#to even how his fingers are twitching like the first movement of muscle after being so still... all from a mere glimpse of theo

[ectologia]

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝑅𝒰𝒯 ؛ 𝓀𝑒𝒾𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓂𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ forced breeding ﾉ forced pregnancy ﾉ clit spanking ﾉ creampie ﾉ misogyny ﾉ rut ﾉ baby trapping ﾉ feral keigo ﾉ piss ﾉ marking ﾉ profanity

Keigo’s bigger, softer around the edges but still with that slight cut of pristine muscle lining his torso and limbs. His wings thicken, puffy with a fat down blanketing them with gentle red bristles.

Sweaty too. He doesn’t want to wear any clothes. Granted, he says that all the time. But now it’s not just a want, it’s a need. A priority. He doesn’t feel fit to carry out his primitive desires when he’s being held back and restrained by all that stupid cotton and leather. He needs to be free, needs to let his manhood breathe. Otherwise how could he possibly carry out his responsibility as a daddy? That’s right, he couldn’t.

You leave him to his ludicrous antics of digging out nests in your bed. Making a fine art of curling every blanket, quilt and pillow in the house into a cushty barricaded circle atop your mattress, slapping at the cuddly pile of fabric with an almost crazed look, claiming that your “eggs” are going to be so warm and safe there. Or otherwise scenting you, rubbing his damp neck and hair all over your body, starting off with a gentle kiss to your temple, before sliding down your torso to rub his palms against that little pouch of flesh he knows he’s going to put his babies in, eventually.

Keigo doesn’t like the fact that you still insist on walking around the house fully clothed. He doesn’t, so why do you need to? You’re his mate, his wife, his other half. He knows it’s time to procreate, so why don’t you?

He follows you around the house on another one of your cleaning sprees. His nose wrinkles at the acrid scent of chemicals and lemon in the air, scratching at his throat and burning his sensitive nostrils as you continue to wipe the surfaces and spray away the scent of masculine sweat he worked so hard on drowning the house in. Do you really want another male entering his territory?

There’s only the slightest ring of yellow encircling his otherwise blown pupils. He tunes out after the first 10 seconds of your ranting and scolding. Something about how nobody’s going to “steal you away” if he doesn’t piss on the front door. Yeah, we’ll see about that, he scoffs to nobody but himself, plucking a bent feather from his rugged cape of crimson to flick and mould it back to shape, flicking at the fibrous hairs.

“Keigo, are you even listening to me?” You clap your hands in his face, attempting to garner his attention. “Hello?”

He doesn’t like that one bit, the flailed movements seeming all to similar to an opposing threat, a predator. He blinks away the carnal instinct to rip your arms out of their sockets and puncture your skull with his teeth. “Yes.”

“Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it. Can you repeat any of what I just said?”

“Stop pissing outside.”

“And what else?”

“And on the door.”

Glowing ember’s narrow as you huff, massaging your temples as you begin to pace, stomping about the kitchen with a cloth and spray bottle in hand.

He shudders at the sharp hiss of the pump, spitting at the granite counter and washing away his mark.

“Baby..” He draws closer, wings twitching at the irritating squeak of polished marble. Two large hands, both streaked with thick prominent veins clasp your waist in an attempt to bring your rear closer towards his erect, naked member.

“No, Keigo. Not right now, I’m busy.”

An elbow jabs at his ribs as you continue to scrub away at the surface, leaning over the edge with the pudgy mound of your pussy swaying against his cock and balls with a tantalising momentum.

Before you know it, the bottle is yanked out of your hand and chucked against the wall. The towel clutched between your fingers meets the same fate, ripped in two by a set of talons and left in shreds on the floor.

“Keigo!” You shriek, already pushing against him as he grips you by the neck. “Get off! What’s wrong with you!”

It’s a rhetorical question, and one he has no interest in answering anyway. Too busy with pulling the silk of your pyjama pants down to your toes, along with those stupidly skinny pieces of sheer string you seem to think pass as underwear. He can already see globs of slick bubbling along the apex of your pussy hole. He grins at the sight, running a bent knuckle through the valley of your puffy folds. At least your body knows what it was made for.

“Keigo, stop!” There’s a hint of panic in your voice, squirming as he squeezes the delicate tendons holding your spine in place. Holding you by the scruff as though you were a bad puppy.

He sighs, flecks of spit flying from his mouth in his crazed revolution. His wings extend behind him as he clutches his throbbing shaft in his palm, swirling and bathing the velvety tip in your cunny juice. “I’m sorry, chickadee. But this is just how it is in the real word.” There’s a solemn silence, a heavy seriousness to the air as though he wasn’t rubbing his pulsating slit against your clit, collecting its oozing wetness for an easier turn of events. “You gotta’ take what you want. Gotta’ just fuck it out. Otherwise, we’d go extinct.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “Wouldn’t we, honey bun?”

“Ngh — !” The edge of the counter jabs at your hip bones, rolling on delicate skin that’s sure to be bruised after the ordeal. Your waist bucks as he smacks his swollen tip against your nervous bud.

“Mmh, this is what you wanted.” He repeats the motion, flicking his wrist faster and faster until his spanking becomes rhythmic, slapping the sluggish weight of his member up and down on your pussy. It’s a strategic move on his part, torturing your poor sensitive clitty so you’ll be all that more grateful when he moves on to the main course. “Oh yeah? You like that?” He coos as your back hunches, unsure as to whether you’re trying to curl into the pleasure or away from the pain.

After collecting a sufficient amount of lubrication, he does the same, practically clambering onto the counter with your spine arched in his hands as though he were some type of feral beast or savage hound, hung and ready to fuck and breed his bitch. He squats over your quaking form, shoving you along the smooth surface until his drooling dick nestles itself neatly between the cleft of your asscheeks, bobbing against your scared twat with his tensed ball-sack swinging closely behind.

It’s a wildly contorted position, but one Keigo insists on nonetheless.

“Agh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grunts. “I’ve been waiting so fuckin’ long, and you just wouldn’t let me fuckin’ have it.” Pulling and tugging on your swollen labia, he separate your sticky little slit until all that’s left to shield you is the tense ring of muscle defending your hole. “Well, that’s fine by me chickadee.” He slips inside with a breathy chuckle, giggling and chortling to himself even as you yelp in pain. “I’ll just do it myself.”

It’s fast paced with an ill rhythm. There’s no love or care to be felt in his thrusts, just cruel harsh punishment, a means to an end until Keigo gets to pump his babies into your precious womb, fill you with his chicks so you can finally be a family. A proper family.

“Agh, and we can do Christmas, and Halloween, and go to the beach.” The thought is almost arousing to him, motivating him into humping your rear faster. “Won’t that be fun, little bird?”

He can be sure you’re crying, or at least close to it. He pays your silent tears no mind, blaming it on the excitement of your new life taking will.

“Kei, please! I told you, I’m not ready!” You arch your neck to plead with him.

His smile falters, twisting into something much more sinister and lecherous. He clamps a palm over the back of your skull and turns you back to the wall, facing your pitiful expression away from him. “You don’t need to be ready. I’ll do everything for you.” A calm hiss meets yours ear. “All you need to do, is lay back and take it.”

He digs into your stomach, smashing your insides to pieces as you lay paralysed beneath him. Cold marble presses against your forehead, cooling your fever as Keigo claps into you from above, a heavy set of hung balls knocking against you.

“Keigo!” You chant his name, broken as you wail out a string of pained moans.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna hear.” Keigo practically howls. “Let’s be animals baby!”

The domes of his knees crash down either side of you, evidence of his newly contorted position as he ruts into your cunt, foaming at the mouth where his teeth grind. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. Oh, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum. Gonna’ breed this pretty muff full ‘a seed.”

“Keigo, no!”

Funny you seem to think you’re still in charge. After this, you’re never gonna be empty again. He’s gonna stuff you one kid after another and as many as it takes until you become his cute little housewife. The kind that only cooks and cleans and looks after his babies while he’s out working and providing. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together sweet pea.

Keigo belts with laughter as you scream, thrashing and jerking beneath him as he spurts, spraying his seed deep inside your belly and then some. He slips out halfway, looking down to admire the ring of white sewing your gummy crevice together. “Mmh, now that’s what I’m talking about..”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Since you said you were looking at requests could you please do something with Dom Daryl with overstimulation, breeding, and cockwarming? Maybe after the savior war trying to get pregnant or any later seasons Daryl? It’s almost 6:30 in the morning so those are just the prompts that came to me first, anything you write with them will be wonderful, thank you 🩷

If I get a Little Prettier, Can I be Your Baby?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (post Savior's War)

Warnings: Poorly written smut; p in v; cockwarming; forced orgasms; overstimulation; a hint of breeding, I guess? A/N: This request has been sitting in my inbox for weeks. Gods, I am so sorry for making you wait! I'm even more sorry that I was all over the place with this so I hope it's just good at all. I tried, Anon! I promise!

“S’the matter? Thought ya wanted this?” 

Daryl was sitting against the headboard, just as bare as you. You straddled his hips, stretched around his cock and had been for—well, you weren’t sure. He had kept you there, softening slightly every once in a while only to press a thumb against your swollen clit to quickly bring you to orgasm. Your convulsing walls brought him to fully hard within seconds. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done it, sometimes not even needing the stimulation. He would be throbbing with just as much need inside of you and still worked at you until you came, shuddering and whimpering his name like a mantra. 

“Please, Daryl, I need—”

“Ya need to sit there ‘til I say diff’rent.” His voice was low, gravelly. Stern, even. You felt your cunt clench and his hips jerk. You were so sensitive, yet still craving him. He could work miracles with those fingers but being so full and stretched without feeling him drag along your inner walls was torture. He wasn’t cruel, never. There was a safe word in place, always, no matter who held the reins. Whether out of sheer stubbornness or overwhelming desire, neither of you had ever used it.

“Yes, sir.” You breathed. Your fingers were splayed over his stomach, his muscles twitching with each miniscule movement you made, though you tried to sit stone still. 

The battle with the Saviors had been won. Negan was imprisoned. Alexandria was being rebuilt. Everyone was working together and there was, for at least the time being, a feeling of relative peace and safety. While you had never officially married, you had become Mrs. Dixon in every way except on paper, and that didn’t seem to matter much in those days. You and Daryl had talked about a family before, but always seemed to find some reason to deny yourselves. His worries of becoming his father, Wolves, Saviors, and of course, the dead. There was always something. 

It wasn’t until Daryl had been locked in Negan’s cell that he came to realize that waiting was futile. The world would never be safe. If you wanted to have children with him, he loved you enough to travel that road with you. He’d love his children because they were a part of both of you.

This? This was the first session in what would be many “practice runs.” Or maybe one time would be all it would take. 

“You’re bein’ such a good girl. Wanna cum for me again?” He smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting that finger carve a trail down over your collarbone, circling your left breast before he pinched and rolled your nipple. You gasped and arched your chest toward him, making him hiss when your hips shifted. 

“S—sorry, sir.” You gasped, breathing heavily from just that slight stimulation. If he fucked you now, you feared you’d cum so quickly that it’d be embarrassing. From the twinkle in his eye, it didn’t seem like you were going to have a choice. You let out a squeak as he flipped you to your back, never separating from you but punching a moan from you both with the slight friction. 

“Think I’ve had enough’a toyin’ around. How ‘bout we get to work on puttin’ a baby in that belly?” Pressing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, a dance of tongues and teeth, he hooked the back of your right knee over the crook of his elbow and rolled his hips. You pulled back from him, lest you bite his lip, which he’d honestly probably rather enjoy. Another deep thrust saw your hips rising to meet his. He didn’t stop you or reprimand you, so it was safe to say this was all about the endgame.

“Fuck, you feel good.” You whined with your nails scratching over his shoulders, red marks all the way to where you settled your hands on his ribs.

“Yeah?” He knew the answer, even if he did make the next snap of his hips a little rougher. Raising your head, you nuzzled your cheek against his and placed your mouth against his ear.

“Don’t hold back.” You whispered, licking the lobe and then the spot where his pulse raced. Daryl growled, letting your leg drop. When he reached up to grab the top of the headboard with one hand and then the other, you knew you were about to get absolutely ruined.

And couldn’t have been more turned on by the thought.

With a smirk of your own, you chose to let your legs fall open as wide as they could, almost to the point of painful. You were soon digging your nails right into his buttocks. It started with a cadence of rough snaps, his pelvic bone and the coarse hair above his cock slapping against your oversensitive clit. He chuckled above you, knowing exactly why you were making those sinful little noises. Your humiliatingly slick cunt squelched with each push and pull of his cock, only adding to the debauchery that could potentially be heard by the others in the house.

You only dug your fingers in harder, drawing up your knees but keeping your legs wide open. “Come on, Dixon.” You panted, biting back a cry when the next thrust made you see stars. “I thought you wanted to fuck a baby into me. Put in a little effort.”

It was that moment, you knew you had fucked up. 

Daryl went motionless, looking down at you through that curtain of sweaty, dark hair. He had one brow arched. He never let go of the headboard but leaned down between his arms until he was nose to nose with you, the most deliciously wicked smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. 

“Ya better hold on tight, Sunshine.”

The first thrust shunted you straight up to the headboard, one hand releasing its hold on his ass to slap palm down against the wood and protect the top of your head. And then he was absolutely ruthless. Fucking feral. He used his hold on the headboard as leverage and fucked you at a pace you’d never experienced. Soon, you had let go of him altogether, both palms planted firmly against the smooth surface above you. You couldn’t stop shouting long enough to even let him know you were cumming. Once, twice. A third sparking to life low in your belly. His grunts and groans above you were just fucking delectable and you distantly wished you could focus on the sounds your pussy was coaxing out of him but the feeling of him just absolutely splitting you in two took precedence. 

“‘Nough effort for ya?” He panted, slowing only slightly, just enough for you to see him scanning you for any signs that you wanted to stop, that you needed to use the safeword. You scoffed at him. However, you couldn’t seem to speak, so close to yet another orgasm. You saw his grip loosen, knew he was getting concerned, so you communicated your consent by flattening your feet on the mattress and rolling your hips up to take him deeper, both of you groaning. He worked his way back to the same brutal pace, his cock swelling and twitching inside of you. He was close.

You were closer.

Drawing in enough breath, somehow assembling enough presence of mind, you moaned out “I’m—I’m close—Please—”

Daryl grunted, dropping down from the headboard with a hand on either side of your head. “Let go, Sunshine.” He commanded through gritted teeth. “Fuck, m’gonna cum.” You had just felt the first tendrils of pleasure rip from your core when he thrust twice more, stilling against you and holding himself deep with a guttural moan, his muscles spasming and body trembling. “Fuck!” You were too lost on whatever cloud he’d sent you to, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Your chest was arched into him until you felt the burn in your muscles suddenly dissipate and you collapsed to the mattress, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. 

Daryl was still thrusting into you lazily, dragging out both of your orgasms until you just couldn’t take anymore and twisted your hips to the side with a whine. He let you lie down flat again before gently, slowly pulling out of you, barely moving himself over before he collapsed into a trembling heap. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, burning as it slid across the flesh of your abused cunt.

It never failed that no matter how fucked out he was himself, your well-being came first. Rolling his head toward you, he gave you a once over. “Y’alright? Did I hurtcha? Ya didn’t say—”

“I’m so good that I don’t think I’m ever coming back down to earth, thanks.” You blinked lazily at the ceiling before turning your head, letting it lull toward him to meet his eyes with a lopsided smile. “My god, Daryl Dixon, you just rocked my world.” 

God, you loved it when he blushed. He could be an absolute beast in bed—as he had just proven—and then go red as a tomato—as he currently was. Licking his lips slowly, he turned to admire the ceiling at the same time you did. 

“I’ll get up in a minute an’ get us cleaned up.” He was finally starting to sound like he had found his lungs and put them back in their rightful place. You lazily waved a hand. “Are ya really alright?”

You nodded, smiling stupidly once again. “I may not walk right for a few days.” You moved with a wince. “In fact, when you get up to get that towel, can you grab me a wheelchair? I think you dislocated my vagina.”

Daryl, of course, looked mortified. “Oh, come on. I’m fine. Just a little sore.” Propping up on your elbows, you grinned at him. “Besides, payback’s a bitch and next time, it’s my turn.” He mumbled christ under his breath and rolled off the bed, staggering toward the bathroom while you stared intently at the perfect round of his ass. “I’ll find the blindfold and handcuffs tomorrow!”

[toruro]

— ✧ angel

pt.2

pairing: kim mingyu x reader

description. in which you’re mingyu’s girlfriend, so sweet and innocent that he can’t help but ruin you.

tags. smut (18+), boyfriend!mingyu, corruption kink, loss of virginity, size kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, pure filth honestly, but also kinda fluffy w/c. 1.8k

"angel," your boyfriend coos, lifting his head from between your legs as you lean back into the soft cushions of his bed. your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes shut tight as you try to steady your erratic breaths. "angel," he murmurs more intensely again.

the finger that's on your clit has ceased the circular movements that drove you into your first orgasm, and now are being traced down into your soaked folds. you twitch at the feeling, pussy still oozing with your cum and and mingyu's saliva, the two mixing into hot and filthy and dripping mess that has mingyu's brain circuits rewiring.

"m-mingyu," you manage to say meekly, finally opening your eyes to look down at your boyfriend who seems encapsulated by the fluttering petals of your cunt.

"you taste so good baby," mingyu praises, pushing himself up, bare upper body muscles flexing as he does so, crawling up and sliding his tongue into your mouth. you taste yourself against him, moaning at the way his arms cage around you, holding you down. "can't believe i'm the only person who ever gets to taste you," he mutters, pulling away.

your cheeks burn at the words—yeah, he just ate you out like you were the last meal he'd ever have, but having him say such stuff is embarrassing and...it's turning you on. "only yours, gyu," you affirm, reaching up to hold one of his hands.

mingyu watches the way you squirm at his dirty words, grinning because yeah you're his sweet, innocent girl, and yeah he's gonna fuck you silly until you can't think about anything but him.

the way your fingers lace with his remind him that you're here with him and that he's gonna do everything and anything to make sure that after tonight, you're never even going to think about wanting anyone else—he already knows your heart belongs to him (as does his to you), but somethings need to be fucked into you for good measures, right?

"you think you're ready, angel?" mingyu asks, and the look in his eyes is so sincere you forget about how you know he's going to pounce once you give him the green light. he's already slipping off his boxers and fuck, his cock springing free—you've seen it before (had it in your mouth two nights before when mingyu taught you how to give a blowjob) but now, this is different. you shudder at the thought of something so long, so thick, so perfect inside of you. all you can manage in response to him is a dumb nod of your head, eyes zoning in on his length as you feel heat pool at your core.

"i need words, baby," mingyu says sternly, directing your gaze back towards his face.

"yeah gyu, 'm ready," you agree quickly, hooking your arms under your knees so you can pull them up next to your chest, your pretty pussy all swollen and sticky displayed in front of him.

"fuck," he hisses when he sees your eyes glossy and lips puffy, shuffling forward as he sits up on his knees, he guides his cock between your legs, wasting no time to slide it between your folds. you let out a small squeak at the sound and fuck mingyu thinks he can cum from that sound alone.

you're just so cute and so sweet and so in love with him and the thought that he's going to be the first and the only one to experience this with you has his mind racing.

he covers his length in your wetness for a few moments and then he's slipping the tip upwards so it nudges against your clit. the stimulation has you jerking a little on the bed, and mingyu chuckles at your reaction. "so fucking cute," he mumbles, before you furrow your eyebrows and glance down at what he's doing.

when the realization dawns on you, your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

mingyu's sliding his length past your clit and up your stomach so far that his balls press against your core.

he's sizing you up.

he's trying to see just how far in he's going to be, just how deep he's going to fuck you, and by the looks of it, it's gonna be pretty fucking deep. mingyu lets out a breathy laugh, and you find yourself growing more and more desperate by the second. "gyu, please," you beg, shifting your hips so he can get the message. "wanna feel you so bad."

"me too angel, me too," he tells you, still staring down at the way his cock is so big it's reaching your stomach. your hand is still intertwined with his, and he brings it up next to your head so it's pinned down. "tell me if you want to stop, yeah? promise you'll tell me?"

"i promise." mingyu shifts above you after your words, and then you feel his his arm tip prod against your sopping cunt and that's when you know it's coming.

you suck in a breath when he pushes in, and even with the prep from his fingers and his tongue, mingyu feels so big and so full inside of you. "oh my god," you gasp as he pushes in further, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

kim mingyu is looking down at you with nothing less than pure adoration and absolute hunger.

your walls are hugging him so tight and you're so warm and—god he can't take this anymore—you're looking up at him with your mouth slightly open with small, breathy moans escaping your lips, and then there's those tears slipping from the corners of your eyes and an odd sense of pride fills his body.

he continues to sink his length into you, murmurings words of praise like, "you're doing so good baby," or, "just a little more angel, you can do it," and, "that's a good girl, my good girl," finally stilling once he's bottomed out.

your legs are shaking around his torso and mingyu massages the flesh of your thighs as he kisses you softly, doing his best to dull the ache that resides in your lower half.

"you feel so big—feel so full gyu," you moan absentmindedly after he pulls his lips away, and mingyu has to collect all the self control he's ever had to not snap his hips back and pound right into you. he lets out a heavy breath, dropping his head down so your foreheads can touch.

"god—fuck—you can't say shit like that," mingyu warns, and the way your eyes flicker up toward his all sparkly and innocent has his mouth running on a mind of its own. "i'm going to ruin you."

the way you squeeze him like a vise after his statement has mingyu groaning, rocking his hips into yours, a strangled moan escaping your lips. for a second, mingyu is scared that he's crossed a limit, but when he looks down at the drool that's dribbling down your chin and feels your fingers dig into the hard muscle of his back, he thinks otherwise.

"m-more," you manage out, swiveling your hips upwards so you chase more the feeling of mingyu's cock inside of you.

"angel, are you su—"

"you said you wanted to ruin me, right?" you beg desperately. "right gyu? so can you? please?" your voice is so raw and mingyu knows that he promised to fuck you silly, but it feels like he's the one who might just get lost in pleasure.

he wastes no time dragging his full length out of you, giving you less than a second's break before plunging his cock back in. your back arches off the mattress, chest pushing impossibly close to his as he grapples at your thigh, fucking you harder after every thrust.

your pussy is on fire in the best way possible—you've never felt so full before, and suddenly you're left wondering if you're ever going to be able to go on without having mingyu's cock buried deep inside of you.

squelching of your pussy's fluids echos through the room, in harmony with the slap of mingyu's skin against yours every time he sinks back into you. his length is pressing up, so massive inside of you, that you can feel every curve, every vein, and the intimacy of this all already has that hot, familiar knot bubbling up in your core.

"oh my god," you gasp, throwing your head back as mingyu adjusts his hips, hitting a new spot inside of you that has your nails pressing hard into the skin of his back. "oh my—fuck, mingyu!" you cry out as he leans up a little, moving his hands from yours and gripping your hips.

he's pulling your body into his with every snap of his hips, and the way your babbling on and on about how good, how full, how amazing this all feels—mingyu feels his own orgasm bubble up at the thought that he was somehow able to make his perfect girlfriend even more insatiable.

with his head lifted further away from you now, mingyu is able to glance over the full form of your body, and that's when he sees it. the sight has him stilling his movements, and through your cries, you look up at him with confusion. he reaches over, grabbing your hand and placing it on you stomach, and you instinctively run your palm over your lower belly until you feel it.

your head shoots up to look at it and there it is—the outline of mingyu's cock prodding against your stomach and all that's racing through your mind is 'mingyu, mingyu, mingyu.'

and then he's spilling out dirty words of his own as he pulls back and continues to the fuck into you, the imprint of his length disappearing and appearing every few moments when he thrusts back into, just as hard, just as deep as the one before.

"what a fucking angel," he grunts, "making room for my cock—fuck you're sucking me in," he moans as you clench around him, the coil that sizzles inside of you threatening to snap. "are you gonna cum baby? do it, fucking drench me angel."

and then you let go.

thrashing in his hold, you ride out your orgasm with fluttering walls and high pitches moans as mingyu fucks you through it, the sight of you reaching your end throwing him off his own. the feeling of hot, sticky cum shooting inside your fucked through cunt has you moaning, "mingyu! mingyu!"

hearing the way you call out his name, mingyu, in his post-orgasmic state, smiles to himself, watching you come down from your second high of the night.

in that moment, with your tear stained cheeks, limp limbs, and swollen pussy, mingyu knows that you were made just for him, and he would fuck you a million times over and more if it meant having you by his side.

a/n. hope u liked it! please leave likes/comments and reblog! pt.2 is right here!

[maxwapan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ Pain Breaks The Rhythm

title from pain by Boy Harsher

summary: Leon overstimulating you basically.

cw: reader has fem body parts and is referred to as she/her, smut, overstimulation, praise/degradation, crying during sex, Leon’s a little mean, straight up porn no plot lol

wc: 1,486

note: The Leon I had in mind for this was vendetta or death island Leon, but imagine whoever you’d like! Also, little warning methinks? But this is my FIRST smut so pleaseee take that into consideration lol.

Your eyes flutter shut, tears dripping down your jawline, skin heated and flushed. Everything is fuzzy, and your brain feels like mush.

Really, you don’t know how much more you can take. Has been it hours now? God, it feels like it. Your pussy feels numb, and you swear you can feel your heart beat in your clit.

“Leon,” you mewl, tongue heavy in your mouth, barley able to string together a coherent sentence. Though, at least it’s somewhat audible. “Leon— I can’t, please, s’too much.” the whine that leaves your swollen lips right after is downright pathetic, but you can’t help yourself.

Leon chuckles meanly, a smirk playing on his lips. He knows what he’s doing, of course he does. His thumb keeps on with that same firm circular motion on your pudgy clit, merciless and relentless. “Awe, poor thing,” he murmurs in feigned sympathy.

His muscles flex and bulge with each movement of his wrist, arm tirelessly working along with it to bring you to another mind-breaking climax.

Again, he knows what he’s doing. His hips move slowly, cock pumping into you like its been doing for the past hour. Slow, painfully slow. Slow enough to keep your brain fuzzy until he abruptly rolls his hips upwards sharply, eliciting a yelp from you.

“no, noo don’t do that, s’mean, please—“

Leon shushes you with his lips, cooing at you soothingly— only to make that same movement again, and again, and again. “Leonnn…” you whine, newfound tears welling up and spilling over.

“Shhh, baby,” he chuckles, “I got you. Besides, you can handle a few more, no?” he cocks his head to the side, tauntingly raising an eyebrow. His freehand moves upwards, index finger and thumb clamping onto a nipple and pinching.

You whimper, tongue lolling out while you softly panted. Eyes squeezing shut, you mewl in protest, body wriggling upwards in a pitiful attempt to escape the overstimulation. “noo, can’t, s’too much, can’t cum no more—“

A sharp slap is suddenly heard, and you squeak in surprise, hips jerking upwards at the sudden strike your cunt received. Leon gazes down at you expectantly, eyes narrowed, daring you to defy him. “m’sorry, didn’t mean to, promise. I’ll be good.”

Leon subtly smiles upon hearing your slurred apologies and pleads, his cold expression softening slightly. “There’s my good girl,” he coos, his freehand continuing to play with your pert nipples roughly while the other one toys with your clit, touch careless yet precise.

He tweaks one bud and then moves onto the other one, tugging and pinching instead. You whimper, each touch feels like electricity being sent straight to your clit. More slick leaks from your cunt, more than ever.

By now, even unable to think clearly, you know there’s a mess on the bed. A large stain that would surely take hours to clean out, the once light grey sheets now dark and moist with cum and juices. And it’s mostly your fluids.

It’s a thought that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and your heart skip a beat. Because you know Leon’s gonna tease you for it in due time.

“Almost there,” Leon hums calmly, his eyes almost pitch black with how blown his pupils are. His cock twitches inside of you, constantly reminding you of the fact that he gets off on playing with you like this. Playing is what he calls it. Torture you feel is more fitting.

“Lee… please…” you whimper, lips pouty and eyes glazed over. Gazing up at him through dark lashes, a single tear spilled, making you look even more pitiful than before— if that were even possible.

He must’ve been in a good mood, because for once, Leon did feel pity for you. “okay, honey,” the corner of his lips twitched, threatening to form into a triumphant smirk. And with that, he picked up pace, hands switching position to hold onto your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin and forming dimples around his fingertips. Ready to give you that final send into heaven.

His hips rammed into yours, flesh slapping against flesh and echoing in the otherwise silent room. His balls rhythmically padded against your ass, your pussy squelching loudly with every thrust.

“uhnn, oh gosh, Leon, ah!” you babbled incoherent nonsense, eyes practically going cross and drool slowly trickling down your chin. If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn’t know wether to laugh or look away.

Leon grunts, a soft groan leaving him when your slurred, angelic voice reached his ears. “Jus’ one more, c’mon. Fuck, you’re so wet. Pussy is swallowing me whole,”

Dirty word after dirty word escapes him, fueling the fire coursing through your veins like a dose of drugs. Your tits bounce up and down, and Leon is staring at them with no shame.

And he touches them with no shame too. His hands shoot out, roughly cupping the swell of your breasts, groping and squeezing in time with his thrusts. “Love your pussy. Love these too,” he grunts, his left hand moving downwards slightly to let his fingers pinch at your nipple teasingly.

That’s the thing about Leon, he just can’t keep his hands off you. Or stay still. It’s quite a combination, a dangerous one for you in this case. Because, god, you don’t think you can take anymore.

“Such pretty tits y’got. All mines, huh?” he growls, head ducking to take the swollen nub into his mouth, lips latching on and eagerly sucking. His tongue darted out, hot and wet, swirling and fluttering, heightening your already fucked out senses.

You whine loudly, a high pitched moan following right after. The mattress squeaks, the bed frame scraping against the floor, surely leaving marks that would cost a load to pay for. But that doesn’t matter when your brain is currently getting fucked out.

Leon picks up a punishing pace until his hips are rabbiting into yours, his grip on your tits almost bruising. Leaning back from your swollen nipple, he crashes his lips into yours, tongue thrusting in and fucking into your mouth.

You’re too dazed to respond properly, so you just suck and lick at his tongue dumbly, and soon enough it’s nothing but messy drool and spit being exchanged in this messy kiss.

“What a dumb fucking baby,” Leon coos mockingly, playfully nipping at your bottom lip, drawing blood. He laps at the crimson liquid soothingly, before planting a sloppy kiss against your forehead. The coppery taste lingers on his tongue.

That rush of adrenaline starts to gradually increase, until suddenly it feels like your brain is getting tasered— not as much as your pussy though. “Oh, fuck, fuck fuck, Leon— Leon m’gonna—“

“Yeah? Let it all out— yeah, there we go,” he rumbles, eyes glazing over momentarily as he took in the intensity and view of your orgasm. Your vision went white in a sudden hot flash of pleasure, so intense. It was too much, far too much. Overwhelming.

Hiccuping out a tiny sob, tears streamed down your cheeks while you whined against the intensity, thighs trembling and twitching violently. Leon held you close, holding your head up against the crook of his neck, murmuring reassurances and cooing praise.

He slowed down his movements, and you barely even registered the cum that shot up your pussy in loads, bubbling out against Leon’s dick and forming a foamy white ring around it.

“There’s my good girl. Yeah, jus’ let it alll out. I got you, honey. There there,” he went on over and over, lips planting sweet kisses all over your face, lingering on your cheeks before he pulled back reluctantly.

It was almost enough to make you forgive him. Almost. Well, maybe you did forgive him. You always did.

Gaining the strength to open your eyes, you whimpered pathetically, heavily panting as you attempted to catch your breath. “Lee… Leon… m’tired,” you mewled, eyes droopy and eyelashes clumped up with tears.

“Poor baby,” Leon cooed, “I know, I know,” he sighed, feigning exhaustion. Slowly pulling out of your abused cunt with a small grunt, his cock came loose with a loud squelching noise. He paused, watching as jizz slowly oozed out of your gaping entrance, painting the sheets beneath you with a puddle of white. Yet again.

The sight was enough to get his cock half hard once more despite the amount of times he’s cum along with you. But he’s willing to give you a break, for now that is. His calloused hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away some stray tears.

“You did so good, baby. I got you now, ‘kay?” he reassures, gently shifting himself off your body and scooting upwards until he’s at your side, spooning your quivering frame. “Jus’ relax with me for a little,” he murmured, lips lightly pressing against your collarbone.

He’ll clean you up in a bit, for now— some rest and recuperation is needed.

[narcissistshandler]

hello! Can I request a Taehun Seong x Top Male Reader x Yeonu Ji? Where the two compete on who can make the reader cum first? Like they are blowing the reader off in Yeonu bedroom, and the reader is desperately trying to cum but the two makes it hard since they keep unintentionally edging him because they keep arguing.

And then the reader has enough then just force his dick into their mouth and cums (you can pick on who's mouth the reader cums into), and basically ends with the reader fucking them until they can't think anymore, if it's alright with you

𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x ji yeonwoo x seong taehoon

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 amab!reader, blowjob (reader receiving), top!reader, bottom!yeonwoo, bottom&top!taehoon, light sub/dom dynamic, unintentional edging

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 I think this was lighter than you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway. Just three more requests, hang in there with me.

Your eyes fell closed, pure darkness filling your vision and a deep moan rising in the throat as you felt soft lips closing around the tip of your cock just above where the calloused fingers gripped the length. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, the sucking gentle and enthusiastic as Yeonwoo did his best to take you all the way into his mouth. His every movement was careful and experimental, as if he had studied up on how to give someone a blowjob and knowing your boyfriend well, you knew this could very well be the case.

As much as you wanted to thrust yourself deep into his soft mouth, to have more of that heat and wetness and those fingers tentatively pulling your cock while licking and sucking you, you didn't. You let him explore, watch your reactions and learn little by little even if the heat growing under your skin demanded otherwise.

After a long twenty minutes of being graced with Yeonwoo's enthusiastic touches and licks, you could no longer contain the urgency bubbling in your stomach. Your breathing quickened and your mouth opened, about to give warning as you felt the tremor start your his legs.

But apparently there was a person there more impatient with Yeonwoo's study than you.

"You're doing this wrong. Breathe through your nose." Came Taehoon's voice, his tone full of amusement despite the twinge of judgment. "Hold it tighter," he said, despite the instructions he seemed to mock your boyfriend. "Open your mouth wider."

And you could tell that even though Yeonwoo might be giving Taehoon an annoyed look, he still promptly followed the instructions, believing the tips given. His fingers tightened around you and your hips threatened to move when just the tip of your cock slid too close to his throat, the need building in your stomach, ready to snap...

Yeonwoo immediately backed away, coughing.

You opened your eyes, ready to make sure he was okay even though that construction had been brutally interrupted and all you wanted was to pull Yeonwoo back to you and push your dick back into his mouth, until you came deep down his throat.

“You don’t need to follow everything Taehoon says,” you reassured him, your voice deep and your breathing slowly slowing down from its labored pace. Your dick twitching in Yeonwoo's hand when you saw his flushed face, the glasses crooked on his nose and the saliva running down the lips.

Yeonwoo and Taehoon were kneeling at your feet. Yeonwoo naked, his own red and hard dick dangling between his legs, Taehoon on the other hand was just shirtless, his firm, well-worked muscles exposed and his tight black pants low on his hips, an obvious erection pressing against the fabric.

"You can do whatever you prefer, don't be in a rush."

Yeonwoo wiped the saliva running down his chin and a sweet smile curved his full lips. "Right."

“And it’s okay to choke,” Taehoon continued as if you hadn’t said anything. "[name] likes it when we choke on his dick."

Yeonwoo looked at you as if he was waiting for confirmation or denial, but Taehoon wasn't wrong, so you diverted the subject so that Yeonwoo wouldn't feel obligated to give you a deep throat. “I like whatever you two do,” you said and looked at your cock twitching between Yeonwoo’s fingers. "Do you want to continue?"

Taehoon smiled, half mocking your response and pressed Yeonwoo to the side with his shoulder. "Move on, my turn."

Yeonwoo rolled his eyes, but moved to the side and let Taehoon take his previous position. The hand that held you was gone, the heat and tightness denying you the pleasure, but Taehoon's larger, more experienced hand soon covered you, thumb pressing against the sensitive head as he pulled you in familiar slow thrusts, so firm, it almost became painful. Oh.

You moaned, Taehoon's warm, amused eyes watching your reactions as he leaned in and licked at the leaking slit.

“Fuck,” you cursed, one hand shooting out to grab a fistful of his brown hair.

Taehoon's pride-filled laugh sent a beam of heat through your stomach, his hot breath hitting your length wet with the mixture of his and Yeonwoo's saliva. Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth and took more of your length into his mouth, his outstretched tongue trailing along the bottom in a damn erotic display.

Taehoon was good at this, so good at everything he did, it was almost unfair.

Yeonwoo watched Taehoon's movements, seeming to make mental notes as he was unable to stop doing even at a time like these.

He leaned against your hips, kissing wherever he could reach while focusing his attention on how Taehoon swallowed your cock without much difficulty. Your other hand ran through his dark hair, a gentler reflection contrary to your fingers gripping Taehoon's hair.

"Let me try again," Yeonwoo said, there was a tone in his voice that indicated it wasn't a request at all, his hand shooting out to grab the part of his dick that was exposed when Taehoon pulled away. You inhaled deeply as you tried to push Taehoon back down. You needed this, badly.

Taehoon however, pulled away easily, despite the painful tug on his hair. The muscle in your leg twitched at the lost heat of Taehoon's mouth and you sighed deeply, leaving your boyfriends to argue and negotiate amongst themselves about sucking your cock, even though the urgency and need grew by the second, now having release denied for the second time.

"Wait your turn." Taehoon licked his lower lip, collecting the drop of saliva there, trying to displace Yeonwoo's grip with his free hand.

Yeonwoo didn't pull back, fingers closing tighter around you in response to Taehoon's movement, his short nails dug into your skin and you grunted in response, feeling like you could cum like this, with the pain and the pleasure and Taehoon and Yeonwoo arguing on your feet. They fought for power over your cock like a tug of war, neither of them backing down.

“You’re going to rip my dick off like this,” you growled, pulling both of their hair as a small form of punishment. What you really wanted was to bend them over the bed and spank their asses until they couldn't walk straight.

"Rock, paper and scissors?" Yeonwoo tried.

"Taehoon. Yeonwoo."

"Don't be stupid," was Taehoon's response, both of them ignoring the bite of scolding in your voice.

"So how do you want to do this?" asked Yeonwoo, as he took his hand away with a roll of his eyes. Taehoon also let go of you and seemed to consider a response. "Do you want to take tunes and whoever makes him cum first wins?"

Fuck this, you thought as you grabbed your dick and began to masturbate in quick, urgent jerks. You moaned loudly and their attention immediately turned to you, seeming irritated by your initiative to touch yourself. The displeasure on both their faces dissolved within seconds though, and they both leaned forward with their mouths open, tongues lolling out, and eyes shining expectantly. There was a little personal dispute there, you could say.

The muscle in your thigh pulled, shock traveling down your spine. Your free hand tugged at Yeonwoo's hair, bringing his face closer to Taehoon's, just seconds before your balls tightened and your dick pulsed, shooting thick ropes of cum that landed on Taehoon and Yeonwoo's touching tongues in an erotic scene, on the lenses of Yeonwoo's glasses and on one of Taehoon's sharp cheeks.

Curses left your mouth, feeling beads of sweat roll down your stomach as you continued to masturbate through the orgasm.

"Precocious," Taehoon teased as he swallowed, fingers catching what splashed on his face and bringing it into his mouth.

Yeonwoo just moaned, leaning down to lick the tip of your dick, and then suck, wanting to extract every drop from you. You continued to pull your cock through the hot sensitivity, feeling yourself spill even more into Yeonwoo's soft mouth.

"You two are a tease, you know that?" You grunted between your teeth and pulled Yeonwoo back to take him off your dick, then leaned down and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. "Get into bed, boy, my turn to play."

Yeonwoo was eager, getting on all fours in the middle of the bed and shaking his butt in the air. You stood up and gently slapped one of his small ass cheeks, which earned you a moan. Despite the sensitivity, you wanted nothing more than to fuck them into the mattress until your dick could no longer get hard.

“You too, Taehoon,” you ordered then, your voice breathless.

"What should I do?" he questioned, unbuttoning and pushing his pants and underwear down his legs, leaving him completely naked in the middle of the room. His dick was dripping wet, the tip an angry red. And he walked slowly to the bed, letting you drink in his nakedness.

Taehoon climbed onto the bed on his knees, the smile never falling from his lips. It was a little funny how Taehoon always seemed in control, even when asking for instructions and you knew he loved taking orders.

“I want you to enter Yeonwoo.” The reaction to the words were instantaneous, both of your boyfriends groaning at the mere thought of it.

Taehoon was more eager than usual, sticking his slender fingers into Yeonwoo's already stretched and lubricated hole to make sure he was stretched enough, before lining up his cock and pushing inside. The sounds they both made filled the room, overlapping. Taehoon grunted with his fingers squeezing Yeonwoo's slim hips, who promptly rocked back, taking Taehoon as deep as possible.

You had to squeeze your own cock to keep yourself from cumming once again as you watched the sight your boyfriends made together. Taehoon stopped moving once he sank completely into Yeonwoo's heat, panting as he waited for your permission.

Reaching for the bottle of lube, you moved even closer to the bed, standing behind Taehoon's tall, muscular figure. After wetting your fingers, you pulled one of his skinny ass cheeks away and touched his tight, dry hole. A sigh fell from Taehoon's mouth.

Unlike Yeonwoo who used to prepare alone, Taehoon was a little shy when it came to playing with that place and so he always let you or Yeonwoo stretch him.

“Fuck him,” you said, as you slid the first finger inside Taehoon, who clenched tightly around the intrusion. His hips shot out in one thrust, firm and urgent. Yeonwoo shouted. “Slowly,” you scolded him, using your free hand to pull his hips back and against you, letting your finger sink deeper. "Don't be in a rush, we still have plenty of time." And if Yeonwoo's father decided to arrive early from work, then well, he would have a not-so-fun surprise when he entered his son's room.

[ahqkas]

mhm no thoughts, head empty just ghost & könig helping you out in the gym (illusions of nsfw !!)

༉‧₊˚. as a soldier, the precious time in the gym was something you needed because your strength and stamina didn’t come with you from your mother’s womb. the base’s gym was your first choice in the decision which gifted you in the way of two gym partners: ghost and könig

༉‧₊˚. their choice of clothing is rather eye catching to you, the tight compression shirts and tank tops that hug their muscled frames with ease and show off their pump after the workout (you are ashamed to say that you enjoy the sight of how their muscles bulge under the clothes). their ripped chests, wide shoulders and upper backs drive you crazy and the image of their biceps being the size of your head makes you feel some things you shouldn’t feel

༉‧₊˚. just imagine ghost standing above you as you laid down on the bench with a bar moving up and down towards your chest, his meaty thighs almost touching the crown of your head with how close he was to you. his arms were by his sides, twitching occasionally when he noticed the struggle you were going through and eventually wrapping on the place next to your fingers when you couldn’t push the bar anymore. the source of your distraction was the sight of his tattoos in your peripheral vision, the ink on his forearms sent a tinge straight to your stomach which caused the bar go down. ghost mostly coaxed you to trail till failure, his deep accent reaching your ears as you bench pressed another rep. “come on, lovie, i know you’ve got one more in ya.” the sudden urge to please him and prove his words to him was strong and you actually managed to do another rep, surprising yourself and making ghost proud of you. “see? you did great.”

༉‧₊˚. könig made his job to spot you during squats. at first he’d instruct you how to work with the bar so you wouldn’t hurt your spine, his big palms moving to adjust your smaller ones on the bar so they were in the right placement. the warmth of his calloused skin caused your head to spin and his close presence didn’t help as well. when you got the form right, the austrian man would stand behind you, going up and down with you as you squatted carefully. his hands were hovering in the air right beneath the bar, letting you know he wouldn’t let you fall no matter what. he was standing so close you could feel his chest slightly touching your arched back and his crotch was almost pressing to your ass every time you went down. just like ghost, training till failure was the right way to workout in this man’s mind and he made sure you would do just that. “one more for me, hase, yeah? you can do that.” and of course, you did what he asked. “that’s it, schatz, you’re doing so good.”

༉‧₊˚. when the gym doesn’t have an assisted pull-up machine and you aren’t able to do a pull-up on your own yet, they’re both eager to help you out, big hands grabbing onto your hips and assisting you up and down in your movements like their palms found the place they belonged to (your hips). and later on, when you can finally do ten pull-ups in row on your own, their hands somehow refuse to let you go, softly resting there as you moved without their help

༉‧₊˚. to wrap it all up, working out with ghost and könig can be exhausting and make you feel all sore, but in the end it’s all worth it because you’ve got all their attention on you 🤭

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Prey

Recom Quaritch x AFAB Recom Reader

Summary: You and Quaritch are out on a mission, but there's something wrong with him!

No plot, just smut ( •̀ ω •́ )

Warnings: Dub/con, predator/prey dynamic, semi public sex (in the forest)

Hot, sticky and wet. The forest of Pandora was a hard climate to feel comfortable in. Your tank top clung to you skin, the sweat constant but never cooling the heat under your skin. A constant buzz rang in the air, thousands on unseen insects skittering about on the foliage.

Quaritch strode ahead of you. The muscles in his back shifting as he maneuvered over branches and rocks. It was a sight to see and all the motivation you needed to keep pace.

It was not like you never thought of him before but ever since you came back it was non stop. Maybe one death was enough to make you reevaluate things. To start thinking about going for all the things you wanted. Or maybe it was just his new found youth, all perky muscle and sly grins.

It was nice to be on a smaller team with him. He'd hardly shown you any interest as humans, after all you were one of hundreds. Now being in a group of a dozen made you stand out.

You ate it up. Every smirk, comment, joke, hell even touch, sent a buzz through you like nothing else. You reveled in the attention from the man you found so intriguing.

Only now he'd gone quiet. You were alone together for the first time and you worried what he was thinking. He'd been chatty before at the drop off point. He'd signaled the groups off to their scouting paths and been normal.

Quaritch seemed to think this was a fools errand and hadn't been taking it seriously. Forgoing stealth in favour of telling you about some funny mishap he and Wainfleet had gotten into. This kept up until about half an hour ago, when he'd trailed off.

A few times you'd made a comment now only for him to ignore you. It stung but you bit your tongue. Maybe he'd spotted something you hadn't? You kept your ears open for any hint of some snapping or rustle of an enemy.

You almost walked into his back, catching yourself at the last moment and not making contact. Quaritch had gone stiff, body frozen with his arms slack at either side. His gun was just barely dangling from his fingers and ready to drop if he so much as twitched.

"Colonel?" You questioned as you cautiously stepped round his form. His face was scrunched tight with his eyes closed and chin raised to the sky. You watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. His jaw clenched and you noted how tense his muscles had gotten suddenly. Veins popping against skin with some struggle you couldn't perceive.

You reached a trembling finger to his arm, just above his elbow. "Miles?" You whispered, unwilling to fully break the silence that clung in the air.

The moment your finger tips made the slightest contact Quaritch's eyes shot open. The sudden movement startled you and your hand shot back as if burned. The intensity of his gaze now locked on you set your hair on end and a panic bubbling in your gut.

Quaritch's shoulder shifted ever so slightly and before you could even think it you were running. Stumbling over branches, round trees and over rocks. Boots thundered behind you closing the distance quickly.

You cursed, dropping to the ground and letting his shins slam painfully into your curled body. He fell into a roll, skidding to a stop on all fours.

You'd began to feel silly for running off like that until his eyes burned back at you. There was an anger there you'd rarely seen outside of battle. His lip curled baring a hint of fang, whilst his tail thrashed behind him. You felt your own mirroring his, ears up and alert.

Quaritch moved just barely, a slight shift from one foot to the other. You stayed frozen watching his face scrunch, ears pinning back. He took a sharp breath through his teeth before his fist hit the dirt.

"Miles?" You tried again. He shook his head in return but stayed put. You shifted up onto the balls of your feet and his ears swiveling to face you but his eyes still shut tight.

As quietly as you could you inched forward. Quaritch remained a statue thought his tail still thrashed. You continued to cross the distance trying your hardest to remember lessons of the flora of the planet. Had he been poisoned? He'd began acting off 30 minutes into the trek, so something must have changed.

You were less than a foot away when his head snapped up. You froze your approach but the damage was done. Before you could even turn he'd pounced, his weight bringing you down fast onto the leaf litter.

The air left your lungs in a sudden rush. His weight pressed you further into the dirt. Quaritch's large frame was oppressive in the heat of the forest. His hands burning against where he held your wrists, now pinned above your head.

You tried to shift under him but his hip pressed almost painfully into your own. You bucked as you tried to create some space as the hot solid mass of him pressed further between your legs. You felt your core shift along something hard and Quaritch groaned.

oh?

Oh.

Your mind reeled at the new stimulus but your thoughts quickly clouded as he moved. Rolling his clothed erection against you as his head dipped to your neck. His tongue ran along the column of your throat to your jaw. He paused there to leave open mouthed kissed before nipping your ear between his teeth.

"Wait!" You breathed out. Your voice sounded ragged and was hardly commanding but still it seemed to reach him. He pulled back quickly. The his hand left your wrists and you quickly got to work.

The air was too close and the layers needed to go. Quaritch caught on quickly and in a moment his own hands joined your own. You both fumbled as you tried to pull garments off eagerly. His own shirt joining yours being tossed aside.

His hip pulled away from your own as you wriggled your shorts down. Quaritch hovered over you, looking down with blown pupils and a hungry look. Arousal curled tightly in your stomach as you took the moment to admire his sweat slick abs. His wide chest heaved in rapid breaths as his hand dipped to tug himself free.

He was big. Well maybe big was an understatement. The blue skin carried the same stripes that adorned his thighs and ended with a leaking purple head. You reached to his stomach and let your hands trail down.

Before you could get to his hip he pounced again. You were pinned down again. With one hand gripping your wrists together as the other traced your folds. Even in this state he was gentler than you expected. One finger slipping into you as you keened. Your body arched to him as you sought more contact.

His thumb brushed against your bud in rhythm with his thrusts. He moved to circling as he added another finger and curled it inside you. You moaned as he reached the right spot and tried to buck your hips against his hand.

Quaritch growled as he removed his fingers. You whined at the loss of contact. Your own high ebbing away as your walls clenched at his absence. He let go of your wrists and moved up onto his knees. Towering above your prone as he brought his fingers into his mouth.

He cleaned each digit, eyes closed and savoring. You propped yourself up on your elbows as a sudden bolt of embarrassment hit you. You were naked out in the woods with your superior officer licking your juices from his fingers. Gods what if Wainfleet or the others found you?

"...Sir...?" You began to ask.

Quaritch's eyes snapped back to you. His lip curled as a low growl escaped him again. A pang of fear hit your gut but you couldn't move. He grabbed your elbow, pulling you up and spinning you before slamming you back down.

You caught yourself, hands and knees digging into the forest floor. Strong hands seared your hips as you gripped you. Quaritch tugged your hips back and your hands slipped. One large hand pressed down your now arched spine. He found the base of your queue wrapping it around his fist and tugging lightly.

You cried out. It wasn't especially painful but something in the action felt deeply humiliating. His other hand moved across your ass, he gave a quick grope before his thumb spread the lips. It felt cold suddenly, the dripping core more exposed to the air around you.

It didn't last as you soon felt the hot head of his cock brush against you. He pressed in just a little, the head stretching you deliciously. You moaned, desperate to push back but his grip on the base of your skull kept you pinned.

With a slow push he stretched himself in, stilling at his hilt. You could hear his breath strained and could imagine the way his face would have twisted. Deep frown lines as he hissed at the tight heat enveloping him.

Your walls clenched around him, trying to create a friction you desperately craved. He took the hint, dragging himself almost entirely free before sinking back in. His first dozen strokes continued in this languid fashion.

His hand on your ass dipped around to the front. His chest shifting down to your back to deepen his hits. You moaned wantonly and he sped up. Hips snapping against yours as the forest seemed to echo the lewd noised emitting from you both.

Your head felt light and you were seeing stars. Any thoughts of the others forgotten as Quaritch finger danced around your clit. The heavy weight of your orgasm was fast approaching. It tightened in your gut as your walls fluttered around him.

His mouth was by your ear, fanning hot breath against the shell. His groans drove you closer to the edge. Then your felt his fang nip the skin of your neck, dragging the smooth edge of tooth before scraping again.

"Come for me baby..." He moaned out. His breathy voice tipping you over the edge as wave of euphoria washed through you. You cried out, cursed, sang his name as he road you through it.

His own strokes sped up as your high milked him to his own. Quaritch's hand left your clit and trailed down to your throat. With a quick pull he tugged you up. Your back pressed against his chest and his hand tight around your throat as he thrust. His other forgetting your queue in favour of roaming around your bare skin, groping and pinching.

You were limp against him, just allowing him to chase his own high as the aftershocks of your own numbed your thoughts. His strokes became sloppy as he strained a moan against your hair. Then he was pulling out and his warm seed was leaking down your leg.

He dropped back to sit on his knees. His firm grip around you keeping you upright as he rubbed soft circles against your thigh. His head tipped low to kiss at the back of your neck.

"Mine" He whispered against your skin.

[tinum]

Hands of Nihility - Blade x Reader

Summary: Blade is in a coma for so long everyone around him dies. Warnings: OOC!! not proofread Word Count: 991 Notes: I'm so critical of my own work I struggle to write. Sorry for any mistakes. The ending feels rushed tbhh Also would this be classified as angst? Is it sad enough???

Nothingness is all that surrounds him—a blank canvas with no defining traits for him to focus on. There was no sense of time in the darkness, nothing to separate night and day. He had kept count when he first arrived. His thoughts kept track of each minute that comprised the hours, hoping his stay would be brief, but he soon gave up. Counting seemed useless if he believed he would be tapped here forever.

He wasn't even sure he could move. He went through the motions of movement, one foot in front of the other, but nothing around him changed. There was only emptiness to move past, nothing tangible. He couldn't even feel anymore. He looked down to where his hands should be clenching, but he saw nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing.

He recalls the moments that led him here. You were fighting beside him against a deity, doing as Elio told you to do. He knew you were strong, so he had no issue when you asked to accompany him. He was promised the assignment would be simple: an unknown god whose sole strength was the stellaron it housed. But, as soon as the god released a blinding light and you were tossed to the side like a ragdoll, He realized that you were still human; there were so many ways you could shatter and break. He should have never agreed in the first place. How selfish.

His teeth gritted as he raised his sword towards the being. The battle was hard fought, the entity was fast. Blow after blow tore through his skin. His own immortality couldn't even heal the wounds fast enough. Though he persisted, the god eventually grew tired, exerting all their power on a being that could not be killed. He had won; the universe may have favored them, but he was immortal. However, when the god fell, so did he.

Perhaps this was the demise he had yearned for. After years and years of constant agony, has he finally reached his goal? No, this couldn't be death; this felt more like a prison. He was forced to feel nothing, see nothing, yet he still existed.

Blade often fantasized about death, specifically his own. He believed that when a person passes, their body would be enveloped in a warm blanket, a safe and comforting feeling. Maybe the sensation of familial love would surround them, and the smell of their mother's cookies would waft up their noses. The ending of his life was supposed to be peaceful; his conciseness would fade, and he would cease to exist altogether. This was not peaceful; it was empty and… cold.

A shiver runs down his spine. Something so foreign to him, he can't help but cherish the feeling. Tingles rush at him full force, millions of needles hitting him all the way from his toes and traveling to the top of his body. His head snaps down, hoping to see the familiar view of scarred hands. Yet when he looks, his eyes see nothing. He slowly lifts his head, a pinprick of light far into the distance.

He tries to move, one two, yet the light hasn't gotten any closer. He stares as the light flickers in and out, fluctuating like a star. He hopes to reach out and capture it, but hands of nihility cannot grasp.

Suddenly, the light pounces at him. His vision erupts with blinding color, and his ears burst to life with a deafening ring. Just the noise makes him want to groan out, but his throat feels as if he swallowed sandpaper. He knows he should be elated by the sudden use of his ears, but in truth, it only annoyed him. Instead, he inhales harshly; his lungs expand with the cool, crisp air as a sterile scent invades his senses.

His muscles reawaken, and his fingers twitch as his ability to control his body returns. He slowly cracks his eyes, and blurry figures morph into full ones as his eyes open. It was mostly dark, with only a small crack in the shades providing some illumination. Dust floated through the light, calming and peaceful. He feels serene; he feels alive.

His body feels like it was filled with sand, a heavy weight keeping him from moving. As his strength slowly rebuilds, he takes the time to look around. A sense of familiarity fills him as his eyes flicker around. On the walls hang medical posters diagnosing issues and addressing questions. He remembers the posters; he had read them countless times, over and over, whenever he visited. His gaze shifts below the posters; chairs are lined against the wall, and a space sits between the two.

His eyebrows knit together as he looked at the gap. The space was unusual. Whenever he stopped by, it had never existed. A third chair usually occupied that space. His eyes dropped down as he began to think.

As his eyes lower, something on his lap catches his eye—a silver sparkle shining from the only ray of light illuminating it. A beautiful ring rests around a skeletal finger, one he had seen millions of times. The ring was the very same as the one he had gifted you the day you exchanged vows.

He gently lifts your hand. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, my love." As he brings your fingers to his lips, he wishes he hadn't woke up. He wishes he remained in his coma, believing he was dead. That way, he wouldn't know that this was his reality. He would live in blissful ignorance, unaware of your passing.

The sight of you sitting there for so long, your body wilted with time, filled his throat with acid. You waited for him, for a day your lifetime would never account for. And still, you wait—patiently, for a moment that will never come. Waiting for the day when your lover takes his final breath.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Shimmering Silk (Jamil x GN!Reader)

You tucked your knees under your chin, eyes trained on your three friends. Just feet away from the shore, Deuce, Ace, and Grim were building a sandcastle; they claimed it would be “Even better than Night Raven.” You’d be the judge of that. A little small twitched at your lips as the three bickered on how their masterpiece should be built. Even at the best of times, the three just couldn’t seem to get along for more than a day. Deuce was definitely the most mature of the three, but like the other two he had his stubborn moments. Once again, you were not only there to watch their shenanigans, but also to make sure those schemes didn’t get out of hand. 

There was movement a distance behind your friends. Your eyes trained on the large rock that jutted out of the blue-green waters of the sea. It was close enough to shore, but far enough to reach the deep waters - which was why so many students had flocked there to take a dive. You spied Ruggie’s head rise from the gentle waves; he must have been the one that just dove in. He shook his head, hands coming to wipe water from his eyes as a grin spread across his face. He cast his gaze up in the direction of the other divers, and though you couldn’t exactly make out what he said, the motion of his arm signaled for the next to come down. 

On top of the rock you saw four figures: Jamil, Kalim, Cater, and Epel. Jamil was at the front of the line, the others behind him looking eager for their turn. Kalim patted Jamil on the back in a show of encouragement - something you knew the man didn’t need. As elegant as a swan, the man dove into the sea below, so smooth there was barely a splash. For a moment there was nothing - Jamil was nowhere to be seen. Seconds later, he finally rose. He threw his head back as he surfaced, his beautiful, silken black locks making a perfect arch as it flipped back behind him. You were in awe at just how gorgeous one man could be. 

The fact only made itself more apparent when Jamil came to shore minutes later. Water droplets glimmered upon his skin and dripped down his body, highlighting every curve and crevice. His lean muscles flexed as he fixed his hair; you were always impressed by how fast he could redo his entire hairstyle so quickly and effortlessly. You watched as Jamil made his way over to the cabana Kalim had rented for himself and others to use, his back now facing you. Jamil picked up a towel - his towel - and began to dry himself off; you almost mourned every droplet that was soaked into the plush cotton. 

“Hey!” Fingers snapped in front of your face, startling you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to meet Ace’s eye. “We’ve been calling you for, like, five minutes now. You good?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine!” you stuttered. “I was just, uh-”

“Admiring the view?” You wanted to slap away that shit-eating smirk across the redhead’s face. He laughed as you shot him a glare. “C’mon, you can’t deny you! It isn’t the first time - and your red cheeks just give it away.” 

“Something wrong?” Deuce asked as he walked over, bucket tucked under his arm. 

“Nah,” Ace replied, thumb jutted out in your direction, “[Y/n] here’s just drooling over Jamil, no big-” You picked up your plastic water bottle and threw it at Ace’s head. He let out an ‘Ow!’ as it met its mark. “What the hell?!” 

“Would you shut up?!” you hissed. “You’re being too loud!” 

“Didn’t have to hit me for it!” Ace argued, hand rubbing his temple. “Mr. Eye Candy isn’t listening anyway.” 

Before you could tackle the man to the ground for a pummeling, Grim called out from the sandcastle-in-progress. “Hey! I need more wet sand!”

“I’m on it!” Deuce called back. Before he ran off, Deuce gave Ace a flick to the forehead and a small glare. “Quick being a dick, Ace.” 

Ace glared after him and let out a huff as he stomped back to the sandcastle. You sighed and shook your head, picking your water bottle up from the sand. You realized then that you hadn’t closed it all the way…well, looks like you’d have to get another. You hoped they weren’t too expensive around here. Before you could even leave your towel, however, someone else trotted up to you. 

“Here!” It was Kalim. He held a water bottle out to you - one of those fancy metal ones. “This is for you!” 

“Oh, uh, thanks!” You gave him a smile as you took it. “I…spilled mine just now, so you came just in time.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Kalim’s bright grin was like the sun. “Jamil told me.”

Your heart stopped. Panic filled your system as you looked over to the cabana, just in time to see Jamil finish taking a drink from his own bottle; you tried not to pay too much attention to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with the final swallow. His towel was now draped over the back of his neck…you kinda wished you were the towel. As if he sensed you mildly (liar) ogling him, Jamil’s dark eyes glanced up in your direction. For a second, his expression was unreadable, the same as it usually was - and then a smug smile stretched across his handsome face. It hit you then: He’d either overhead what Ace said, or he’d known you were looking at him the whole time. You quickly looked away from him, face burning in embarrassment. 

You barely heard Kalim above the blood that pumped in your ears. “I thought we could all have a cookout later tonight. You’ll be there, right?”

Though your mind was muddled with flustered thoughts, you answered him. “Y-Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Great! See you tonight then!” 

You honestly wanted nothing more than to bury yourself in the sand. How were you going to face Jamil at the cookout - or at any other point ever again? This was all so embarrassing! 

But…if Jamil knew of your attraction to him, nonetheless had Kalim deliver the water bottle to you, then…maybe…he might feel the same? A very big leap of faith that was…but you might never get to shoot your shot again. You clutch the water bottle close, the cool metal feeling nice against your hot cheeks. You turned your eyes back on your three friends, tried to solely focus on them and their building endeavors. But every so often, your eyes would wander back to a certain Scarabian - and, sometimes, he would already be staring right back at you. 

[scentedpepper]

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. III | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 4 Pt.5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader

Author Note(s): Don't mind errors, I edited this half asleep

Things get less gender netrual here with he/him pronouns being used

The storm is back. The rain is pounding down on the window and you're not sure how much time has passed, only that the windows are practically fogged up now and Luis seems to have all the areas of your body that hurt wrapped up like a mummy.

You stay void of the areas that have bandages plastered to them as you wipe the grime from your body with a rag. When the water in the tub has turned a brown color you drain it and fill it halfways again, like a mop bucket.

The bathroom is silent other than the continous splash of soapy water and the scrubbing sound that emits from the rag moving too harshly against your skin. Your hair is damp, pushed back and out of your face.

And though you can hear Luis rummaging around in the other room and you can faintly smell something being cooked, it's not enough of a distraction to pull you away from your thoughts. It was stupid coming here without a word. You knew that. And you were dreading what would come after.

It was just a bad move.

Luis, bless his soul and his ability to set up a good atmosphere and help you feel comfortable, had taken to leaving you alone and making you ease into the change of setting. It would be rude not to appreciate it, or try to find a way to ask for his forgiveness instead.

You sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the tub, hands dipping into the water to unplug the drain and let the it escape. You step out after watching it swirl and swirl and swirl. But your movements feel slowed, as if the moment you step from this bathroom, your responsibilities come back to you. –Not that they ever left.

So you stay in there for a while, staring at yourself in the mirror. You comb through your hair with your fingers. More time than necessary is taken to check over everything. Some blotches and bags have formed underneath your eyes, tiredness seeping into your muscles, showing itself in different parts of you. It makes you annoyed. Wanting to leave, get your partner, go home.

"Mierda. " Luis cusses and you can only guess it's because he's burnt his finger on the skillet.

It's enough to move you away from your head and you reach for the boxers the man leant you without a second thought. You step into them slowly, and you pull them up even slower before settling on yourself in the mirror again, adjusting the waist band.

Your shoulder hurts and so do your hands, but everything else feels less stiff. You have one hand resting on the mirror as you gaze at yourself. More marks from various different missions litter your face. It wasn't unusual to forget what the normal you used to look like.

Your eyes are droopy, your features weighted with tiredness. But before you know it, they're changing, switching rapidly and you're grabbing your gun from the counter top. Suddenly, all your exhaustion is gone and you feel your body shoot to the exit like a missle.

Your eyes are wide when you burst through from the bathroom and your bare feet cause a crunch when you're left to stand on the door that's been knocked clean off its hinges laid in the middle of the walkway.

Your gun is up, arms outstretched the moment you turn the edge of the door frame and your finger is twitching at the trigger. You don't see anything at first, but when you pursue deeper into the room, your tense shoulders fall at the sight.

Luis is pressed against the wall, his hands are up in surrender, and there's a gun digging into the side of his turned face.

The food has been discarded, onto the floor, the skillets face down, the tables on its side.

Everything has gone to complete dissary in a matter of minuets.

"Where is he?" The voice is deep, angry and littered with resentment.

"Has interrumpido la cena, amigo. "

"In English. " The cold steel is pressing harder.

"Leon, let him go. " The words come out of your mouth with the breath you'd been holding.

The gun lowers so fast it may as well have turned back into air, never even been there at all. And you watch Luis retreat away from the opposing partner who has yet to even look at you, hands still raised in the air.

You're just standing there, near nudity, staring. Staring at the gradual lowering of Luis arms. Staring at Leon's back. Staring at Ada.

Staring at him.

When he finally turns around, his gaze moves straight to you before it darts over the bandages and all the bruises littered across your body. He's frozen at the sight of you and he keeps trailing all of your injuries but his face is unreadable.

His eyes go down your arm, stop at your ring. Flicker back up to the underwear.

"Put this on. " He says suddenly, jerking his upper body, and your eyes have already found the fabric flung towards you, plucked from your lost bag by the time his hand has released it.

You've already gathered that he's angry but this is no explosion and your eyebrows are creased in concern.

"How did-? " You ask cautiously and the last syllable of your sentence is barely heard as Leon turns his back to you.

"We're leaving. " He says bluntly and you hesitate a bit, slowly putting the pants on anyway.

"Leon, " its the beginning of Adas reasoning. "It's dark, we should wait out the storm. Your partner needs rest. " She shakes her head with a sigh. "Just look at him. "

As Ada refers to you, Leon's eyes stay solidly on her. You can see the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see him taking in a deep breath before addressing the situation. You can hear him when he speaks, when his eyes drill through anyone who looks at him.

"We have nowhere to go but forward. He'll have tough it out. “

Leon stares a bit longer, his words for you, for Ada, for Luis. He's just as emotionless when he's talking as when he was earlier and his fists clench and flex with the tense atmosphere he's created.

Leave it to Luis to never learn when to shut up.

"¿Perdón?" Luis takes one step forward. "He stumble in here, his poor body being bruised and broken. What were you doing in the moutains in the first place?" His hands are flat out, throwing questions the other man's way and the glare he receives only makes his eyes bigger, his movement more emphatic. "He has to rest! You want him dead?" His exclamations are fueled with exasperation.

Ada is not helping at all, staring silently and watching Leon out of the corner of her eye like she can tell what's about to happen.

"Don't be dense. You took his shirt off, didn't you?" The look on his face twists slightly, anger brewing, mixing with the other emotions that have started to surface. You've known him long enough you're able to read a few pages. "He doesn't need rest. " He squints. "He needs to get back in his gear and learn what it means to follow orders. "

That one gets you. It heats you to your core.

"Estúpido!" He grunts. "You won't even take the time to- to, " A hand gestures lazily. "take a moment and look at him. Look around you! " His hands swing wildly again.

Your face scrunches at the thought. "Luis. " You try to interject, huffing as you step forward, putting yourself more into his field of vision, but it doesn't work. They both ignore you all together.

"What's next, Captain? Hmmm?" He keeps rolling out with it. "This?" He swipes his forearm outwards, gesturing to your person. "Is this next? His death?" His hands bang together before gripping the air. "Another funeral you have to plan?"

That tears Leon apart. Splits him like paper. And the only way he can think to retaliate is with anger and harsh tones and the rebuttal comes from him almost faster than you can blink.

"Maybe if he could afford to listen! Maybe then, I won't have to push him so hard! To look at what his failures lead too!"

The accusation pisses you off more than anything has in a while.

"Leave. " You say and you're trying to keep things under wraps before they get more out of hand. The single word is pushed out fast and the way you're folding your arms over your chest helps you hide some of the hurt and the clenched expression you wish not to display.

Leon, stubborn and angry, doesn't listen.

"Yes, leave, hermano!" Luis insists.

"Maybe we should step out. " It's Ada speaking up now, her voice carrying a certain amount of calm and seriousness, but she makes no move to go, she simply addresses Leon.

Leon's reply is swift. "We have a mission. "

"Just to breathe. " She clarifys, holding the bridge of her nose, her lashes kissing and mingling together when she closes her eyes before she's sighing. "Why do we have to hold him prisoner? He looks like shit, Leon. " Her arm reaches to push her hair back.

A beat passes.

"Your mission can go to shit too. Like that. " She snaps her fingers in the air.

You know she's right, the both of you.

There's a silence that wafts over the air, like the calm before the storm, and you know it has hit Leon. That the words that have been spoken are sticking and he is analyzing all of them like a puzzle.

But he can't seem to muster up his next line and he's trudging out of the room, knocking his shoulder into yours.

Your face distorts into of pain as your left hand grapples where he'd hit you, the fresh relocation of your shoulder tender and sore.

Ada inhales, looking away for a moment and rubbing her brow again before she follows Leon.

The click of her heels pause when she gets to your side and her hand is resting on top of yours, her painted fingers far gentler than the current hold you have on your shoulder. "It was bad, wasn't it?" She asks and her eyes are fixated on her hand like it knows the answer better than her own mouth.

It was and she can see that without having to question you, but neither one of you press for further elaboration.

"I'll bring your boy back more reasonable, don't worry. " She beckons and her hand flits from you.

Luis is talking out his concern as he follows her, probably to put the door back up, waving his hands over his head, turning around abruptly, saying something in Spanish as he points at you. You can't make out half of it, but you believe it to be more exasperation.

The sound of the door being placed back in its frame is loud and chaotic and under normal circumstances you probably would've laughed at the lanky man. But it all feels like white noise right now. Your feet take you to the bedside and your body feels as heavy as a brick.

You let out a hefty puff, your fingers rubbing against your eyes until Luis' footsteps near closer and he is clasping your chin. You're already turned up to stare at him, eyes trained into his warm gaze.

"Mi amor. I'm sorry. " He states and you shake your head as his hand trails up your bandaged one, his skin touching you. He lays his fingers on the split of your palm.

"No big deal. " You dismiss but your voice doesn't meet your words.

"Lo es. " It's quiet and it's a hiss. He disagrees, even though, at this point, you're not sure if he understands you've brought this upon yourself. He starts to say more and the small laugh that's escaped his lips comes out halfway through. "You two so stupid. "

He's amused now, and you can't really help the small smile that warms your lips. He leans in slightly to place a lingering kiss on your forehead, the feel of his soft, brown strands falling onto you.

The creases of his eyes soften after a moment and he retracts his hands, sitting beside you on the edge.

"I fix some food. " He resumes and his steps are bouncy and upbeat this time, like the problem has already been rectified. "Simple. Because sancho..." He gestures to the fallen food on the floor, his tongue clicking.

He is so unbothered.

You feel like this was his intention the whole time. To get you smiling, which you're sure doesn't happen enough when you're not around him.

You give a half nod in response.

"You eat?" Luis is quick to fill the air.

"Two days. " You reply.

He scoffs slightly, pausing for a moment in the kitchen area.

"Grow your waist line, sweetpea. No time to lose. "

A small, rumbling laugh rolls in your throat. It's soft and nonchalant and your head is hanging, eyes closed for a moment. But you feel a little bit lighter after it.

"Now, you are tired. " Luis says.

"Luis. "

"Shhh. "

Your head rises to look at him and it hurts your neck to keep your gaze elevated but he's so matter of fact about everything it makes you roll your eyes and huff, laying back on his bed. Just for a moment. Just to rest.

"You sleep. Don't let him bother you. "

"Mmm. " You slur.

Luis looks over you when he turns, placing something back in the fridge. You're fighting the weariness, keeping your eyes open, watching his movements. He's humming to himself and re-stacking papers that had fallen when the door had been sent through the air moments before.

You fight it, but the sweet hum of a song you don't know begins to lull you, send you drifting. It was so nice to just stop for a moment. It was so nice to find Luis, a home, even if it was temporary, a place that could feel friendly while the world around you was turning without end, an uncontrollable amount of death and destruction looming.

So you fall, with the final note of his melody in your ears, asleep on the brink of the end of the world.

[icallhimjoey]

Please please please you're the best, I love your writing,could you write a fic in which joseph answers the famous question: would you love me if I was a worm? BECAUSE I NEED IT

yes, perfect request, thanks <3 Wordcount: 1.2K ----

Would you still love me?

Joe was impossibly close to you. If you hadn't been in a cuddly mood, it would've been too close. Spread out on the sofa, you were tucked into the corner, with your boyfriend pulled into your side.

After dinner you'd put on some bad reality TV, and for about 15 minutes, Joe had stood next to the sofa, not watching along with you. You'd told him to come sit with you, but he'd mumbled about something that needed doing, yet he'd only taken two steps and kept his eyes trained on the TV. He lingered around and when he really disagreed with what someone had said, he had looked at you and scoffed. "Is he being serious?"

"Yes, he's awful. Come sit," you'd beckoned him once more, and this time, Joe'd sat down and you'd pulled him into you.

Now with his head on your chest, Joe had an arm across your stomach and had fingers slowly scratching your side - too slow to be ticklish, but you could feel your muscles twitch a little every time his fingers curled inwards. You had one of your hands stuck in his hair, and your fingers mirrored Joe's movements, slowly scratching at his scalp. It felt like pure bliss; warm, cosy and comfortable. You felt Joe snuggle up to you to get even closer, and you giggled.

"What?" Joe asked.

"Trying to crawl under my skin?" you joked.

"You know I would if I could," Joe mumbled softly, nudging at you with his nose before he kissed your collarbone. It was cute and made you blush a little.

The added pressure of him pushed you further into your sofa, and you almost felt like you were getting a deep tissue massage. Like Joe was a weighted blanket that pressed onto you firmly.

"Joey?" you suddenly asked, about to absolutely ruin the moment, you were well aware.

"Mmhm," Joe sounded as if he was just about to drift off. You couldn't blame him. You were a mess of tangled limbs with slow steady breathing, feeding off of each other's body heat.

"Do you think... do you think you'd still love me if I was a worm?" your question came out impossibly sweet and innocent.

Joe stilled his hand, and you swore he didn't breathe for a second.

"This a trick question?"

"No... just answer it. Would you still love me if I was a worm?" you kept raking your fingers through his hair, combing it back, even when he pulled back a little to look at your face. He was gaging how serious this was, and you did your very best to give your most serious of faces.

"A worm?" Joe sounded a lot more alert than seconds earlier.

"Yes."

"Would I... still love you... if you were a worm?" Joe narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion, afraid that it definitely was a trick question and there was a wrong way to answer. So, he thought for a second.

"Am I also a worm?"

"No."

"So, I'm still a person and you're a worm?"

"Yes."

"Have you always been a worm?"

"Joe, just answer the question!" you were growing impatient. Joe just needed to say yes, of course and it'd be cute, and you could keep watching dumb people make bad life decisions on TV.

"No, no, I'm not falling for this," Joe sat up fully now, and your hand fell from his hair into your lap. "So you're a worm, and I'm a person. Have I known you as a person first, or do I just know you to be a worm?"

You thought a second.

"I was a person first, but then I turned into a worm."

"What kind of worm?" Joe grew more playful in his need for more context, you could tell from the twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh my God- any worm! A gross, disgusting, slimey one!" impossibly annoyed with your silly boyfriend, you regretted asking him the question since it all seemed to backfire, the joy of it completely gone for you now.

"Would I still love you...." Joe's eyes peered up at the ceiling in thought, eyebrows high up on his face. You leant in slightly, waiting for him to tell you his answer.

"Why a worm, though?" Joe asked, and you shook your head and flung your arms up slightly as if to say can you fucking believe this guy as you made eye contact with a non-existent third participant in your living room as Joe laughed, head lolling back as he did.

"Never mind, forget it," you said, slumping back against the backrest of the sofa, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as you did. Joe was impossible.

"No but, why not something cool, like a spider? I'd definitely still love you if you magically turned into a spider!" Joe said, his hands prying at your arms to unfold them from your chest so he could resume his position. You overplayed a dramatic sigh and returned your attention to the TV where impossibly pretty couples would no doubt immediately tell each other that yes, absolutely they would still love each other if they were worms.

Joe cuddled back into you, and you could feel his eyes bore into you as he stared at you for a second with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Question is, what would you do if I was a spider?" Joe asked, and you peered down to see two cheeky eyes challenge you.

"Kill you," you were quick to answer with your brow furrowed. Joe's face immediately fell as he lifted it to look at you. "I'd flatten you with my shoe."

"What?"

"A spider, Joe? Absolutely not. I fucking hate spiders, you wouldn't stand a chance," you smiled smugly, and Joe scanned your face for a second before settling back down and tightening his arm around your stomach.

"Well, good luck with that," Joe tested you, sarcasm thick in his voice. You gave him puzzled eyes even though he couldn't see them.

"Joeyyy," Joe said, mocking you in a high pitched voice. "Joey come quick, there's a spider!"

You couldn't help but let the laugh stuck in your throat escape as you shoved him slightly for poking fun at you.

"Be honest, you've not killed a spider yourself in years," Joe laughed with you and used his hand that was already on you to poke and prod, making you yelp with laughter.

"Kill you, she said," Joe shook his head and you both laughed until you went floppy, laughing more at each other's giggles and snorts as it went on. "And here I was, thinking we were definitely smarter than these dickheads on TV," Joe gestured at the screen.

You leant over and pressed a kiss into Joe's hair once your laughter had died out.

"So?" you carefully asked, still waiting for an answer from him.

Joe tutted.

"Of course, I'd still love you if you were a worm, are you joking?" Joe's fingers found your side again, but this time they dug under your top to tickle at your bare skin, making you flinch and smile at his touches. "I would keep you in your own little home, give you a big, indoor sandbox to thrive in, feed you all the things worms eat, keep you happy and safe and warm," Joe pressed small kisses into your neck that made you squirm with giggles.

"Of course, I would. I'd love my slimey, gross worm of a girlfriend."

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[bloodiedrogue]

NOTHING COMPARES TO YOU (4)

SUMMARY: After deciding to follow Peter, you find yourself in the company of another spider.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,507

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a dissociate behaviours, MIGUEL O'FUCKING'HARA (yes he gets his own warning this mother fucker gave me so much grief while writing this!!!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HAVE A GOOD DAY :)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

You’re barely given a chance to blink before you’re thrown to the ground, feeling everything rush around you. As you land, all fours hitting the hard surface below, your gut immediately churns, threatening to spill out onto the pavement as you attempt to steady yourself. Throughout your head all you can feel is movement. Everything whizzes across the expanse of existence, continuously flowing even though your eyes are firmly shut. The twitching of your limbs and fingers makes you grip the rubble as it happens, causing you to let out a sickened groan at the heat that envelopes your skin. 

The air is warmer here. Sticking to your skin in patches that make you squirm with discomfort as you try your best to look around. Opening your eyes, you notice then how blurry your vision is. How throughout the journey it’s become a mess of colours and shapes that slowly reflect against each other. 

Everything’s distorted —lopsided almost— as you begin to notice the vast amount of buildings around and how taller they are than the ones back home. Above you, they curve in ways you didn’t think were possible, their structures curling in angles that have you squinting in confusion; shuffling to stand at the same moment something rips across your skin, pulling you in every direction at once.

Without warning your muscles and bones feel like they’re being detached. Each limb shakes with violent intent as it’s separated, making you cry out as they’re quickly shoved back together. Under your breath you swear as the pain continues to pulsate, taking a moment to let out a winded breath as you brace your knees and fully stand. 

You’ve never felt this kind of pain before. The stretching of your entire body all at once. Simultaneously it feels like the longest and shortest second of your life.

Obviously, it’s a side effect. An unfortunate limitation you’re almost certain you’ll experience again until you get home. It was bound to happen considering all the unknown factors. 

Swallowing hard, you twist your neck around to try and ease the sudden tightness, feeling the kinks slowly fade away as you take a look around. 

Below you, the streets are busier than the ones back home, filled to the brim with bodies and cars that weave around each other endlessly. Focusing further, it’s apparent that there’s not a space unused on the ground below. Everything is where it’s meant to be despite the chaotic appearance and if you’re honest staring at it all for too long makes you dizzy. 

“Of course he’d portal himself onto someone’s fucking roof,” you mumble, taking a step away to rub your eyes in frustration, knowing there’s no way in hell you’re going to get down without arousing suspicion.

You can already imagine the outcome. You’ll walk over to the rooftop entrance and pull open the door and some security guard will be standing on the other side, frowning at you as he pulls the handcuffs out of his back pocket, telling you it’s illegal to trespass. Awkwardly, you’ll smile and try to come up with some dumb excuse, something stupid like oh, my god this is so weird, I actually live here at which point he’ll roll his eyes and cuff you because this probably isn’t even an apartment building in the first place!

You want to scream at yourself for being so stupid. For thinking that jumping through a fucking portal would lead you exactly where you need to go. It’s so obvious that it wouldn’t. Considering the potentials, there’s no way that would’ve happened in a million years. There’s so many variables stacked against you. Too much unforeseen testing and data to make such a dangerous, last-ditch effort worth it. 

If only you’d thought of that as you stood in the comfort of your own house —a house you most likely will never see the light of day again thanks to your endless stupidity. With Peter nowhere to be seen, you’ll most likely be stuck in this universe for the rest of your life. You’ll have to come up with a new plan —a new life. Maybe turn to a life of crime and learn how to pickpocket or something to pay for the bare necessities. 

Yeah, that’ll work! You’ll become a petty thief, stealing watches and wallets and all the usual easy-access things that tourists tend to forget about. At night you’ll wander the streets in search of victims a little too drunk for their own good —play the part of the terrified girl all alone until you’re able to strike and—

“Oi!” 

You scream, loudly, clutching your chest with tight hands as your body separates again. 

“What ya’ doing ‘ere?”

Blinking through the pain, you’re met with a sudden sense of acceptance, knowing that you’re done. That the jig is up and most likely you’re going to be thrown into some high-facility mental institution where people who think they’ve travelled dimensions go.

“Hello? Are you even listening?” 

Nervously, you turn to see another spider person, one who’s tall and lanky and covered in a suit you’ve never seen before. Like Peter’s it’s got the same red and blue elements, but scattered beneath ripped jeans and a leather vest covered in pins and patches.

“Hi, sorry, I um —please don’t kill me.”

Your voice is annoyingly small sounding. Barely above a whisper as you hold out your hands, signalling that you’re safe. That you mean absolutely no harm regardless of what this guy may think. 

“Kill you? You serious? Is that what I look like to you?”

Opening your mouth to respond, you’re quickly interrupted by a scoff.

“I’m not gonna’ kill you, mate. Spider-Men don’t do that.” 

“I know.”

It’s a statement that comes out quicker than anticipated, falling out of your open mouth in a mess of syllables that causes the Spider-Man in front of you to take a step forward and cock his head. 

“You know many spider people?” he asks, a newfound curiosity taking over.

Slowly, you nod, trying to make out how things are going to go based on his reaction. Unfortunately though, thanks to the mask you can’t see his face so it makes the effort difficult, leaving you to debate whether or not to go further into detail. 

Because really, this guy could be evil, right? Anyone from any universe could be an anomaly and you wouldn’t know because Peter and Miguel refuse to tell you what an anomaly really is. Honestly, it could be anything from a person to a dog and you wouldn’t know the wiser, making this interaction that much harder to gauge. 

“You a friend of one or something?”

Again, you nod but fail to give any details, watching the way he lets out a low sigh and begins to look around. 

He doesn’t look threatening. Despite the spikes riddled throughout his suit he seems almost soft —caring in a way that has you wanting to trust him. He’s a spider person after all which means he has to be good. Or at least, have a little bit of goodness in him, right?

“Who are you?” 

As he turns to face you, you can tell immediately then that he’s harmless. Another Spider-Man just like your brother with a little more rough edges. You can tell because he’s got that familiar feeling of warmth in the way he stares at you through the mask. It’s emotionless given the lack of features but underneath, the way cranes his neck to truly look like he’s listening, tells you all you need to know. 

“Who are you?” he repeats almost jokingly, placing both hands on his hips. 

Forcing back a grin you shake your head. “I asked you first.”

“Yeah, well, I asked second so fess up.” 

Without even thinking you do, telling him all about your brother and your extremely stupid idea to jump in after him. How all you wanted were a couple of answers before your mind decided to stop working entirely, leaving your brainless body to do the rest of the work. Somehow it all just tumbles out of you, the details of your ongoing curiosity falling onto the ground in front of you, causing him to nod his head, waiting for you to finish. 

When you do, there’s a silence that splits you apart. A moment of nothingness before each limb peels away from your torso. As it happens, you watch him reach out, each palm moving to encapsulate your shoulders and steady the symptoms. 

Beneath his mask you can hear him breathing in and out, attempting to get you to match the rhythm as you stand there. Breathing in, you try to follow him, holding each inhale and exhale for a couple of seconds as you settle back into a space of comfort. 

“Shit, we need to get you to HQ.” 

“HQ?”

He nods and steps back, moving his arm to reveal the same watch Peter has. 

You want the cry the second you see it, realizing that you’ve officially been saved. That no longer will you have to rot in this hellhole of a dimension filled with endless traffic and weird curving buildings that somehow seem to defy the laws of physics. Instead, you’ll have an actual guide to help. A saving grace in the form of this weirdly, punky spider.

“Hey, uh… will Miguel be there?”

He’s fiddling with the watch when you ask, pressing buttons and turning dials until he isn’t. When he stops it’s like the world has done so as well, making you swallow hard and look away, realizing it was most definitely a mistake to bring him up.

“How d’you know Miguel?”

“He, uh, saved my brother once,” you tell him, knowing that the more honesty you offer the more likely you’ll get what you want. “Dropped him off at my apartment in the middle of the night with some others.” 

“Who?”

“Gwen and Peter —old Peter.” 

“Peter B?”

You shrug, unsure. You only talked to him for a couple of seconds, enough to hear his voice and to see his face. You didn’t find out any other details. 

“I don’t know if he’ll be there. He got called out —he’s ‘ere somewhere dealing with something.”

“He’ll be back later though?”

“Probably.” 

There’s a suspicion in his voice that wasn’t there before. A building interest that has you mentally cursing because you shouldn’t be doing this. Meddling was what got you here in the first place. Thinking that you were invincible to a world that isn’t yours is how you ended up on the roof. 

You shouldn’t press further than necessary. You should just drop whatever this desire is and go home. Maybe if you do this Spider-Man will be kind enough to keep this whole debacle a secret. 

Except, you’ve come so far. The answers are close —locked away in the confines of a body that will most likely never crack, but they’re there. On the other side of another portal. One way or another, Miguel will be there. Standing in front of you with daggers for eyes and forehead lines. His hands will be on his hips and frustration will be pouring out of him but he’ll be there. All flesh and bone and covered in an armour you won’t be able to crack. 

And that’s enough, you tell yourself. Enough to get you to keep going. Enough to set you back on the track of ignorant selfishness because despite how separate you are, just that small possibility is reason enough to get you to follow this new ally through the portal. To ignore the nagging voice inside your head telling you how you should separate yourself from this. 

Because sure, you and Miguel are different. Two people so far apart on the spectrum of understanding that you can barely see each other across the divide, but it doesn’t matter. You have to talk to him. To convince him to see things from your perspective.

-

His name is Hobie Brown and he’s from Camden, London, Earth-138. 

In his world, he’s known as Spider-Punk —an obvious choice considering his appearance. He’s been his universe’s Spider-Man for a couple of years now, fighting the corruption that unfolds while simultaneously playing in a band, and he’s against most, if not all governments. 

As he tells you this, you have to force yourself to pay attention. To stare at his now unmasked face that’s grinning as you try your best not to freak out at everything unfolding around you because, in almost every corner of your sightline, a new spider person takes up space. Suited bodies of all shapes and sizes lining your vision, sending you into a panic as you hold either side of your head in shock. 

“Oh, my god, there’s so many.” 

“Cool, innit? It’s like comic con, ‘cept less capitalist.” 

Your entire body feels like jelly, mostly from the portal ride over. Like the last one, it made you glitch uncontrollably, your frame shifting in and out for a good second before Hobie helped push you back together. Using that same breathing technique, it worked but somehow felt a whole lot worse. The pain becoming so intense you keeled over onto the ground, drawing enough attention to last a lifetime. 

“Is she alright?” 

“She’s glitching quite a bit.”

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?”

Quickly, it became too much. An overwhelming conversation of voices sounding just like Peter’s. You imagined underneath their suits they looked just like him. Doppelgängers who were all well aware of the other but knew nothing of you. It messed with your brain, making your chest swell with discomfort as Hobie took the reins, telling everyone that you were fine —that you just needed a day pass.

Now walking alongside Hobie you can’t stop glancing at it, the bright purple bracelet staring back at you. For something so flimsy it doesn’t make much sense that it’d be able to just stop the cells in your body from jumbling out of place. Touching it gently, it feels more like a festival wristband than anything else, leaving you with more questions you’ll inevitably have to ask Miguel once you find him. 

“You good, mate?”

You have to force yourself to nod as you walk further across the corridor, scanning all the different hallways strewn about the building. Like the previous universe, all the structures seem to defy science. Everyone walks upside down and right side up with such casualty it makes you feel a bit sick, prompting you to look back at Hobie with an uneasy expression.

“This place makes me dizzy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Does every room look like this?”

“Nah. Most rooms are flat, perfect for people like you. I promise.”

He smiles and without much thought you do the same, continuing your journey until you’re pushing through a large set of doors. Behind it, a cafeteria sits, housing the bodies of even more spider people, all of them haphazardly strewn about in their own little groups.

“This place is insane.” 

“It’s ‘ight. Bit much.”

You’re inclined to agree but probably for a different reason. For him, it’s probably a spacial thing. The structure of everything is extremely overwhelming —claustrophobic in the way that everywhere you look there’s something going on.

“How many of you are there?”

He shrugs, continuing through the room until you’re near the edge of the kitchen, causing Hobie to glance around before bringing a finger to his lips and darting through the doors, leaving you alone again, standing on the edge of a space not meant for you. 

Or at least, this version of you. Thinking about it, you’re almost certain there’s one of you that’s wandering the halls going about their day like any other. They’ve probably just come back from some sort of super, important mission. Maybe they’re on their way to some sort of med bay to get cleaned up or an office space to report back their findings. 

Whatever it is, you imagine it’s more important than you standing around, gaping at all the familiar-looking masks, wondering what kind of faces sit underneath. 

“Sorry. Had to just…“

Now at your side again, Hobie produces a small baggie from the pocket of his vest, handing it to you as he starts walking, assuming you’ll follow. When you do, he nods toward the item in your hand, prompting you to look inside. 

“An empanada?” 

You give him a weird look, unsure how to proceed. Are empanadas special here? Are they like this super delicious untold secret? Or is there some sort of cultural significance behind them? Do spider people offer them up to guests or something?

“If you’re gonna even attempt to talk to Miguel you’re gonna need an offering.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Man’s a tosser.” 

Not even you can deny that. Every moment spent with the man felt more like a chore. An endless shift at one of the worst jobs of your life. Just imagining the sound of his low, worn-out voice still sends your mind into a frenzied rage, remembering the only things that came out of his mouth were either unnecessarily rude and sarcastic comments or straight-up growls. 

Even now as you continue to walk, trying your best not to stare at everyone that passes by, you can still hear that tone of his, clear as day. “I know you don’t think I know you, but I do. Trust me.” 

Secretly, you wish he was lying. It’d make the rejection you’ll most likely experience that much easier. If he was lying to you you could probably look past it —pretend like such an intimate conversation never happened and move on. Instead of sticking around you could get Hobie to take you home and go straight to bed without another thought. Attempt to lie to Peter about your interdimensional field trip and never think of him of any of this madness again. 

Unfortunately, though, you know he’s not. He does know you. In ways you’re not sure you’ll ever understand, he knows the private details of your life like the way Ben used to make you bacon breakfast sandwiches out of cheese bagels near the bakery down the street. The way he’d stuff it full of the crispiest bacon and hash brown patties coated in mayo and cheese. 

More than likely he knows about Aunt May’s record collection. All the old 45s stacked in dusty milk crates underneath the china cabinet in the dining room. He probably knows how cherished they are amongst the entire household. How Peter and you constantly fight about who’s going to inherit them when she dies even though you both know you’ll just end up sharing.

The more you think about it the more you realize he probably knows everything about you but refuses to admit it. How you go to work every day wishing that things were different. That despite loving your job, your mind often wanders to other things —projects you’ve always wanted to pursue but never had the time to. 

Still walking and staring at all the doppelgängers, you wonder if any of yours have felt the same way you do. Were they also bored of dealing with Oscorp’s bullshit day in and day out? Did they do anything about it? Quit, maybe? Transfer departments or work towards a promotion? 

If they have, you hope they’re happy. Or at least, happier than you. Not that the bar is all that high. You haven’t been necessarily happy in a while. Which is another thing you’re certain Miguel knows, based on the way he stared right through you before he left, speaking of a rage he claimed to understand. 

As much as you’d like to deny it, you’re almost certain he does. He holds himself with the same irritation that you do. Constantly on edge and ready to pounce. Every word that’s said feels like an attack unless obviously stated and with either of you it’s hard to tell with the constant lines of defence.

“We can wait here for ‘em if you want.” 

You must’ve zoned out on the way here because suddenly you’re standing in what looks like an office. A very futuristic one with wrap-around desks and way too many monitors. Glancing around, it feels simultaneously corporate and homey. The lights are dimmer than your standard workspace, the glow of each computer bouncing off the walls but everything’s sleeker —streamlined, you imagine someone saying. 

“What is this place?” 

“Control room, I think. Honestly couldn’t tell ya’ I don’t come here much.”

“No?”

Both of you gravitate towards a set of chairs near the front, plopping down with a sigh that makes Hobie sort of smile and kick his feet up. “Nah. No time. Got too much shit at home.” 

“Anomalies?”

His smile turns into a smirk. “What you know ‘bout them, eh?”

“Not a lot, honestly. Pete talks about them sometimes. Says they resemble villains he’s fought back home but that’s about it.”

“Hm.”

It’s strange how open he is about all this. How willing he is to ask you questions regardless of whether or not you have the answer. Already it’s a step above everyone else, leaving you a bit confused and somehow wary, watching him from the corner of your eye.

“Are you allowed to be talking to me about this?”

Snorting, he throws his hands behind the back of his office chair and begins tapping on the leather. “Nah, but rules are meant to be broken, right?”

“Right.”

“I hate rules.”

“Makes sense.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You open your mouth to respond —to apologize— but he immediately cuts you off with a laugh. “Kidding.”

“Jerk.” 

“You want my help or not?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, almost too quickly, watching his lips press together, a sense of fondness filling his features. 

The conversation lulls then; another silence fills the room, making you lean back and sigh. It might be hours until Miguel and Peter come back. Days even, depending on how the timing works in different dimensions and already you’re ready to call it, feeling the exhaustion begin to take over. 

“Do you think they’ll be long?”

“Nah.”

“They usually wrap things up pretty quick?”

“If they can.” 

It’s not the exact answer you’re looking for but you accept it anyway, nodding your head with an awkward smile, trying your best to remain cool and calm like Hobie somehow manages despite obviously breaking the rules. 

“You know you can, uh, go if you want. You don’t have to wait with me if it means you’ll get in trouble.” 

His eyebrow pops up almost immediately, the edge of his lip following suit. “You serious?”

You look at him confused. “Yes?"

This time he laughs. “And leave you here with all the fun?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” 

He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, staring at you with mischievous eyes that make you somewhat question whether or not there’s something else beneath the chill exterior. Something familiar you can’t quite place. Sure, he’s no Miguel or Peter —he’s his own kind of Spider-Man— but still, you can’t help but compare them all, studying him underneath what little light reflects throughout the room. 

Without even thinking, you find yourself trying to pick apart the similarities within the vast amount of differences. For example, he’s got the same ability to deflect that Peter has. The way he speaks is so relaxed, but underneath it all, you can tell that he’s hiding something —shielding whatever it is beneath that peaceful demeanour. In the short time you’ve spoken, you can determine he’s smooth-talked his fair share of people. Deterred them from asking the right questions by providing the most perfect response and it throws you. 

The more you learn about other universes the more it bends your perception of everything around you. Back home there are moments you find when everything feels controlled. You’ll be standing on the sidewalk, listening to music waiting to cross and suddenly your mind will tailspin out of order, remembering that you’re just a copy of a thousand different you’s walking down the street listening to the exact same song. As you walk, you become the endless loop of infinite bodies stepping left then right, repeating until you’re across the street and snapping out of it, forcing yourself to breathe and change the song. 

Since discovering the other side of Peter’s existence you’ve found it hard not to compare yourself to these faceless copies. Whenever you’re at work you’re constantly thinking about whether or not other you has managed to finish their projects. Are their successes far greater than yours? Are they less? Specifically, where on the scale do you fall? If it’s high do the people in their universe appreciate them more because of it? 

You wonder if Peter feels this way —same with Hobie now that you’re sitting next to him, watching the way he calmly closes his eyes and drifts into a space of half-consciousness while you continue to have yet another crisis.

“Is it weird having a doppelgänger?”

It feels like an insensitive question to ask but because you’re already an overly wound-up bundle of nerves it just sort of comes out, prompting Hobie to open one eye. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Have you met one of yours?”

Fully engaged, Hobie drops his feet from the desk in front of him and twirls in his chair toward you. “A few, yeah.”

“Was it weird?”

“Meeting ‘em?”

You nod.

“I guess. First few times were a bit off. Felt weird staring back at my own face with no mirror but after a while you sort of get used to it.” 

“I think it’d stress me out too much.”

“How d’ya mean?”

At first, you’re not sure how to explain it. At least, how to without sounding extremely insecure, knowing that it’d be the comparisons that’d make it hard. The never-ending wonder of who’s better than the other would definitely prove to be too much, and everything you did or didn’t at any given moment would be taken in for questioning later. 

“One of me is enough,” you say, forcing out a laugh that has Hobie frowning and you swallowing hard, knowing that you’re being stupid because, at the end of the day, you’re you, right? Sure, the you’s in other universes are also you but there’s a difference. A hidden line of genetic code that disproves any similarity you might have. At any given moment there’s an endless amount of possibilities of what you could be doing. While you’re sleeping one of you could be working or eating or walking —no one’s timeline is exact. If it was there’d be a whole lot more of you sitting around Hobie, watching as he reaches out to tap your arm and nod towards the entrance.

“Hey Lyla, I thought we talked about the whole interrupting my thought process when I’m trying to think thing.” 

His voice is different. More upbeat than when you last heard it just hours ago. Beneath his mask there’s a warmness to it, radiating through the room until it hits your face and somehow provides the opposite effect. 

It causes you to freeze in place, pausing all movement as he blindly continues his conversation with Lyla, both of them arguing back and forth until Hobie lets out a snort and he’s staring at you. 

Oh, my god. 

You’re pretty sure he wants to murder you. Even through the fabric covering his face, you can see his lips curl up as he growls, revealing those pointed canines that suddenly make you want to book it to the nearest exit without so much as a second thought. 

Staring wide-eyed, you can see his brow-line twitch just before his mask disappears, disintegrating into a mere memory you wish would stay because then you wouldn’t have to see the disappointment coating his face. 

“Should I even ask how this happened or should I assume it was you?”

He’s staring at you but definitely talking to Hobie who raises his hands innocently and smiles, slowly moving to stand. “All I did was pick her up in 149, mate.” 

“149? What the hell were you doing in 149?” Miguel’s eyes dart between the two of you, his voice loud and angry and—

“Following you!”

You’re not sure what comes over you. Maybe it’s the stress of the day or the fact that it’s impossible for you to back down when it comes to Miguel, but suddenly you’re standing —moving out from behind the desk to take the space in front of him. 

“I thought I told you to drop it!” 

“Drop what, Miguel?”

“This!” He motions between you, his palm moving back and forth to signify that he means the two of you. That what happened earlier was nothing but a slip of the tongue, meant to be ignored. 

A part of you wishes you could do that. But standing here, you know you couldn’t even if you tried because the dam of ignorance has already been broken beyond repair and the waves are coming in, drowning you as you look him in the eye and see the face of man so desperate to speak. 

“Why do we have to drop it?” 

You may not have the kind of intuition that Peter has —that every spider person most likely possesses— but you can see as clear as day that Miguel’s a liar. That even as he looks at you with such disdainful rage, there’s a longing in there. Tucked behind his harsh and reddened retinas, there’s a sliver of thirst. A craving of something too big for him to hide behind a false anger that has him breathing so heavily you find yourself blinking at the oncoming air. 

“Why can’t you tell me?” 

It’s embarrassing standing there, being met with only silence as Hobie watches from the sidelines. When you hatched this half-ass plan you never expected to end up getting this far, assuming that when you stepped through the portal Peter would’ve apprehended you. If you’re honest, you expected to be put back where you came from, never to see this side again —never to see Miguel again. 

In your mind, it was the most plausible outcome. The end of a chapter you saw coming from a mile away. Miguel wasn’t meant to last forever. Your strange, yet semi-frequent get-togethers were merely a placeholder for something else and you were never meant to know why. 

“I can’t—“

No, you need to know why. Why he decided to show up that first night. Why, instead of coming here, he chose to seek your aid despite there obviously being better options. 

“I didn’t jump through a fucking portal for nothing, Miguel.” 

“She’s right, y’know.” 

Both of you turn to glare at Hobie who just smiles and waves, taking his leave.

You hate to admit it but once he’s gone it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders. As if, now that he’s gone, you can truly be yourself in the way that you are when only Miguel’s around. 

Because you’re different with him, you realize. Better, even. With him, you’re the version of yourself you wish you could show the world. Instead of bitter and jaded you just feel confident —more sure of yourself and the things you want. 

It sounds stupid but when he’s around it’s like you understand yourself a bit better. Even through the constant bickering, there’s a fondness there you’ve never noticed. A likeness even. 

“How do you know all that stuff about me?”

“Niña—“

“Is it cause you know me? In your universe are we friends or something?”

“If you could just—“

“Or did you just read it off some file? Cause if you did I won’t be mad I just want—“

You’re not sure how it happens. One second you’re yelling —begging for whatever answer he refuses to give— and the next you're sharing the same air, feeling his lips suck the breath right out of your lungs. 

At first, they’re rough, tightly pressed against your own and completely still, making you cautious of your movements as you feel a hand move to grip your wrist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re flush against his chest, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. 

Before you can though, his hands slip up to cup your face, pulling you backward in a mess of hot air and short breaths that have you looking at him confused. 

“Can you do something for me?” 

“No.”

Your response is said with pure impulse but quickly ignored in the form of a scoff and an eye roll that suddenly has your heart pounding. 

“When it’s offered, take the Alchemex job.” 

You have no idea what that means or how it applies to this situation you find yourself in. All you know is that it’s the last statement you hear before he presses a kiss to your forehead and pushes you backwards, your body falling into that familiar buzz of warm-toned light.

-

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[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Day 3: Roleplay | Breathe for Me

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 832

Pairing: Taehyung x Fem!Reader

A/N: You become Taehyung's little sex doll, bondage, breathplay, rough bdsm aspects. 🎃 m.list for Kinktober 2023 🎃

⇤ Prev | Next ⇥

______________________

“How’s that? Not too tight I hope.” Taehyung, your attentive boyfriend of a year, tightened the strings on your person as he got up and looked at how it came out. You were dressed in a cute white outfit, which was an expensive lingerie piece from Victoria’s Secret but Taehyung wanted it to be special for you. This was the first time you were using ropes, after all. Your panties matched the garter belt as you could see through everything. Taehyung was already naked, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. His girth was thick and his cock was sizable from base to tip.

“I’m okay. We’ll use my safeword if it gets to be too much, okay?” You reassured him.

“Alright,” He bit his lips before standing up. “From now on, you’re my doll, okay? And I’m your master who can control you because that’s what you are!” He sounded a little shaky at first but you simply smirked and nodded. “For your first instruction I need to see if you’ll listen to your Master. What use is a doll if it disobeys?” He was getting into it a bit more as you sat in place, limp as if you had no soul. “Spread your legs.” 

You were damp. Taehyung noticed, smirking when he saw the wet patch in your panties as you sat up straight against the wall while he walked over to you and slowly groped your thighs.

“You’re this wet already? Damn, I didn’t even know you were into this.” Tae said, slowly pressing a finger into your wet center. You groaned as the ropes dug into your supple skin, pinching them and turning them red from rubbing into it so hard.

“T-Tae!” You whined.

“What? My baby can’t take it anymore? You’re my doll now, you don’t get a say in what you get or don’t get,” Your arousal coated your panties as Taehyung continued his ministrations. “Listen to the sound your pussy makes when I touch it.” You groaned as he pushed your panties aside and started playing with your bud. The slick shlopping noises could be heard through the room as he toyed with you. The scent of how wet you were thanks to him was apparent as you arched your back and fell back, unable to do anything to stop him as he slipped a finger in.

“Tae!” You jerked your hips forward, begging for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for your puppeteer like a good little sex doll,”

At his command, you came. Hard. Your whole body shuddered as your muscles twitched from the initial waves that rippled through your core. “I’m gonna fuck you now.” You let out a moan of pleasure as he replaced his fingers with his cock and started thrusting in and out of you, his face above yours as he kissed you while making his initial movements.

“Fuck!” You moaned.

“Take it…fuck…so loose for me. You’re such a slut, Y/N.” He whispered.

“Tae…Taehyung!” You moaned out as he continued fucking you open with his hot rod. You felt your body burning up as his fingers slid down your sides, to your waist as he kissed you and then pulled away. You looked at him in confusion. “Why’d you—” His eyes were empty behind, you noticed how he looked at you with nothingness. It was as if he truly didnt feel anything for you.

You couldn’t breathe.

“How’s it feel, being used for my pleasure?” 

You held your breath, as he brought his hand up to your mouth and slowly gave you a finger to suck. You tasted yourself on him, but that was the least of your worries. “Breathe.” He gave you the command, which you were more than ready to obey. You took a deep breath, groaning as he continued fucking you.

“God, I’m gonna come again…Tae…” You groaned. He smirked, to your dismay.

“Already? Oh come on baby, hold out just a little longer.” He pulled his fingers away as you groaned out of frustration. What was he doing?! You were unable to move as he pushed you onto your stomach as your ass jutted out. He smacked it. “Ah…that’s better,” He sank into you, and you were unable to watch him, groaning as you were at his mercy. “Take my cum, doll,” He grunted, thrusting at the speed of light (or so it felt like), and deep, moving his hips as if he had no regard for the fact that you were a human being too. “Fuck,” He grunted. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart.” He groaned as he kept moving his hips. His sweat dripped over his honey-glazed abs as you were turned over so he could look into your eyes as he came.

To which you both groaned, just as he pulled out and came over your stomach.

“Tae…” You sighed, the exhaustion hitting you all at once.

“You’re such a good sex doll, babe.” He kissed you softly before untying you.

[heaven2me]

hii, could you please do a marcus rashford smut? it can be ab anything u want, thanku<33

heaven 2 you → marcus rashford

summary: marcus comes home from a tough

loss and you have the perfect thing to make him feel better

pairing: marcus rashford x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected p in v sex,praise, marcus being soft, not edited !!!

"ohhh,” marcus’ sigh was loud, his neck and shoulders relaxing as i massaged the tension out of them.

"that feels so good, fuck." a following moan vibrated through his chest also sending a vibration down my whole body, hands pressing a little harder into his tight muscles. your hands have not been on him for long and he'd already half sunk into the back of the couch, you settle your body in his lap for the best access. his eyes had slowly falling closed, a soft sigh tickling your skin when you leant in to kiss him along his jaw.

“y'need to relax more, marcus, you can tell during the match how tense you are. you still played so well baby." you nipped at his skin, still pressing firmly into his back, "let me take care of you." tone soft, just wanting to give him what he deserves after a long day.

marcus’ hands found your hips, smoothly dipping his fingers beneath the fabric of your skirt. “i wanna get a taste.” he pleads “not yet baby, i told you i wanted to take care of you first.”

"maybe if you weren’t so up tight all the time i wouldn’t have to hold you off." you mumbled, quiet, but loud enough that his heard your subtle remark.

“is there a but?”

"but i don’t mind doing this, touching you.”

“mhm?”

you tugged playfully on his earlobe with your mouth continuing the fore play, as you rigged at his ear lobe he tugged at your hips and slid his body beneath you. even from the staff you guys didn’t have much between you but at this point, there’s hardly anything. marcus has his shirt off but has a pair of shorts sitting low on his waist letting his v-line show, you now, wearing your short little skirt and just your bra. even with the material of your skirt you could still feel the heat of him. you rolled your hips, shifting to get comfortable but marcus moaned achingly as he knew what you were trying to do. his fingers gripped your hips so hard it might leave bruises but it’s ok, you find them hot anyways.

his head had fallen back against the sofa, eyes closed, lips parted on a pleased sigh and it was impossible not to not kiss the lips that were parted right in front of you. easing your tongue into his mouth.

his lashes fluttered open as you rolled roll your hips and he held your gaze, hooded and full of love. it was a battle of who would look away first, as you kept the slow pace of rocking into him. your underwear was soaked, you knew marcus could feel it too as you repeatedly rolled yourself onto him. you wanted to get rid of everything between you, wanted to feel him inside of you but, you couldn’t let him be in control this time. he needs to break under you first.

his grip on your hips had fallen to your ass, his hands kneading and using it to guide how you moved, to press you over him just a little bit harder. you could tell he liked going at that pace you were at and let you move at your own. the muscles in his thighs were flexing with the effort to not push up into you. his dick twitched against your clit when you circled your hips.

"y/n,” he was trying to hide his moan in a laugh as he finally broke eye contact, let his head fall back again. he pulled your hips back, stopped your movements and you couldn't hold back your whine of disappointment, the feeling that was in your stomach now gone, your fingers slid around the back of his neck, as you attempted to wiggle out of his hold. “marcus, are you kidding me,”

you weren’t done. the tips of your fingers leading into his boxers. you were in control tonight. you told him you’d take care of him.

you shifted back on his thighs, slipped your hand into his underwear and wrapped your fingers around his dick. stroking slowly, his breathy sigh and the way his nails dig into your ass, you knew you were starting off great. moving your hand up, the first brush of your fingers over the swollen tip had his jaw wide open and his thighs tensing so hard it gave you a shiver.

marcus moaned into your mouth and his kisses grew a little more desperate, messy and uncoordinated as he groaned into your mouth before he drew back, pulled his thumb down your bottom lip to stop you going in for more. warm breath fanned over your cheek as he blinked slowly you wondered if you looked just as fucked as he did. you didn’t care. the final straw was you getting his boxers fully off.

"take 'em off for me, babe." while you were standing he shuffled his boxers completely down his legs, kicking them across the room. there is no way to look graceful taking underwear off and you snorted looking at him. the laugh died off quickly when you straddled him once again, both of your hands against his shoulders for leverage. "take this off too." he tugged at the ends of your shirt and even tho you didn’t want him to be in control, within seconds you were both completely naked.

his hand clamped your hip and then he was pushing into you slowly. your pussy opening to accommodate his thick length. he helped you settle on him, until he was completely inside you and couldn't go any further. "there you go, fuck, i don't- you're so tight."

with his hands on your ass again you lifted your hips, let his cock slide halfway out before sliding down fast, adopting a slow rhythm, marcus let his head tilt back, let you ride him the way you wanted, you were so warm and wet, swallowing him completely and he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when you dragged your lips over his neck. one hand held your hip, helped you rock against him.

“is this heaven to you?” you laughed

jude kissed your shoulder, slid the palm of his hand up your back and pulled you impossibly closer.

“yes,” he moaned “feels so good, baby. you’re doing so well for me. taking care of me just like you said, yeah?” his words of praise had made you somehow even wetter, the sound of marcus’ cock clapping into you loud in the room. your moans were growing louder too, marcus becoming a lot more whimpery, you both knew it was creeping up on your both, soon.

marcus moved little circles over your clit and your nails deep into the skin on his bicep, your other hand grasped so tight to his shoulder it was like your massage from earlier was still going. with burning thighs you rode him a little faster, his cock pulsing inside of you and you knew he was about to cum, his moans were breathy.

your pussy clamping down so tight around him you were surprised he could still keep going. you hadn’t realised you’d half fell into his chest and he was ready to cum the second he got you there.

“oh, i’m-“ you pressed your mouth to his and he swallowed your whimpery cries against his tongue, pulled at your ass with one hand to keep your rhythm going. the gush of wetness and tightening of your pussy made him groan, cock pulsing as he came. he filled you, both of you shuddering and moaning softly,

“fuck, baby, there it is. yeah, just like that.” marcus laying back against the sofa, his hand leaving your clit to hold both of your hips and slow your rocking. you were still gripping his bicep but your other hand was at the back of his head, nails scratching over him as you both tried to catch you breath. you finally came to a stop, his cum dripping out and making a mess.

he kissed the corner of your mouth and brushed his hand over the side of your face. you were both sweaty, sticking to each other almost uncomfortably but neither had any intentions of moving just yet. your body was still tingling from your orgasm, legs weak marcus asks

“can i get this treatment after every game?”

hope you enjoyed. request more for the future. i’m busy with school atm so pls be patient with me.

[firewoodwander]

Hi, I'm loving your Kiss prompt fics so much :D You're making me FEEL things 🥰. If you're still taking Kiss Prompts, how about: Fives/Tup: 39. Kissing tears from the other’s face. Thank you

Thank you so much for your request & your patience, finally I can write now that I can hear my own thoughts again!

Kiss prompts

Fives feels like he’s been walking around in a daze since it happened. The medstation hallways are empty and echoic—different to Kamino in that the walls and rooms are grey and free from blaster scoring, and sometimes have a brightness that comes from the stars, but similar in enough ways to trigger the familiar feeling of being hunted.

Fives slipped himself into the crew and visiting quarters as soon as the medics signed his discharge. Technically with a clean bill of health he should probably be going back to the 501st, but no one has asked any questions yet and no one has kicked him out. The medics don’t mind him as long as he stays out of the way, and the droids only complain if his visits coincide with their rounds.

The days have been long, monotonous cycles of staring at white sheets and IV tubes and listening to heart monitors. The warfront is a long way from here. At least half of the Jedi Council has come and gone since they arrived. Tup has slept through all of it.

So, reasonably, Fives notices the second Tup so much as breathes differently. His fingers and hands start making flinching little movements almost a two weeks ago, and the muscles in his face began to twitch a day or so after. When he first opened his eyes he can’t have been fully conscious, but he’d smiled when he’d seen Fives, and that had been enough to finally abate the gnawing pit of horror rooted firmly in Fives’ chest.

Today Tup is sitting up and fully cognisant when Fives turns up at his bedside. Fives already commed Rex since the fallout to keep him updated, but he feels the urge to vent all of the pent-up anxieties to him just as keenly now.

“Hey,” Tup greets. His voice is gentle where intermittent screaming and disuse has made it brittle, but he smiles in the way he always has when he felt he needed to comfort a brother. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Fives echoes. “You’re looking bright.”

His body doesn’t feel quite like his own as he moves the three feet across the room to Tup’s bedside. He ignores the chair he’s spent too many nights in and perches himself right on the edge of Tup’s bed.

Tup is tired, visibly unwell and what’s left of his hair left limp, unwashed. But Fives thinks he looks strong, right now, intelligent, and defiant. He picks his words with care and follows the shape of each of them with his lips, slowly, and Fives thinks he’s incredible.

“Healer Falle sends her regards. She says… she is impressed with my responses.”

Fives lets his gaze trail the drip line up to the bag like it’s a compulsion to check it. “I’m glad. They didn’t know if you’d be able to speak at all.”

“I’m lucky,” Tup agrees. And then he frowns at Fives, or something in the middle distance. “You’re too far.”

He turns over his palm in his lap. Fives isn’t going to deny him anything right now, and especially not this; he dutifully shuffles closer and slides his fingers over Tup’s palm, folding away the deep ache in his chest to examine later, smiling even wider when Tup’s hand squeezes his and tugs him even closer.

“Hey,” he chuckles, “any more and I’ll be on top of you.”

Tup smiles, and Fives is desperately hoping the burning sensation behind his eyes isn’t showing on his face. It feels like acid on the back of his throat and nose and his breathing has gone all wonky, the way it never did when their ARC instructors dragged them through frustration and anger until they felt what it was like to crumble.

Tup sits forward, resting weight through their joined hands, and tips his forehead to meet Fives’ brow. If Fives hadn’t been a goner before—the simple pressure and warmth has ruined him, now.

“These are good?”

Fives doesn’t really know his response to that, but Tup doesn’t seem to be waiting. He lifts his free hand and wipes (carefully, for all that’s he’s wobbly he’s so patiently careful) at the tears clinging to the inner corner of Fives’ eye with a thumb. Fives wants to laugh, but all that comes out is a kind of ragged huff, and Tup tilts his face and kisses his other cheek, right over the tacky tear-trail.

“I think we’ve got this backwards,” Fives points out shakily. He clutches at Tup’s hand, though, braces his shoulder to keep him closer.

“It’s okay,” Tup tells him. And it is. Or it will be. It has to be. There’s a spool of iron wire sitting behind Fives’ ribs that’s slowly unwinding itself from its tense, impenetrable tangle with every one of Tup’s breaths across his lips. “We’re okay.”

[gz-missfit]

A little something about what I imagine the aftermath of the prison break to be like, and why those 2 basically vanished for a few days.

Gotta love the platonic do not separate soulmates that can not live without each other no matter what!

20 Hours. Or maybe 10. Or maybe 5. Or maybe 40. If he's being honest Pac lost sense of time a long time ago after they left prison. And he didn't care too much about it either if he was being honest, huddled in a quickly set up safe room below the murder mystery arena with reinforced walls and blankets he collected with a quick run-through of the arena, in front of him curled up his best friend and soulmate. His own breathing was heavy and carried exhaustion with it into the air of the small cramped room, as his eyes carefully analyzed each movement his best friend made in fear of another nightmare ripping the hybrid out of his dream as anger and despair of the failure from the escape left his mouth with curses and yells. He counted 5 times so far, each being as terrifying to watch as they sound and each time he was there. Full focus on the other as he calmed him down, synchronizing their breathing and carefully lulled the other back to sleep. He was waiting for the next one, each twitch of the still slightly blood stained fingers sending a shiver down his spine, each stuttering breath making his own hitch as the anxiety ran through him, each little movement of the others eyelids making Pacs own eyes widen as he scanned his friend for more movement that could indicate waking up.

He was exhausted and saying it like that was an understatement, his whole body burned with the soreness of the treatment the guards gave him as well as his constant muscle tensing through anxiety. His knees protested the cross legged position he had taken on so he could be close enough to quickly help Mike in case he shot up after a nightmare again and his back ached as his body lulled forwards and his head connected with the others shoulder. His body going numb as his mind was drowned with white noise due to his utter refusal to finally sleep.

Forever's voice is what temporarily ripped his mind back to reality, the harsh realization of noise making his eyes sting with tears as a pounding headache carried through his skull. He doesn't bother to raise his head as he hears his close friends footsteps above him, he doesn't bother to move when his ears pick up the sound of his son's lighter footsteps alongside those of the long haired blonde. He didn't want to call out, and if he was being honest it was mainly due to not wanting to fear that he wouldn't be able to in the first place. So he didn't bother trying as he heard the noise of two warp stones followed by the silence that told him the arena was empty once again.

As he buried his head deeper in his friend's shoulder as a feeble attempt to get rid of the headache that had rushed over him he could feel the other stir, his own body tensing as the anxiety made his muscles scream achingly. He was barely able to raise his head as he managed to catch the attention of the green eyes he knew better than anyone else, he stared patiently as he watched wave after wave of emotion carry over the still slightly puffy from crying eyes which had been shut for so long, and once he realized that the glaze of sleep had left Mike's eyes and he was now staring back, Pac gave a weak smile as his own eyes barely managed to stay half lidded.

He felt hands engulf his face as the eyes of his friends were drowned in worry and he got a small scoff of annoyance in response to his delirious giggle.

"You need to sleep Pac" Mike's voice was rough, vocal chords obviously strained from the yelling earlier and the initial outburst that had knocked him out for this long in the first place.

"I know". Pac wanted to say more, explain why he even stayed up. How he heard Forever and Richas earlier. How he watched over Mike cause that's what they've done since they were kids, Orphans who had no one else to fall back onto but each other. How he needed to be there for Mike cause the only consistent thing they've had in their life's has been the other. But his voice was already barely above a whisper, the silent crying that shook his body while his friend was asleep at his side having strained them so far that he could barely use them.

Mike's look softened, he wasn't surprised to see Pac awake. They've always done this for each other, been there to comfort through nightmares and make sure the other could rest well even if it was at their own costs. He sighed as his own face finally relaxed from a worried scowl into a soft smile, he carefully let go of his friends face, hands guiding the other to lay down as Pacs face contorted into pain from his muscles screaming at the movement and his knee giving a loud pop as a response to being moved after God knows how long.

With Pac now settled at Mike's side the latter chuckled "God we're fucking bad at this" his voice was heavy with sorrow and failure as Pac raised an arm to slowly poke his side, his eyes now landing on his friend who was very obviously almost fully ready to fall asleep at any second "yeah. But at least we're bad at it together" Mike could do nothing but chuckle pained at the statement as he watched his other half finally drift off to sleep.

They may have failed, but they still always have each other to fall back onto. And as Mike watched his friend with the same attention and worry that the other had done for him previously he relived their past in his brain. Finding comfort in the way that no matter when or where. They won't leave each other.

They couldn't leave each other.