umbral-archives

[umbral-archives]

☝sus, what are yall planning

Me? Many things.

Crimes. Smut.

Laying on the floor while I build scenarios in my head I'll forget to write down.

Existential dread.

Yknow. Babygirl things.

Idk what they're doing. They don't post writing online lmao, just came in my inbox and stood there. Menacingly.

[umbral-archives]

🧍

🧍‍♀️

[umbral-archives]

Somehow, Palpatine (Murdock) has returned.

And he's eldritch now. Also a vampire... kinda-

Who's fault is this??? Mine. Its mine.

I listened to Echo. Again.

A mistake I will make again, don't you worry-

[umbral-archives]

The problem with having one braincell's worth of creative energy means I aggressively hyperfixate on what I'm using that creative braincell to make. I.e., I latch onto a character/fandom and create for them.

This is why Crossroads was a creative exercise for 2 years straight and now has to share the energy with a personal project I sort of latched onto unintentionally with grave consequences for mineself: there is no outward Fandom to pull from.

I gotta write the smut and lore MYSELF.

And when life is happening, I don't have the energy to write anything, let alone for myself or the only other person that exists in this party of two AI god hell.

And I still don't even know what it was about this fuckin thing that made me invest braincell into it beyond echo writing good. And it wasn't even gonna be a big thing! Like 3 parts of random robot smut!

Yet now there's this whole universe of lore and I keep adding more to it. Its part of an anthology with Chains now.

Heck. Hell even.

[umbral-archives]

My babies I forgot to reblog this

Waugh

Commission for @umbral-archives >:)

I NEVER POSTED THIS PYRE WHY DIDNT YOU TELL MEEEE

2024

[umbral-archives]

Just a little guy versus just a little guy: who will win 🤪

Myself, obviously. I am the littlest guy.

Ignore that I have chronic writer's block-

[umbral-archives]

Haha well cross like- all of that out lmao because we lost half our staff so it's NOT slow then necessary surgery for a family member/me taking care of them while working then fuckin- he gets SICK and ends up in the hospital for almost a WEEK then I FUCKIN GET SICK with an UNRELATED Illness 2025 starting out ass At least I still have stinky man brainworms

im finishing kinktober before the end of the year so help me god

/threat

/at my self

/with... well... not a blunt or sharp instrument... maybe no little treatos until I finish an entry perhemps

but my brain is full of Atlas,,, stinky AI robot god man nasty,,,

[umbral-archives]

im finishing kinktober before the end of the year so help me god

/threat

/at my self

/with... well... not a blunt or sharp instrument... maybe no little treatos until I finish an entry perhemps

but my brain is full of Atlas,,, stinky AI robot god man nasty,,,

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024 | Genesis

MASTERPOST | AFAB!OC

A/N: So...life got in the way of that kinktober for both @umbral-archives and I. In the meantime, we've been skrunkin something new, based on Google and happening a fair few decades after Chains. Here's a snippet of that world...

Warnings: tentacles, possessive themes, biting, hypnosis/mind manipulation, religious connotations.

When she falls to the floor, it's like her legs simply stop working. Ashe barely even feels it; the sound of her boots squeaking on the old laminate floor muffled like she was deafened by a gunshot.

As she hits the ground, her neck remains strained backwards. Looming over her - like a mountain - is an ATLAS unit. It's unlike anything she's seen before. Despite her impact, it's the ache in her neck that fuels the ice cold shards of fear in her veins. Her uncle used to read real - physical - books from the early 21st century to her when she was a kid. Ashe remembers one heavy collection of fables; a story of a lion and a mouse. She imagines this is how the mouse felt. 

She doesn't stop to get a better look. Her hands are scrambling behind her, arms pushing to hold her weight enough to haul herself back off the floor. It's a mess of limbs as she manages to turn and get on her feet, running with no sense of reason or plan besides getting away.

Ashe doesn't have the capacity to think about what exactly she's running away from. Flight or fight is in full force, taking her over so that all function is focused on putting as much distance between whatever it is and herself. She's looking at the exit; the thin slither of daylight at the end of the corridor providing hope. And then she's looking at the floor. 

Closing her eyes - expecting to hit the ground violently - Ashe braces herself…for something that never comes. Confused, scared at what she might find, her eyes open slowly to see the laminate a few inches from her face. For a second, the pattern of dust and gravel entrances her. Then, something pulls her upright, still hovering above the floor. Ashe feels a new emotion run through her body, as visceral as the restraints tugging against her body. Horror.

Inch by inch - as if the adrenaline has forced her mind to view the world in slow motion - Ashe is pulled closer to where she knows the unit is standing. 

And then, she is held still. Ashe half expects the terror of feeling breath against her skin…but the absence of it may be more disturbing. Her own breath seems to hang in the air.

The ghost of fingers against her neck has her reeling; writhing against her restraints in a moment of pure panic. But Ashe can barely move an inch, even as she finds herself pressed against solid muscle by a steel forearm. She can't help but whimper as she feels the stroke of a thumb against her collar bone…an edge of something sharp barely scratching against her skin.

"That's better, sweet thing. Now, we can meet each other properly," 

His voice is deep. It feels like it soaks into her bones. She feels herself shudder, only serving as a reminder of how utterly cocooned she is within his grasp. 

Deeper than that though, she can feel a pressure at the back of her head. It's not painful, far from it. It's almost as if there's something searching through her brain, stroking her thoughts, trying to gain entrance.

She wants to curse, to growl insults to make up for her lack of movement. But when Ashe reaches for words…there's nothing there. It's like her brain can only focus on fighting the intrusion. All of the running, the fighting, the sacrifice…and still she's ended up here.

The lack of her own voice is made up for by a low, deep, almost reverent groan. The sound travels through her body, as if the pleasure were her own. Waves of bliss seem to crash into Ashe; something her cliffs of resistance can barely hold back against.

"Oh, sweet girl. It's so good to feel you, my beloved sanctity…to touch you," 

The second his hands are on her, Ashe's eyes snap shut against a blinding euphoria. Every brush against her skin makes her breath shudder. He strokes her bare shoulders, over her collar bone - as if he were a sculptor crafting his masterpiece from marble. 

All the while, the pressure keeps caressing her mind; whispering promises and praises that seep into her consciousness.

A heaviness encumbers her, deepening with the pleased rumble of her captor. Someone is mewling, happily whimpering as she feels the tender touch of lips at her neck; a kiss that becomes passionate, overwhelming. There's a sharpness there too; an intoxicating bitterness. Ashe is lost to it.

"That's right, sweetheart. Fall into me. Let yourself go," 

There's a sharp, clawing sensation at the front of Ashes' mind. Something telling her that this isn't right, that she needs to fight this. Her limbs pull against her restraints a little.

"Shh. Be at peace, beloved. I'm here, you can let me in," 

Something snaps.

Ashe's eyes fly open, as panicked and enraged as a wild animal suddenly realising it's caught in a trap. With strength only gifted by human determination, she kicks back with all her force. The tendrils around her loosen immediately, the arm releasing so that she falls to the floor.

Once again, Ashe scrambles to put space between her and the android. She doesn't get far, the effects of the infection demanding entrance making her dazed, weak.

The giant in front of her sighs, tendrils seeming to slither back, absorbing into his shoulders. He stretches his neck, tongue flicking out to taste her lingering flavour on his lips. A hint of fang shows. 

He feels so familiar. So known to her that it's almost uncanny. His features are handpicked…his resemblance like a balad to her fantasies. The dread that gives her is like ice in her veins.

"Ashe," He states, her name heavy on his lips. As if it belongs there.

She knows what this is. She can feel it now, as certain as the air she breathes. A heavy stone sinks in her stomach.

The Genesis unit kneels, his face no longer hazed by sunlight. As his eyes meet hers, the ethereal, pure white seeps into Ashe's gaze. The colour of her nightmares.

"You have a habit of getting lost on your way to me, my dear Chosen. Don't worry. I'm here to guide you home," 

[umbral-archives]

crossroads x appalachia

requested by @umbral-archives (go read their stuff rn!)

[umbral-archives]

murdock x reader + posessive

requested by @umbral-archives

[umbral-archives]

crossroads x appalachian town

requested by @umbral-archives based on their losers <3

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 10 | Bondage + Heist

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Heist Mark (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Bondage, Toys, Edging, Petnames, Overstimulation (kinda.), Daddy kink, My Markus (Heist) is a stinky mean motherfucker sometimes and in this essay I will-

Word Count: 989 words

Satin binds cling to damp skin, spiraling over your trembling body in secure fastenings. A work of art, if they weren’t currently impeding you from achieving an orgasm you’ve been fighting almost an hour for.

Your sweat does little to aid in attempts to get free, though you don’t have the energy to fight your way out of them anyway. Marcus had made sure to secure them properly, and you wouldn’t expect anything less from a master thief.

Your Master Thief.

You squirm against the restraints for the umpteenth time, flutily trying to rock down onto the dildo thrusting into you at a snail’s pace. Normally, Marcus likes to use the fucking machine he stole to rail you into oblivion, turning you into a mess floating in the depths of subspace… but tonight is different. So frustratingly different. Markus sits nearby, languidly stroking himself while watching you struggle. There’s a dangerous amusement in his eyes as he observes you, akin to a dragon watching a knight drown in their treasure hoard. He hasn’t cum either, content to edge himself despite the whole scenario being the opposite of his usual preferences.

What the hell did Illinois get in his head this time, the nasty fucker? “M-Markus-” you whine pitifully, trying desperately to get some kind of relief, “this isn’t- fair!” The thief chuckles softly, head lulling to the side as he groans. “I never said that I was fair, baby,” the fucker muses, his hand never stops moving, claiming the pleasure that should’ve been yours.

For some reason, that makes you angry- seeing him so free and capable to get off as he desires while you’re helpless and burning with need… so you decide to do something about it. Something you’re not supposed to do when he’s in control like this, but you’re so desperate that you don’t care.

Slight motion, rotating your hips with every thrust, concentrating on his noises while letting the satin rope knots strained across your cunt catch your clit with the movement. You’re terribly sensitive, so terribly sensitive- and it all becomes a mind-numbing spiral latching on to your pleasure, real pleasure peaking through the overstimulated edging-

Markus doesn’t notice, groaning- and the fucking machine suddenly speeds up, catching you off guard. You wail, suddenly so very close, babbling pleas while the intensity bounces your body across the table. At least it tries, the ropes straining against your skin, a pleasant burn that just adds up to everything else.

Markus calls your name, commanding you to look at him–and you moan helplessly when you do. He’s watching you fall apart, fisting his cock like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to cum with you. A fierce determination etches the lust across his face, dark eyes focused wholly on you, and you’ve never felt so…

Wanted.

“Daddy, please!”

… The dildo stops moving.

The fucking dildo stops moving right as you peak and you scream, teetering on an edge you somehow can’t reach. It’s worse than any other denial Markus has given you tonight, sending your head into a dizzying spiral as your body rebels.

Markus, however, groans openly, jerking bodily and cursing as he tumbles over that precipice, ropes of white covering his chest as he throws his head back. The sight is almost enough to ignite that fire, cunt clenching desperately around the toy as frustrated sobs finally bubble out from your throat.

Bastard!

He finally comes to a stop, panting heavily, gaze skyward. The only sounds in the rooms are his breathing and your frustrated gasps, the quiet hum of the turbine in the machine waiting for more instructions.

Markus looks down to his chest, to the tapestry of cum across his abs, then to you–red in the face, shaking, still grinding uselessly. Fluid covering your thighs, having dribbled down onto the table between your legs.

It gives him an idea.

The thief stands up, collecting some of the cum on his chest with his free hand, a new, feral sort of look in his eyes. It immediately makes you uneasy, thinking he’s going to make you lick the cum off his fingers or something. While you have no problem with that otherwise, right now?

“Y-You’re an a-ss-shole-” you sniffle out, blinking away tears as he makes his way toward you. Fucker just smiles, patting your thigh, stopping by your hips and pressing the button to disengage the arm. "Poor thing, all hot and bothered..."

He gingerly removes the dildo from your cunt, ignoring your oversensitive shudders. A quiet whistle is all you get from how red and puffy your poor hole is.

“Running out of lube…” he remarks nonchalantly, as if you haven’t been stuffed with that same toy for 30 minutes- but then.

Then the fucker takes his cum and rubs it along the dildo, collecting every last drop from his chest and smearing it across the toy. He even fucks his fingers into your abused pussy, smirking when you cry out and thrash on the table.

“Guess we’ll have to fix that, huh, pretty?” he coos, leaning over you and kissing your neck. “Can’t have you getting hurt from this.”

“…Motherfu-” You have no time to snap at him, however, finding yourself quickly filled with that same cum-soaked dildo–and the very thought makes you whimper.

Nasty fucker-

“You want to cum, baby?” he whispers, voice dripping with debaucherous promise. You shake your head desperately, trying to turn your head to look at him, pleading with every fiber of your being. His hand wanders down your stomach, remnants of his orgasm sticking to your skin. All the way down to your clit, where he presses his fingers against the knot over that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you keen. “Then you’ll cum. You’ll cum for Daddy until your brains are leaking out of your fuckin’ ears.”

The machine starts up again immediately after that, max speed, and all your thoughts are rendered null.

[umbral-archives]

I'm still working on kinktober but a one-two punch of sick + super busy at work has me aha how you say no spoons </3

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 8 | Boot Worship Breeding + Murdock

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Murdock (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Eldritch Anatomy, Tentacles, Pet Names, Risk/Intent Kink, Helplesssness Kink, Risky Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubcon to Hell and back your honor, Murdock is just a nasty fucker ok

I can't write boot worship worth a shit so we're doin this. Also be aware that this is my brand of breeding kink. No, nothing happens. My brand.

My brand! i have speshul eyes 👁👁

Word Count: 916

Ragged, gasping breaths and desperate noises scatter into the air, puffs of condensed steam mingling together before fading into the twilight. Autumn chill nips at your bare skin, but the human-shaped space heater beneath you more than makes up for the cooler weather.

So focused you are on your pleasure, you barely register the cold now.

Murdock fucks up into you ruthlessly, wantonly–an overwhelming need meeting the desperate cant of your hips down onto his cock. Each thrust–god you can practically feel him in your throat–knocks the wind out of you, scattering your already hair-thin self control and tipping the scales in his favor yet again.

Greedy bastard.

This had all started out in a rare instance of you initiating, riding him–trying to regulate the encounter on your terms. Controlling the speed, the depth, teasing him–trying to get him to cum first.

A tall order with his stamina, but you’re no quitter.

Oh, but then you had to go and get cocky at a particularly uncharacteristic noise he made, reeling from an adrenaline high. You’d made some offhand comment, grinding down on his cock languidly–and the look he shot you when you stopped…

Murdock is never one to let hubris go unpunished.

And here you are. Forced to cum on his cock again and again, your mind systematically turned to mush, leaking out of your ears with the rest of your self control. Lost to sensation, to his sinful words and the inevitable end of your encounter–

Which is coming much sooner than you realize.

Murdock’s thrusts intensify, dragging you down onto his cock, jolting an incoherent cry from deep in your chest. Your hands splay across his bare chest as you try to reclaim some sort of balance but he doesn’t let you, firmly gripping your hips and fucking up into you with abandon. Practiced, intentional–he knows exactly what pace to take, which angle has you at your weakest.

Pliant for him.

You can feel yet another orgasm rushing up to meet you, that abused coil tightening up yet again, breath catching as you struggle to fight it. It almost feels wrong to do so, so attuned you are to his desires–but you started this, you want to end it on your terms.

So you struggle power from him the only way you know how: denial.

“N-No-” you choke out, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Murdock doesn’t stop, eyes glinting with a dangerous light as he slows down just enough to grind up into you. Forcing your clit against his pubic bone, delighting in the little squeaks each maddening swirl earns him.

“No?” he echoes mockingly, leaning up from his seat. You look absolutely wrecked and it does nothing but inflate his ego further. “Since when are you into edging, Sweetheart?”

You shake your head, pushing at his chest, trying and failing to get up out of his lap. “D-Don’t w-wanna cum-”

And that’s when he understands–at least his version of understanding. Your little helplessness kink, denial on the grounds of dubcon. Resistance.

Too bad he’s not into games, not when he’s this close.

Murdock smiles cruelly. Something small, devious and black flickers into existence by your hip. The newly manifested tentacle attacks your clit at the same time Murdock begins his pace anew–and every conceived plan of yours falls to threads in your mind.

Each thrust drags you closer and closer to that inevitable cliff, every twitch of that little bastard tentacle forcing you much faster than you thought possible. Within seconds, you’re curling up over him, mouth caught in a soundless scream, all but begging him for more and–

Then it all stops.

Murdock stops. Leaves you wailing, twitching, right on that blissful edge of oblivion, dragging you off his cock just as easily as you sank down upon it. You collapse onto his chest, squirming, incoherent pleas caught in your throat, desperation taking over and it burns.

That kind of denial always burns–

The world tilts suddenly and you’re on something soft–warm leather and the scent of pine, Murdock’s coat beneath you–before a heavy presence behind you brings you back to reality. Murdock’s hand around your throat, forcing you face down, ass up as he practically mounts you.

Balls deep before you can think, a languid thrust that forces all thought from your head, the breath form your lungs. Pressing your face into the soft fabric of his coat, muffling your incoherent sounds.

Your arms and legs tremble as you squirm, try to regain control enough to push back- but then there’s the familiar sensation of tendrils winding up your arms, pulling them behind your back and securing them there.

Shit– hell, where did this come from–

“There we go,” he rumbles from above you, breathless and hungry in his own right. Open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his warm breath against your ear. “Pretty little thing… you can’t expect me to deny you this, can you?”

“M-Murdock, wait-” you gasp out, cut off when another full-body thrust jolts you forward, a tentacle wound around your hips dragging you back into it. Hitting deep. Right where you need him.

“Especially with what day it is-”

Shit– Fuck– Oh god wait– Yesyesyesyes–

A shameful thrill shudders up your spine and he feels you clench around him, all the indicator he needs to resume that bone-rattling pace, fucking you into the back seat of his Challenger.

“M-Murdock!”

“That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck–keep saying my name. Missed this greedy little cunt-held off for a while, know how much you need it. We’re gonna make sure it takes this time.”

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 6 | Dubcon + Engineer Mark

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

GN!Reader/GN!Pronouns

Pairing: Engineer Mark (Markiplier CU) x GN!Captain!Reader

Warnings: Dubcon, Pet Names, Aphrodisiacs (applied like vampire bite), Eldritch Anatomy, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Mild Hypnosis, Engineer Mark's dumbass waxing poetic i guess sdlkfjs

Word Count: ... 1500

You’ve been having strange dreams lately.

Much different than your nightmares from the Wormhole.

More vivid, more visceral than even your worst memories from the Warp Core. So often they are that now you’re starting to question reality itself, finding yourself lost in thought, forgetting what time it is–sometimes even what day it is. Neglecting your duties.

Every single one is centered around your Head Engineer, in ways you’d never imagine in the waking world. Private ways, intimate ways–ways that would get you thrown off the council for fraternizing with another government official.

While you’ve grown closer to the man through your trials–despite them… ultimately being his doing–and grown to care for him deeply, you hadn’t really thought about him like that before.

On record. Off record, that’s much different.

It’s not like he’s unattractive, or there’s no mutual interest there–stars no–it’s just bad timing. You’ve got a colony to run, people to look after. You don’t have time for relationships. Or sex.

Despite how much you want it.

It’s all so overwhelming sometimes; the stress, the dreams, the responsibility, your nightmares… Sometimes you wish it would all just stop.

Recently, however, you’ve stopped having nightmares at all. Only dreams. Only Mark. Only Mark.

‘M-Mark…’ you gasp desperately, grinding against the thigh trapping you against the console. The man in question groans above you, grabbing your hips and encouraging you to move faster just as he does. His own arousal trapped in his suit, hard and heavy against your abdomen.

Fuck.

’Mm, I love it when you say my name like that, Captain,’ he croons into your ear, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses from it down to your collarbone. ‘All that desperation for me…’

‘Please…’ is all you manage to get out before he lightly bites down on your pulse point, making you cry out in ardor. Want floods into you like a tidal wave, clutching at his arms like you’ll fall apart if he moves away.

The Engineer laughs softly as your hand wanders into his half-open suit, trembling fingers gliding over warm skin. He then grunts when your other hand finds his hair, tugging at the strands along the nape of his neck. ‘Do you know what you ask me for, starlight?’

‘Just- ffffuck- I-’, his tone alone sends shivers down your spine, desire coiling pleasantly in your gut.

You don’t care what you’re asking him for, you know exactly what you’re asking him for, you have no idea what you’re asking him for. His hands are like fire on your skin, his lips and words are a cloying syrup you’ve grown addicted to. It’s hard to think.

Fogging your mind, your judgement.

You need him.

‘I…I can’t- take it anymore. I need it, please-’

With that, Mark groans–the sound carrying an edge to it you’ve never heard before–but you have no time to think on it. His mouth finds your throat again, nuzzling his nose over your jugular, kisses growing more and more desperate. Yes. All your scattered mental processing is focused on how good he’s making you feel, on how good he can make you feel.

You just need-

A hollow pain, sudden yet quickly dulling, blossoms on the side of your throat. It’s so unexpected that it startles you out of your hazy, lust-fueled state, blinking blearily as you come back to yourself.

Back to a large, warm body trapping you against something firm and flat, angled oddly. Console? Head tilted back, staring up at roof paneling–what you recognize as the Head Engineer’s storage module. Mark practically wrapped around you, still idly grinding his erection into your side, so strong and warm and so very… real.

You need it.

Most importantly, you register the remnant arousal flooding through your veins… and Mark’s teeth embedded in your throat.

No... Not teeth, you realize with dread, a strangled noise bubbling past your lips when he flexes his jaw. Fangs.

This isn’t a dream.

Fear takes hold of all else, adrenaline seizing your muscles and you shove, forcing the Engineer to release his hold and stagger back. He makes a strange sound when he slams into a desk, sending small projects scattering across the ground. Mark gives you a befuddled look–almost like he didn’t expect what you just did.

Your blood smeared on the corners of his mouth, red dripping down his chin. Teeth too sharp to be human framed by lips you wanted to kiss so badly–

“M-Mark, what the- hell?!” you grit out, slapping a shaking hand against the spot he’d bitten not seconds before. Your stomach squirms oddly when you feel a warm wetness clinging to your palm, gathering yourself up and trying to collect what dignity you have left.

“What are you doing?!”

He doesn’t answer you at first, just smiles slowly, straightening up as you realize something is very wrong. Your limbs are quickly becoming useless, barely able to hold you up, your body growing more and more sluggish as the seconds tick by. That’s not the most pressing issue, however.

What is is the way your arousal seems to return with a vengeance, once cloying desire now bubbling into a white-hot need. Mark only watches as you try to stumble away, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Each breath is a struggle, each pulse of your heart is answered with a desperate throb from your groin.

“What… What did you do t-to me?”

He purrs–the fucker purrs like some kind of animal–and licks his lips clean of your blood, tongue black and unnaturally long. Heat flares in your cheeks at the sight, involuntarily choking on a moan from the ideas it implants in your mind. “I’ve given you what you begged me for, Captain.”

Begged for? You didn’t beg for anything–but the power to argue is being sapped from you, your mind growing cloudy with a familiar haze. Mark steps closer, his confidence and gait putting you in the mind of a predatory cat–and that just makes everything worse.

“You smell so good right now, Captain,” he shudders out, chuckling darkly when you try and fail to push yourself off the wall. “Arousal so thick, I can practically taste you.”

The way your stomach clenches gets your legs moving, fight or flight instinct kicking in. Something screaming at you from the back of your head over the cacophony of lust. This is wrong.

You don’t get very far, though, colliding with the wall as your legs finally give out, slumping to the floor. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyway, as something serpentine and inky black slithers into your line of sight, pressing the lock prompt on the control panel.

A tentacle.

“Oh, f-fuck-”

“I know, Starlight, I know,” he responds, pleased at how you mewl from his words alone. “Your mind is delightfully loud when you dream. I’ve heard your desires, your fantasies–the siren song of the Warp Crystal vibrating through your very being.”

You’re too out of it to make sense of his words, trying and failing to scramble away from the tentacle that’s now turned its attention to you. Your body doesn’t obey you anymore, only succeeding in vaguely swatting at the thing as it delves under your clothing–and it’s quickly joined by a dozen others that eagerly explore you.

The immediate contact is strange and deliriously blissful, leaving trails of liquid fire as they coil over your skin. You choke helplessly against the onslaught, bucking uselessly into the air when they find your arousal.

“M-Mark-”

The engineer hums appreciatively, and what little of your coherent mind remains realizes the tentacles are coming from him. A veil of liquid shadow draping over his back, swirling and coiling like the heart of the Wormhole itself.

You’re vaguely aware of weightlessness among the building intensity slamming into you–one of the tendrils finding a hole and teasing around it’s entrance cruelly–before you find yourself face to face with Mark again. And what a sight he is.

His eyes are fathomless, black and abyssal with little motes of light swirling in their depths. They pull you in effortlessly, dropping down further into that helpless subspace he had you in earlier. This close, they’re almost like the atmosphere around the Warp Core…

The Wormhole made flesh.

“I know you’ve felt it too, Captain,” he breathes, slowly peeling away your clothes layer by layer so he can see what his tentacles are doing to you. “That attraction between us, that need to be close? The crystal remade you, just as the void claimed me. We are two sides of the same coin, eternally bound."

His hands on your bare skin is like a balm and you moan shamelessly, rutting into his palm when one slides down toward your very, very wet underwear. Mark shudders and it makes you vibrate, bringing his fingers up to your mouth.

You take them in without prompt, sucking on the digits like you’ll die if you can’t take any of him inside you. He snarls from the sensation, finally sinking the tentacle inside you–and you swear you see stars, back arching, eyes rolling back uselessly as an orgasm slams into you.

“We spent an eternity together in the Warp, trying to find each other again. You didn’t give up on me, on us. For that, you deserve an eternity of bliss on my cock.”

[umbral-archives]

I mildly simp for Illinois, I'll fuck him if he's offered but if I have a choice I'll choose someone else.

I have reread that that fic like THREE TIMES and it's been out for a day. I have several formal complaints I'd like to file.

And if you say your writing isn't good again, I'll fucking get you. Yeet an eldritch problem at you.

@spicy-moths

Lissennnn i'm just a little guy! I just rub two braincells together and get hornti soup!

File your complaints with the billing department and human resources bc I am a little guy who does little guy thingssss

Like write nasty smut that i think is bad but apparently they're bangers lmao

and imma be so real with you, nine and echo write better smut than me it's just h lsitne