward. lyle gagged at the knock to the back of his throat, but he didn't pull away and endured, instead starting to slowly bob his head.

he'd never sucked a dick before, but he could tell he was doing well by the blissful groans and grunts from his companion. he closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as he tried to deepen the hold his lips had on the colonel.

miles tightened his jaw, his abdomen sucking inward as he leaned his head back. he was trying his damndest to keep quiet, but it was hardly working. the profanity escaping his lips was filthy.

his gaze dropped back down to lyle, watching the man work him with his mouth. the sight ignited something inside the colonel, and the urge to cum was too damn strong.

without warning, miles grabbed lyle's head, placing his palms on either side of it firmly to hold it in place. he started rocking his hips, back and forth. slowly, gradually speeding up until he was pounding poor lyle's face.

"ah, fuck! baby.. oh shit." the colonel panted with each thrust, his blood pumping so quickly that a ringing filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of lyle's own moans and grunts.

this was the first thing you saw when you stopped in the doorway. your footsteps halted, your eyes wide in shock and the pointed ears on your head perked in what was a mix of confusion and curiosity. followed by a pang of fear. what the hell was going on?

you felt your hands starting to tremble, your heart rate soaring to dangerous heights.

it was almost instantaneous. as soon as you realized what was going on, heat flooded through you, centering to your abdomen. it felt as if your guts were knotting up, a deliciously painful feeling. anxiety paired with the overwhelming need to get fucked.

you squeezed your thighs together, with a faint gasp. the two men didn't pick up on this small sound, but they did pick up your scent. well, miles did. lyle couldn't breathe through his nose for shit.

that smell.

they both stopped moving. miles released lyle's head, allowing the recom to finally breathe again.

"what?" lyle croaked out, as miles twisted slightly, tilting his head to see you past his shoulder.

you considered trying to hide, but you knew it was hopeless. you were caught, and you weren't sure whether to feel negatively about that or not.

but the way the two looked at you, you realized maybe it wasnt so bad. even if embarrassing and shameful.

"uh, sorry. ill just-" you started, but miles cut you off.

"whats that smell?" did you stink? oh god- "hell that's good.. that you, sweet pea?"

a shock waved through you. was he speaking to you? only then did you finally understand why you'd been caught. these new bodies. they could smell every bit of your desire. and lyle picked up on it when he sat up.

their mouths flooded with drool. they needed you. whatever was getting passed around, it was contagious, and there was no controlling it.

"heyy.. y/n," lyle dragged, licking his lips. "wanna join?" it almost sounded like he was joking, teasing you. and you almost laughed. gladly you stopped it, seeing he was being dead serious.

but how were you supposed to answer that question? yes, no? it wouldn't be right to join in, would it? you could only stand, your lips parted as you tried to come to a conclusion. you were taking too long, though.

miles lifted a hand, waving two fingers towards himself in a gesture for you to come over.

"wait, i-"

"nah, c'mere. i can smell ya.. i know you wanna."

you paused at his words. and caved in. your legs felt weak as you shut the door behind yourself and neared the bunk. miles stood, pulling lyle up with him. they stood in front of you, their bodies on full display.

and what a damn good display it was.

toned chests, two huge cocks eager for one another and now for you.

"are you guys sure-" you were cut off. again. lyle snatched your hips, growling lowly as he roughly tripped you up and pinned you to the mattress. any signs of his ailment had subsided, and he had a feral look in his eyes. as did miles.

they both admired you from above, eyeing you like two hungry wolves would a freshly cut flank from the juiciest doe.

"finally found our lil culprit, wainfleet." miles huffed out, reaching down to push the tank top clothing your body above your stomach. his hand glided over your warm abdomen, working gentle circles into it in a soft massage.

"yeah.. shit, it was her the whole time." the corporal clicked, his hand grabbing your knee. he slid his palm upwards, pushing his fingers under the leg of your shorts.

they noticed the quizzical look in your eyes.

"huh. darlin'," miles crooned, leaning over you. "we've been smellin' your fine ass for months. couldnt figure out what it was, till now. just 'bout all the guys been lookin' for you."

"yeah. y'know, you could've just said you wanted us." lyle shrugged at his own words, and you gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the panties beneath your shorts. a grin overtook his lips as he felt the damp cloth. "damn, you're soakin'.."

his middle finger slipped under the small garment, caressing your folds with a tenderness that took your breath away. you couldn't hold in a small squeak, just as miles shoved your tank top up the rest of the way. your breasts fell from your shirt, and both the men seemed to purr at the sight.

as miles leaned down, taking a nipple into his mouth to suckle at it eagerly, his other hand kneaded the opposite breast. the sight made lyle want to release all over the both of you right then and there, but he held back, and instead plunged his finger deep inside your pussy.

he felt your walls, pushing his finger into that spot that made your toes curl and your breath stop.

"fuck, colonel, she's tight.."

miles released your nipple with a pop. "mmhmm.. guess we oughta get her ready then."

those words made your whole body give up. if you wanted to fight it before, you sure as hell couldn't now. you were in this, and dammit, you were not leaving until you felt quenched. until they did, too. they'd make sure of that.

lyle pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving you empty. he brought it to his lips, and miles sat up to join him in aweing at how wet you were. they snickered to themselves, before they both leaned in and licked lyle's hand clean.

their tongues pressed together, and they shared a sweet kiss before pulling back to share a knowing look. you tasted good.

focusing their attention back on you, you found your shorts being yanked off by miles. lyle leaned down, pushing your knees wide apart so they could get a good look at those underwear.

"you need it bad, dontcha?" lyle mocked, dropping down and gripping your thighs as he buried his face in your panties, licking and sucking your clit through them.

"oh god, lyle-" you panted, and he whimpered in response.

this was heaven for him. he had tasted miles, and now he was tasting you. in truth, he'd been pining for your fine ass since day one. the slut.

his mouth engulfed your whole mound through the fabric, and he kept sucking the moisture from it. as you moaned and whined, you noticed miles sat at your side, stroking himself at a steady pace as he admired the view.

"that feel good, darlin'?" the colonel questioned, using his free hand to brush your hair back out of your face. "mm.. good girl, keep moanin' for me. not too loud, now.."

miles praised you, and you quivered under lyle's ministrations. he pulled from your pussy, only momentarily, just enough time to rip your panties off and toss them at miles.

a squeal rattled your throat as lyle delved back into your heat, his nails digging into your thighs to leave behind faint scratches as he lapped away at your soaked folds. now unprotected, it felt so much better. his tongue teased your clit, and he took it between his lips to give it a hard suckle that made you clutch the bedsheets. your knuckles paled as you let out a loud moan, only for a large hand to cover your mouth.

miles muffled your sounds of pleasure with his palm, shushing you quietly.

"shh, now. dont want anybody else walkin' in here. dont think you could take more than two of us, sweet pea." he reminded, and you made an effort to be more quiet. though it was hard.

"yeah, good girl.. look'it you. damn." he breathed, leaning over you to suck at your breast once more. he kept a hand over your mouth, the other gripping your panties as he grinded his cock against them. "mmh.. mhm, fuck." he released your nipple to speak again, "so damn pretty." he whispered, peppering kisses down your belly until he reached lyle.

lyle panted as he pulled back temporarily, his mouth and chin covered in your juices. he gazed up at miles, who leaned in to lick his face clean, before they both focused on your pussy.

miles released your mouth, using his now free hand to spread your pussy lips.

"pretty fuckin' pussy, colonel." lyle breathed, "tastes damn good too.. you gotta try this."

they were passing you back and forth, treating you like a shared dish for the both of them to dine upon.

"guys-"

"hush." they both ordered you sternly, their voices mixing into one. one that you simply listened to.

"you relax and enjoy yourself, buttercup." lyle smacked his lips, pushing himself up to sit aside you as miles dipped to replace him between your legs.

you whined up at lyle, whimpering as miles' tongue shoved inside your wetness. lyle gave you a sweet smile, dipping his head to give you a kiss. you could taste yourself on his lips.

he broke the kiss to tilt your head back, leaning down to sink his teeth into your neck, marking you. you moaned, and miles groaned along with you.

"so fuckin' good." the colonel panted, pushing your knees up to your chest as he feasted away at your swollen folds. the change in position made you all the more heated, and your hands clung to lyle.

"oh fuck.. im gonna- i need to-"

"yeah, yeah, good girl. you gonna cum for us? huh? gonna cum all over his face?" lyle whispered in your ear, and you nodded hastily.

"uh huh, uh huh-" you agreed, and miles sped up his tongue, abusing your sensitive bud with it again and again. "uh huh!"

"yeah? yeah?" lyle nodded with you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. "good girl. yeah, cum for me baby. cum for us. good girl.."

his praise sent you over the edge, and just as you reached your peak, he smashed his lips to yours to silence the loud moan that would come with it. miles grinned, lapping up the remaining juices pooled in front of his mouth.

he helped you come down from your high as lyle kissed you repeatedly, the corporal murmuring soft 'good jobs' to you.

miles pulled back when you were fully spent, but they weren't done.

they needed to cum, too.

they stared down at you, with those hungry eyes again. and though you were weak, you wanted to please them just as much as they had you. you bit your lip, pushing yourself to lay on your side.

lyle sat on his knees behind you, his cock rubbing against your bare ass as miles took the front. they grabbed one of your legs, lifting it and forcing your knee to your shoulder.

"fuck.. can i fuck your ass?" lyle suddenly blurted, not even realizing what he'd said. he made it sound so casual, as if asking for a basic need. and to him, it was. he needed to be inside that tight ass of yours. he couldn't take it anymore.

"but you're so.. big." you muttered uncertainly back at him, and he pouted.

"ill be gentle, baby.." he assured you, and your tail flicked out, your ears pinning against your hair as you considered it.

miles was already positioning himself at your front entrance, starting to ease himself inside you carefully. you covered your mouth, and without even considering the consequences you just nodded to lyle.

"thank fuck." the corporal chirped, coating his hand in saliva and spreading it about his cock and your asshole.

your breath caught. they were going in at the same time? what the hell did you just agree to?

before you could say anything, you felt your ass being stretched. slowly, painfully. it already hurt enough on its own, but paired with miles' cock deep inside your pussy as well, it was excruciating.

he held you steady by your waist, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he refrained from just taking off without letting you get used to him.

but it felt so good at the same time.

lyle pushed in as far as he could reach, going at a snail's pace just for you. he stopped once he bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"fuck. so fucking tight. fuck." he cursed.

miles whined along with him, also holding himself deep inside you. you felt him against your cervix, and you could swear your guts were flipped upside down now.

they savored the feeling of your plush walls hugging their cocks so tightly, squeezing and clenching around their lengths as if begging them to stay planted there. lyle peppered your shoulder in tender kisses all the while, murmuring soft comforting words of reassurance.

once you felt you were ready, even with faint tears in your eyes, you gave them the go ahead. and when they found a rhythm, they couldn't hold back.

as lyle would pull back, miles would push in.

as miles pulled back, lyle would shove back in again.

their hips rocked into yours ruthlessly, and fortunately the pain had mostly diminished. replaced with a pleasure from the full, hot feeling in your belly.

"yeah, fuck.. good girl."

"so fuckin' tight. shit."

"you feel so good baby."

"milkin' my fuckin' cock. fuck yeah."

"that's a good girl. shit. take it."

"take my fuckin' cock."

filthy, filthy, filthy.

you could only lay there, a moaning mess as they used your holes.

"fuck, im gonna cum!" lyle whimpered, his hips snapping forward again.

"ah, dammit.." miles hissed.

both of the men grew sloppy in their movements, their breathing growing heavier and heavier, their groans and grunts and whimpers more frequent.

until they both shoved deep inside at once, releasing all they had, painting your walls white with their loads.

they caught their breath atop you, before they gave in and just laid down on either side of you, their cocks still within your depths.

lyle hugged your waist from behind, burrowing his face in your hair. as miles rested in front of you, kissing your forehead and wiping away your tears as he massaged your hip.

lyle reached around to rub your abdomen, trying to provide some more comfort.

"you okay..?" he whispered.

"yeah, she's alright." miles whispered the answer for you, but the two of you doubted lyle heard as he was already fast asleep.

miles stared into your eyes with a gentle gaze now, simply admiring the features that made up you. you were so beautiful. how had he not noticed before? he bit back any further speaking.

"..can you sleep?" he whispered through lyle's faint snoring.

you nodded sleepily, your eyelids already hanging heavy.

he kissed your nose, "sleep."

that simple order was all you needed to doze off. still stuffed completely by both the men you were trapped between.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the next morning, mansk peeked his head in. prager was near behind him, wanting to see the condition of lyle. they hadn't expected to find three of their teammates in the room.

all naked, under one blanket. tossing and turning from the snotty noses they were all experiencing.

"wh-" fike poked his head in, his eyes widened in shock. as always. he had a mad hangover, and he thought for a second that he was still drunk as hell. "huh?!"

miles groaned in irritation, snatching up a half empty water bottle and hurling it straight at the other three recoms. they all jumped and fled the room, closing the door as they retreated in a fit of snickers and chuckles.

they were never going to let that down.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar twow #avatar 2 #miles quaritch #recom squad #recoms #avatar quaritch #quaritch #recom miles quaritch #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet x reader #miles quaritch smut #lyle wainfleet smut #miles quaritch x reader #smut #avatar smut

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the-kr8tor · 1 year

Note

What about a little Drabble with a reader that can sing? Nothing professional, just had a little training growing up and only does it for fun. Maybe hobie finds her singing and listens for a bit but as soon as he’s discovered she gets kinda embarrassed about it and stops. Or he’s playing music and she just starts singing along cause singing to a song is easier than by yourself, yknow? One of those two, whichever sounds more fun to you :D

Hi angel! Thank you for requesting! Hope you like it ❤️ there was supposed to be a snippet of lyrics here but I remembered copyright law lol.

Hobie Brown x fem!reader

No specific physical description of the reader.

No warnings just FLUFF 🥰

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Grabbing your walkman from the table then clipping it to your sweatpants, you slap the headphones over your ears, while arming yourself with the colorful feather duster–you press play.

The familiar guitar riffs booms loudly through your headphones, you really shouldn't listen to music this loudly; But to hell with it, you need the background music so you could focus on cleaning the flat.

Tapping your socked feet rhythmically on the wooden floor, you shake your hips slightly to the music, harmonizing with the singer, you're home alone, the usual bashfulness when you're singing is nonexistent.

Starting with the surface of the counter, you walk towards it with a pep in your step. You dust the wooden top in rhythm with the drum beats.

You mumble through the beginning of the song, waiting for the chorus, which is your favourite part because of its iconic lyrics.

You sing without a care in the world, while you use the feather duster as your mic. Continuing on dusting away when you don't remember the next lyrics.

Unbeknownst to you, Hobie stops himself mid-greeting once he sees you dance and sing along to the faint music coming from your mustard yellow headphones.

He chuckled to himself when he recognizes the lyrics you're belting out.

You hang around him too much, before you started dating this kind of music wouldn't be your cup of tea. But now? You're the one who's dragging him to every concert.

He watches you from your windowsill, one leg up on the metal hinges, nonchalantly perched on it. Hobie wishes he has a camera on him to record your little concert. Mentally memorizing the scene in front of him would do for now at least.

You try to match the cadence of the singer as you turn around, clutching the duster like a mic.

You screech when you see Hobie's familiar figure, dropping the rainbow duster "Hobie! How long have you been there?!"

Hobie opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Forgetting about your headphones still blaring music, still in shock with embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

Hobie stands up, motioning for you to take off the headphones.

You take it off your ears leaving it hanging over your neck, still hearing the muffled music through it, you definitely shouldn't have been listening to it this loud, or you would've heard Hobie coming in, saving yourself from embarrassment.

"Been here since the beginning" He smirks at you teasingly.

You cringe, face palming yourself "oh god!"

Hearing Hobie's footsteps you sneak a peek through your fingers. Instead of closing the gap, he shoots a practiced web on your waist. Pulling you towards him in one swift movement, you twirl around, feet sliding effortlessly until you're in his embrace.

You squeak out, grasping his strong arms to stabilize yourself, Hobie has the same idea, he holds the small of your back, lifting the hem of your shirt slighy, his thumb grazing the exposed skin.

"Got you" He gives you his signature smirk, turning your legs into jelly, good thing he's holding onto you.

You're amazed by how he can just take your breath away with minimal effort.

You hide your face in his leather vest, groaning in embarrassment.

"Didn't know there's a concert at your place, where's my ticket, hm?" He eggs you on, playfully shaking your form.

"Stooop" your muffled voice reverberates through the spandex of his suit. Hobie finds you adorable, he likes your singing voice, he'll tell you that later, but Hobie likes teasing you too much.

"Alright, alright I'll stop," Hobie says in between laughs.

You poke your head out from his vest, looking at him through your lashes with a pout.

"When I'm done" he finishes his sentence, grinning. "I didn't know they had a new band member, you got a double life too? Like Hannah Montana?"

"Augh, you're a menace!" You hide your face in his vest again, popping your head out quickly, you look at him suspiciously "wait, you know Hannah Montana?"

"Who?" Hobie feigns ignorance. He leans towards your face, cupping your chin, leading you in.

"You–" before you could get a sentence out, Hobie crashes his lips to yours, silencing any quips.

You can both still hear the music playing through your headphones, the singer chants out the last lyric of how much they can't keep their hands to themselves.

Hobie finds the lyrics appropriate as he kisses you deeply.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thanks for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #fanfic #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you

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millerscoffee · 1 year

Note

Hiii bee 🐝 congrats on 500 followers!!

How about....Joel Miller with “Breathe through your nose.” for the prompt?

thank you SOOO much mari ♡ what a life hehe. oh i think i can do that

all for you

1042 words | joel miller x reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: established relationship, face fucking (m receiving), blindfold, um erotic asphyxiation for a blip - oops!!!, after care, sharing a bath, size difference, size kink, dom!joel but soft!dom joel yknow, the L word is said

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

This was messy. Joel had you flung across the bed with your head dangling, and the blindfold over your eyes made it impossible to tell where he was. But you can hear the heavy thud of his footsteps as they come closer to you and your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to find any sort of purchase. You were already getting dizzy.

“This for me?” You don’t mean to jump when his thumb circles your mouth, but you can’t see and your senses are on overdrive – everything going to your center. You swiftly invite him into your mouth, hot and wet and a vice for anything he has. He knows that, and utilises it skillfully. He pulls his thumb back, stifling a grunt when you pop off of him.

“All for you.”

It starts with the sound of metal, his belt unlatching. Then the unzipping of his jeans. You swear you hear the sound of skin slapping skin, but any thought is replaced by the salty taste of precum that covers your lips like gloss. You rapidly lick over your lips, making contact with the head of his cock and you borderline coo at the mix of feelings inside of you.

Then, he paints the head of his cock back and forth on your pliable lips, mutters praises of the plush set of lips in front of him before exploring your mouth – slowly at first, then all at once.

And to feel him, to taste him, with the blindfold is intense. Your mouth pulls wider than you think it does when he’s buried to the hilt of your throat, and you have to flare your nostrils out to get a good breath, to not completely sputter all over him. But he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he’s more in favour of using you and asking questions later.

So his hips jut forward, slow at first, then a steady fast rhythm and you cough a little – needing to adjust and you push him a little, enough for him to fall out of you as you gasp for breath.

“Nuh uh, you ain’t doin’ that, I’ll tie you up,” he warns, but you kinda like the threat. Maybe you push harder next time. You don’t get the choice to think anymore because he’s got your throat again, cock right in the back of it. “Such a hot fuckin’ mouth for me.”

But really, he’s so big, stubbornly so that your body is rattling to take it.

Not that Joel cares, it makes him more deplorable. Makes him meaner, to see you struggle. He takes his hand underneath his balls to clamp your nose shut teasingly. Your thighs shuffle on the bed and his trifling ass chuckles.

“Aw, breathe through y’er nose, baby,” he’s so menacing – so mean as you struggle for air, your senses overcome by the sawing of his cock down your throat and an inability to breathe through your nose because of his strong clamp. And god, you love it, you love being used like this, but it’s getting to be too much – you tap his thigh and he’s quick to let go and even quicker to pull out of your mouth.

You’re gasping, drooling, practically drowning in precum and saliva.

“Colour, darlin’”

“Green,” you choke out, and before you can even get your bearings he’s shoving inside your throat again, his hand overtop of it as he fucks you. You’re gagging, spit spilling over your eyes under the blindfold and you can sense he’s close just by how he tastes. By how the swell of his cock is getting bigger, if you could imagine it. Your jaw burned deliciously.

“Shit – so fuckin’ good for my cock. M’right there, sit tight.” your eyes roll back behind the cloth now that you’ve adjusted, now that his hand tightens around your throat as he uses it. All outright, yet symbolic – he owns you. Owns this throat, owns you enough to use you when he wants. And you, you want to be good for him. You want to lie still enough so he can work himself in the suction of your willing mouth, but hum muffles praises to send vibrations all throughout the length of him.

“Fuck – fuck, honey! I’m cummin’, perfect… fuckin’...,” Joel is too busy, too preoccupied to even finish his sentence because before you know it his hot seed is spilling inside; strong and bitter, right down your throat. You swallow repeatedly to quell it from coming out of your nose, and once he’s done, he pulls out of you. You can breathe again.

---

Once the blindfold is off, Joel runs a bath for you. Picks you up and strips you bare. His eyes are soft as they dance over your figure, his large hand folds out of your to take and you step inside the tub. The perfect temperature, filled with scents you told him you liked.

He may not use them for himself, but he pays attention. He wants to be a part of what you like.

“S’this okay?” And fuck, for someone so determined to be dominant earlier, he looks so shy. So soft, his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Wish you were in here,” you mutter, blinking with wide eyes at how fucked your voice sounds – you both giggle your reaction, though yours is a little more hoarse.

“Y’think we can both fit in there?” he raises a brow at you, and you look over his broad frame. The length of his shoulders, his body so firm and solid and you nod. “We’ll make it work.”

So you shift your body forward, and he scoots behind you once he strips naked. It’s slow, and the water tempts to spill over, but he eventually can rest back and you lean back in response. A deep belly hum comes over him and you do the same.

“S’nice,” he whispers, palming broad strokes over your petite shoulders in comparison. Water sloshing, you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“I love you, Joel.”

“I love you,” he noses your hair, arms around you protectively, “my whole world.”

You know he means it. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of the water surround you both.

You’ve never felt safer.

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