#i'm also just. bad at self-restraint

[queenerdloser]

me, once every three months: wow considering how much garbage i shovel into my body, i should probably try to eat healthier. add some veggies. mayhaps a fruit.

me, the next day: my craving for carbs and protein CANNOT be overstated. i must have bread or i will die.

[persefoneshalott]

One of Dean's most frustrating trait for me is that he's against immortality and has these idea of what's 'natural' 'what's dead should be dead' etc (sam excluded ofc) This is why while he'll go and sacrifice himself to save Sam he'd never be like 'oh hey if we do this spell, dead Sam can come back and live in my brain and both our spirits can live in the same body' or some freaky shit like that, if he ever ran into something like that and thought it was the only option to save Sam he'd just book it out of his own body so that Sam can have it. whereas Sam would be like fuck yeah this is a great first step before I find a better way to get him back and as we know from canon would be willing to have innocent people die so Dean can stay alive

[allertonhoe]

duking it out - rafe cameron (18+)

summary: when you almost get robbed after a night out, your best friend insists you learn some self-defence from her older brother, who happens to own a gym. you also can't stand each other, but what happens when the two of you are left to your own devices.

content warnings: original afab!reader, obx!universe, enemies to lovers, best friends brother, boxer!rafe, use of petnames (princess, baby), 18+ MDNI - smut, dom!rafe, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, unprotected p in v, minor use of restraint, mirror sex, reader hurts herself/blood tw, mentions of getting robbed/jumped (not by rafe lol), mentions of guns/pepper spray, angsty af

length: 4.2k words

"Will you at least promise me you'll consider it?"

"Sarah, no. I'm not-"

"You almost got mugged. It would give me some peace of mind." she disputes once again, looking at you wearily.

She wasn't exactly wrong. It was a few weeks back while you were walking through Figure 8 on your way home from another wild kegger on the beach. And in the early hours of the morning, the sun having barely risen, some masked Pogue took the opportunity to ambush you.

Luckily, you carried pepper spray on you for this specific reason, blasting it in the culprit's face and sprinting back to your place as fast as you could. But according to your best friend, you should be a bit more prepared if you ever ended up in worse circumstances, god forbid.

"Rafe!" she calls through the house, marching towards the kitchen without even checking to see if you were following. "Can you help me out with this?"

"What are you talking about?" he quizzes, scrunching his face in confusion.

"She doesn't think she needs to learn any self-defense." Sarah clarifies, earning a judgmental scoff from the older boy.

"That's fucking stupid." he corroborates, causing you to glare at him.

"Don't call me stupid." you pout, wishing your well-meaning best friend hadn't dragged her overbearing brother into another one of your predicaments.

Saying you and Rafe didn't get along was an understatement. You couldn't stand him. He was arrogant, and rude, and just completely unbearable. You didn't know how someone as kind and bubbly as Sarah was related to such a nightmare. And along with his dreadful personality, he had a bit of a bad reputation around the island.

Rumours swirled about how he'd been involved in shady business deals or that he was entangled with one of the island's most infamous and menacing gangs. Having gotten into his fair share of fights in high school, which led you back to why you were having this conversation in the first place.

"What? Would you rather I lied?" he taunts, unscrewing the cap of whatever sports drink he was holding and taking a sip.

"Enough." Sarah referees. "Besides, you told me you'd help."

"That was before I knew who it was." he antagonizes, not even sparing you a glance.

"Yeah. As much as I'd love an excuse to punch Rafe, I'll have to pass." you acknowledge in a rare moment of compromise.

"Didn't know you liked it rough," he insinuates, rolling your eyes at the innuendo.

"Please." Sarah turns back to you in a pleading manner. "Just some basic stuff. I just want to make sure you don't find yourself in a vulnerable situation again. I hate to agree with him, but it is stupid to turn down learning from, like, one of the best trainers on the island."

Rafe decided after high school that he'd channel his fury and aggressive energy into something more productive, opening his gym up a few years back. And unfortunately, you knew she was probably right. The boxing studio having become one of the hottest spots to work out in Figure 8.

"Don't look so excited, princess. A lot of girls would be jumping at the chance to get free coaching from me." he quips.

"You're not gonna drop this?" you purse your lips at Sarah, her agitation not easing at all. "Fine. Whatever."

"No, if we're doing this, we're doing it my way. My gym." Rafe interjects. "You're gonna be there tomorrow morning at 8. You're gonna come, you're gonna listen to what I tell you, and you're not gonna act like a brat because I'm doing this as a favor for Sarah. Got it?"

With a hesitant nod, the session was set for the next day to your contempt. You were met by the sound of grunts and rustling chains when you entered the facility, finding Rafe at the far side of the room battering a punching bag. Too focused to realize you'd walked in, giving you the opportunity to get a proper look at him.

He wore a fitted white tank and basketball shorts, his sun-kissed skin coated in a thin layer of sweat. His toned arms on full display for you to admire as they tensed every time he hit the cushioned equipment. His signature grimace settled on his features as he beat the hung-up gear like it was personal.

"Fuck," he curses, alarmed once he detected your presence. "Sorry. Have you been here long?" He shrugs off, going for a swig of water.

"Just a minute," you reveal, stepping further into the building, almost feeling as though you weren't supposed to be there.

"Is, uh, that what you're wearing, or were you gonna change?" he surveys, taking in the tight leggings and crop top that clung to you. You shook your head at his question, neither of you knowing how to proceed cordially.

"You don't have to do this, by the way," you mention, giving him one last out.

"Huh?"

"I get you're doing this for Sarah. I can tell her you did if you'd just rather I go..." you offer.

"What? Already trying to run?" he solicits, the typical friction between you arising once again. "I don't mind," he reinforces, relieving some of your apprehension. 

He advised that you stretch a bit first, reluctantly following his lead as he got into what you were sure was his standard routine, somewhat hopeless yourself when it came to working out. An R&B track playing lightly over the speakers, filling the uncomfortable quiet that hung between you two.

You found yourself fixed on Rafe longer than usual, blaming it on the fact that you were trying to mimic his agile movements. There was no denying he was attractive, another trait you found particularly irritating, but seeing him in his element gave you a whole new perspective. He looked incredibly chiseled, a stark contrast to the usual sight of him in shirts that hid his arms, noticing how swole his biceps were with every flex of his.

Once you were finished warming up, he led you towards the practice ring that sat at the back of the gym. Tossing you a pair of boxing gloves and discarding his tank to the side prior to ushering you onto the canvas. Circling the perimeter like he was a shark targeting his prey.

"Are you gonna walk around and stare at me all day, or actually teach me something useful?" you sassed, making him to stop in his tracks with a hardened expression. "I don't have all day, Rafe."

"What happened again?"

"I was, uh, walking home from that party on the beach a few weeks back, and some kid jumped out at me on my way home and tried taking my shit." you recount, Rafe frowning at the story.

"Have you ever learned any self-defense?" he inquires.

"Yeah, I pepper sprayed him and ran the fuck home." you explain, making him snicker.

"And when you don't have that on you?"

"I don't know. My keys? A gun?"

"A gun?" he remarks, amused by your answer.

"Yeah. I could get one of those small ones."

"Sounds like a solid plan, princess."

"I swear, if you're just gonna piss me off-"

"I told you when we agreed to this you can't stand around and bitch at me the entire time." he recalls, not appearing too impressed.

"Then teach me something."

"Fine, let's work on your reaction time."

"My reaction time is fine. I did fight him off." you refute, tired of the constant belittling.

"And how big was this guy? Was he 6'5 and huge, or some shrimpy Pogue that wasn't much taller than you?" he challenges, startled at how accurate the latter description was of your attacker. "You might not get that lucky next time around."

You let him take over from there, watching as he continued walking around the platform menacingly, almost sizing you up in a way. Like you were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Like there was a hint of something almost suggestive hanging in the air between you.

In any other scenario, you probably would've laughed at how he was stalking towards you. Abruptly diving out to snatch you from the side, making you whip around and instinctively throwing your hands in front of you. Not giving him a chance to grab you properly. Seeming satisfied with your efforts, he stepped back to the edge of the ring to launch into the  next drill.

It all happened so fast. He rushed towards you from behind, your initial impulse being to turn and lunge the other way, not realizing your shoelace had untied. You were in the air for a few seconds, tripping face-first into the mats. An ache immediately rising as you peeled yourself off the floor, almost missing how Rafe was at your side without delay, concern etched on his features.

"Shit."

He scanned you for injuries, quick to fuss over your condition while you were just trying to adjust to his sudden worry towards you. As you caught your breath, it hitched again when he reached out and held your cheek. Growing nervous when you saw his focus drift to your mouth.

"You're bleeding..." he notes, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. "Don't move."

He dashed over to snag the first-aid kit and hurried back over, chucking it on the ground beside you. Taking your wrists and unfastening the padded protection covering your fists, doing the same with the other. He searched through the small bag, ripping open an antiseptic wipe as he assessed the wound.

"Sit down." he requested, complying to his instruction since you didn't want to cause any more unnecessary chaos. "Does it hurt?"

"Uh, no..." you trail off.

"This might sting..." he tells you as he brought the damp cloth to the cut, instantly hissing at the tender sensation despite his warning. "Sorry," he murmurs remorsefully.

"Don't apologize. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't. You tripped." he reassures dismissively, letting the conversation die rather than feud over it.

The dynamic between you and Rafe was contentious, the two of you always bickering and getting under each other's skin. However, that wasn't the energy you were feeling right now. If anything, it felt a bit charged. Not missing the way his devious smirk reemerged on his lips as he cleaned the gash, the prolonged silence only making you more uneasy.

"What?"

"Only you would manage to get hurt when I'm trying to teach you how to protect yourself." he patronizes, snickering to himself.

You tore yourself out of his grasp, touching the bloody spot and deciding you'd just handle it yourself in the bathroom. Not in the mood to deal with whatever mind games he was playing at. His reflexes were still quicker than yours as he blocked you from getting up.

"Stop being difficult and just let me," he asserts. Not anticipating for him to take your chin to halt your tantrum, his face just a few inches from yours. "Please."

His glance flickered between your eyes and mouth, noting a shift in his expression—one you'd never seen before. Keeping your own on anything but him, no longer able to trust yourself to not do something you know you'll regret. Finding yourself softening under his wary gaze, against your better judgment.

"Why are you helping me?" you finally decide to ask him, the question coming out almost sheepishly.

"Seriously?" he replies, almost seeming offended. "Other than the fact that I was genuinely trying to do you a favour and show you how to defend yourself, and you ended up with a busted lip instead? Maybe I'm just not as much of an asshole as you'd like to believe."

"Wow, and they say chivalry is dead." you feign, falling back into your usual banter.

"Would it really kill you to just be nice to me for a few minutes?" he comments sarcastically, not giving you much room to argue.

"Thanks, I guess." you concede, his signature grin reappearing.

"Sorry, I missed that." he exaggerates, turning his ear towards you to repeat yourself.

"You're such a pain in the ass." you grumble, crossing your arms. "Thank you."

He finished treating the wound, squeezing out some healing cream onto his finger and brushing it across the sensitive area. Your lips parting at the intimate gesture, your eyelids fluttering shut. Keeping them closed to avoid facing the bitter truth that you didn't totally hate being in this compromising position with Rafe.

"At least now you got some battle scars, so no more thugs will mess with you." he declares.

"You can't help yourself." you scold.

"What? I'm just fucking around." he averts, thrown off by your change in demeanor.

"That's the thing with you, Rafe. Do you take anything seriously?" you proclaim, jumping back to your feet and fiddling to shove the gloves back on.

"Yes?"

"You're stubborn and aggravating, and always fuckingaround. You definitely don't take me seriously-"

"What are you even talking about?"

"That's the whole reason I'm here, right? Another free pass so you can give me shit?" you blindly accuse, temper flaring.

"Fuck, do you ever shut up?" he seethes in frustration, caging you in against the ropes as he towered over your figure.

"Move," you demand, nudging the barrier he'd created around you.

"Calm down," he urges you, as if his domineering stance wasn't partially to blame for your distress.

"Rafe," you huff, trying to escape his scrutiny when he suddenly placed his hands on your shoulders and pinned you back.

"I said calm down." he reiterates.

His piercing glare acted like another physical restraint, simultaneously making you confront the conflicting desires you'd suppressed towards him for years. It was just the easier choice—not wanting to involve yourself with someone so unpredictable or cross the boundary that was your best friend's older brother.

"Why don't you think I take you seriously?" he investigates, surprised that was what he'd hung onto from your rant.

"Are you kidding me right now?" you counter. "You've never been nice to me since I became friends with Sarah."

"Only because you're a fucking know-it-all," he contends, recognizing the teasing in his voice. "Do you think I'd do this for any of the other clowns Sarah hangs around?"

You didn't know what to say to that, trying not to focus on certain details throughout the years. How he'd always been more impartial to you compared to the rest of the group you were usually with. Assuming the pleasantries he'd occasionally throw your way were just another attempt to get on your nerves.

"You make it so easy to rile you up, princess." he remarks, taking the large gloves that were acting like a barrier between you and slipping them off your hands. "And don't try to tell me you don't like it either."

"I... I don't." you falter.

He took your chin and turned you back towards him, but this time there was no reason for it—caressing your jaw and studying you like some priceless piece of art. It was unsettling, the speed at which he was able to switch from tough and threatening to gentle and vigilant. Knowing you'd never seen this side of him in all the years you'd known his sister.

"Try again." he mutters, not letting you get away so fast.

"I don't, Rafe." you insist, trying to keep your tone steady but still lacking conviction—just enough to give you away.

"Then why haven't you pushed me off yet?" he boasts.

"I-" you stutter, considering your next words carefully. "You still haven't taught me shit." you maintain, knowing your response was weak as it came out.

"What's got you so quiet, hm?" he interrogates, basking in your discomfort.

"You're insufferable, do you know that?"

"Maybe. But you still haven't moved."

That's when his lips grazed yours delicately, almost questioning if it was a hallucination. Only knowing it wasn't because of the dull ache from his direct contact on your fresh injury. His icy blue eyes meeting yours in challenge, as if he was daring you to take the inevitable next step. As if he was waiting for your permission.

It felt like you were hit by a tidal wave when you finally kissed him, the faint taste of blood reaching your senses but you were so absorbed by him to even care. Rafe using his tongue to soothe the ripped flesh as he slipped it into your mouth. All of your resistance towards him being disarmed as he kissed you like he'd been wanting to forever.

One of his hands snaked to the bottom of your scalp, threading through your hair; the other sliding to your lower back and pulling you against him. Cradling you to his large physique like he didn't want to let you stray too far, not that you wanted to. While his actions were just as meticulous as his teaching style had been earlier, his execution was still raw and impassioned.

"Are you gonna keep being difficult? Or are you gonna listen to me like a good girl?" he grills hoarsely.

"Are you gonna make it worth my while?" you retort smartly, not wanting to fully surrender control.

He just chuckled as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, the sound making your stomach twist, something you weren't used to feeling in his presence. Extending your nape as he placed a sloppy peck on your skin, lingering to make sure he'd left a mark. The disdain you'd always held towards him now somehow coming off as charming.

"Relax," he cooed, squeezing your waist before yanking your top off.

He discarded the shirt elsewhere, kissing down your torso and along the waistband of your spandex. Hooking his thumbs into the stretchy fabric, peering up at you as he licked his lips, your heart racing in anticipation. Leaving you exposed and disheveled in the middle of the gym, resting on the ropes to find some sort of stability.

"Shit... Can't believe I've kept my hands to myself this long around you," he mused, skimming through your wetness.

"Please Rafe." you whisper, as if the hushed volume of your voice somehow made it all seem less legitimate.

"Can't hear you, princess." he goads, not tearing his gaze from you. You didn't want to give in to his endless provoking, but it was as if he was coaxing it right out of you.

"Rafe, please." you echo, anguish evident from your tone.

"That's it, baby..." he praises, letting two of his digits slip inside you without any warning. "You always this wet around me?"

You instantly melted into his touch, like you were a puppet and he knew the exact strings he needed to pull. Rafe taking advantage of your disoriented state and kissing you again fiercely, the hostility that had built over the years boiling over and getting channeled into your embrace. Grabbing your thigh and hooking it around his waist to give himself better access to you, bringing you into a deeper lust.

He added another finger, immediately giving away that your climax was close as you clenched around him. And then right when your pleasure was about to hit, he withdrew them. A choked whine leaving your throat as he brought them up to his mouth, not daring to tear his attention from you.

"What the fuck?" you protest breathlessly.

Without a word, he took your extended leg, scooping you up with ease and wrapping you around his frame. Bringing you to the middle of the ring and laying you on the ground, looming over you again as he stripped off his pants. Straddling your bottom half, leaving you dumbfounded by how big he was as he pumped himself a few times.

"Told you if you came here, we do this my way. Arms up," he instructs.

As you stretched them over your head, Rafe took both your wrists and held you down. Your heart racing when you realized what he was doing, squirming as you felt him drag himself between your puffy folds. Rocking against him to create any extra friction as he continued to tease you as much as he could, surely revenge for your coldness towards him over the years.

"What's wrong, baby?" he mocks. "Tell me what you want."

"Need you..." you divulge, being met with Rafe's condescending laugh at your pathetic plea.

"You've made that pretty obvious, but that's not gonna be enough right now." he specifies, knowing what he ultimately wanted to hear and too far gone to keep denying yourself of him.

"Please, Rafe. Need you to fuck me." you confess, shuddering when you felt his fat tip circle your core.

"You had a change of heart or something? Not used to you being so nice to me," he revels smugly. "But since you asked so nicely."

You gasped as he slowly buried himself into you, fluttering around him as soon as he sunk into you. Keeping his motions steady and unhurried on purpose, clearly holding back from outwardly demolishing you right away.

You were already close to your high from his initial build-up, falling back into your bliss as he picked up a consistent flow, trembling as he started playing with your swollen clit. The hand he'd bounded you with loosening the more he lost himself in the essence of you.

"Is that why you've always been such a brat? Wanted me to do something about it? Shut you up myself?" he spits.

You clutched his face as his lips found yours again, unable to conceal how enamored you'd become by him. Losing your composure as his hips snapped into you, gawking at how his cock disappeared with every plunge into you. His athletic figure overtaking you without difficulty, looking like he was some Adonis.

"Rafe, I-" you plead, too consumed to even tell him you were reaching your peak, not that he didn't pick up on it.

"Let it out," he grunts, his rhythm unrelentless.

Shockwaves surged through your system as you let out a loud cry, drenching him with your arousal. Rafe pecking across your collarbones and up your neck until he was back at your lips, swallowing every noise you made. The action much more tender than he'd been up until then.

"Turn over," he barks, barely straying from the kiss.

"W-what?" you stammer, still recovering from the first orgasm.

"You heard me. I'm not done with you yet." he reprimands, straightening his posture. "On your knees."

He nodded forward to emphasize his command, eagerly awaiting what he'd do next. Moaning when he pawed at your backside and yanked you closer, not refraining as his palm glided across the flesh. Only noticing that you were facing the row of mirrors that covered one of the walls as you peered up.

He started hammering into you from behind, his technique now rougher from his new angle. You soaked in his reflection, observing how his torso flexed with every thrust, only becoming more turned on by the lewd scene unfolding in the mirror. Drunk off the sensation of Rafe, already knowing this wouldn't be a one-time thing.

"I think I prefer you this way, princess." he purrs into your ear, smacking your ass one more time. "Too fucked out to open that big mouth of yours."

His movements got hastier, but he still managed to pound at angles he hadn't from your previous position. Gripping your waist roughly as he slammed into you, effortlessly hitting your g-spot with every grind of his hips. In disbelief that the man that was fucking you into oblivion was the same guy that you'd written off for so long.

"You gonna cum for me again?" he gloats, lowering his face to hover beside yours.

"Please, Rafe..." you beg, holding his piercing gaze in the mirror, his warmth radiating onto you.

"Who knew you were so damn polite?" he snides, striking your rear one last time. "Gonna let me ruin that pretty pussy?" he growls, mewling desperately at his filthy declaration.

With a few more pumps, he filled you with his own release, not stopping until he was fully satisfied. Coming undone again yourself as he pushed you back over your edge, the only sound filling the silent gym being heavy panting. Your head dropping in front of you as you caught your breath, whimpering when you felt him pull out.

Reality hit you like a ton of bricks as you finally registered what had just happened. Still clouded in your daze as he left featherlight pecks up your spine, doing your best to ignore the sweet gesture. Unsure how to even go forward, regret swiftly replacing your once insatiable hunger, blaming the moment on pure weakness.

"Hey," you hear Rafe utter, meeting his eyes through the reflection. "I can already see those cogs turning, baby..."

"I just..." you hesitate, trying to find the right thing to say when you'd barely processed what was going on.

"You just what, hm?" he drawls, turning your head towards him as he captured your lips with his.

"You're fucking trouble, Cameron." you mumble, giggling softly at the sudden turn of circumstances.

"What? You didn't enjoy your workout?" He implies shamelessly. "Don't act like you weren't into it. And don't think I'm letting you get away so easily either." He playfully accosts you, toppling onto his back and making you squeal as he pulled you back on top of him, passionately kissing you again.

note: suuper long, suuuper dirty 🤭 i wish i was exaggerating when i say ive been editing this for like a month omfg sos my brain is actually rotted lmao. hope you guys like it!! i'm trying to actually write more since i've been making a lot of short-form content sooo please be kind bc i'm still trying to find my bearings again lolol🙈

[canihaveacalmtime]

Illegitimate child, that's how people always view you, the youngest prince/princess because you didn't inherit the golden hair from the king, your father, like your other siblings.

For over 10 years of existing, dealing with the servants gossip, your family's looks and low living conditions for a royal member, you just decided that maybe it's time to make a change so that you can soon leave this place. Maybe move to a faraway land or another continent to settle down, hoping that you'd never see any of them ever again.

You begin your moves by showing the servants their places, begin treating yourself so that you don't always look dead whenever you go out of your comfort zone, you also start to dress up more good looking so other nobles won't bother you during gatherings or big parties and over all, showing them their position and how they should treat you.

Despite the fact you may be a bit over-do your moves, you treat them back and be nice, you play fair and that's how other nobles begin to reach out to you, reach out to the person they misunderstood and you did gained a few close friends over time.

Your family noticed your changings as they begin trying to open up to you more but whenever you try to reply to their reach outs, your inner self refused. Maybe it's because of those neglected traumas, because they isolated you somewhere far away from the main castle, maybe because everything is just so new to you so you didn't know how to react or because, you just can't and don't want to connect to them again.

After all, you will leave soon, with the money you gained from a few business doings, heading out for a change of life, ripping the royal title off of yourself.

One evening, you were informed by one of the servants that your father wants you in the main castle for a family meeting so you try to wipe the tiredness you're having and attended. Your family told you that you're not an illegitimate child but a blood by blood royal member as for your hair, it was the enemy kingdom doing. To the past you, hearing this would be a huge change but to you now, does that even change anything? Does their apology even worth anything anymore? No, nothing will change.

"No matter what you say, I'll still leave soon. You won't have to deal with the stain of the imperial family no more." As you leave with a light smile, your brother tries to hold you back but you just lightly shove him off and left.

1 week before your leave, your family seems to be bothering you much more than you intended. How your big brother would visit you every hour of the day, how your older sister would being you hand-made desserts and tea that used to be your favorite, how the queen and king would willingly step inside the dirty tower, your deemed home, to convince you to move back into the main palace as you refuse every offer they gave.

That late night, the night you leave, as you are packing up nearly finish, your sister burst into your room without alarming, telling you that your mother has got injured by an assassinate attempt and that the queen needs you by her side. You are debating, you want your freedom now but you may be bad but not a monster so even if inside you screams 'don't go', you gave in and follow your sister to the main palace, maybe if you trust your instincts and turn around to see how your sister smiles at you, maybe you will have a change of choice.

Maybe if you didn't doubt yourself too much, you wouldn't have gotten trapped inside your new room now in the main palace. The mages did a really good job on preventing you from escaping the room, now that you are completely in their hold, they can show you that they can be the family that you deserved.

Stop crying and hurting yourself, they can't stand seeing you in such a state. If you don't, they have no other choice but to using 'restraints' on you and I'm sure, you wouldn't want that to happen.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

While im at it: maybe a cute blurb about Quinn x reader when the have been together for a while and she gets her period unexpectedly when she’s sleeping over. I had that happened to me before and it was mortifying and embarrassing but i feel like quinn would be sweet about it and make her feel better. Also i get super emotional and teary and stuff when im on my period and in pain so maybe that could be part of the blurb as well?🥴🥹🥰

I hope this is alright, lovie! Hopefully it checks all the boxes!

Morning had come too early.

Quinn was up before you, as was normal most days, but today you were in no hurry to get around. You had awoken to a very peculiar pain and you knew what it had signaled, but there was always a part of you that hoped that maybe it was just something else. Every single time it happened, "maybe it's just a stomachache or something," you'd try to convince yourself. However, every time it came around it was the same old situation.

It was never a big deal when it happened at your house, but you were at Quinn's this time. And, unfortunately, you were met with a not-so-nice surprise when you finally rolled out of bed. There it was, the unmistakable red stain on his pale grey sheets. You'd sigh before stripping the bed, grabbing something new to wear and your bag, and tiptoeing to the bathroom, hoping Quinn wouldn't hear you. "Of all goddamn days," you'd mutter to yourself, just annoyed with how your day was starting. A little cold water and some friction would do the trick in releasing the blood from the fabrics but still...what a start to the morning.

After everything was taken care of, you'd finally leave the bathroom in no better mood than when you had gotten up.

The sheets and your clothes would get thrown in that day's laundry; out of sight, out of mind, for now anyway.

"Babe, what, uh...what happened to the sheets?" Quinn asked loudly, extremely confused by the state of his bedroom. He hadn't remembered leaving it like it was: blankets on the floor, pillows in a mountain beside them, and the sheets gone. You had made it to the kitchen; hugging your knees to your chest in the chair at the island, when he'd come looking for you.

"Baby?" He would ask again, "did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I um...I had to strip the bed. Sorry," you finally replied, turning your head away from him.

Standing beside you, he'd take a minute from what he was doing to check in with you. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm...peachy," you said, rolling your eyes.

Quinn pouted, his lower lip quite pronounced though you weren't looking at him. He'd reach out to put his hand to your back but you'd shrug him off.

"I'm fine, Quinn. You don't have to hover." Pushing past him, you'd return to the bedroom and lock the door behind you. His pout was gone now, replaced with his sad, puppy eyes instead and a heavy feeling in his chest.

"Baby?" He asked, standing in front of the door. He'd try the knob, but upon finding it locked he would sigh. He didn't know what he had done to make you so mad and so quickly. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Or...what I did?"

By the time he had gotten to the door, you had already pulled a fresh set of sheets from one of the drawers beneath the bed and was in the process of remaking it, wishing this entire conversation would come to an end. He would continue to try and get you to talk to him, but you would simply ignore him as you kept working. In the moment, you didn't care how he felt, you just want him to stop pressing what was wrong. You'd have enough self-restraint to keep from yelling at him to leave you alone, but not much.

Defeated and shutout, Quinn shuffled back to the living room and sat down on the sofa. His heart hurt; you had never been mad at him like this before, not in person at least. What had he done? Eventually, the bed got made, new pillowcases and sheets, and thankfully you hadn't needed to do any spot treatment on the mattress topper. It was bad enough you had to rinse the sheet stain in the sink, trying to explain why the mattress was wet was something you were happy to avoid.

With the bedroom put back together, you grabbed up the rest of the linens and went to leave the bedroom. By then, you were feeling guilty about how you had snapped at Quinn and as you stood paused at the door, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. How could you have said (and thought) such things? Hormones were a dangerous thing to not have control over. Quietly, you turned the lock and stepped out. Sitting on the sofa was Quinn with his head in his hands. The sight broke you; the tears like a floodgate after you blinked. You'd drop what you were holding and run over to him in a hurry.

"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry!"

He turned towards you, hearing your socked feet against the hardwood floor, standing to take you into his arms. Quinn would hold you so tightly as you cried just over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I made you mad," he said softly.

"I shouldn't have been so mean to you! I'm the one who should be sorry!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sniffled, trying to contain your emotions but you were failing.

"What's wrong?" He asked, leaning his head against yours, hands still tight around your body. "Talk to me. Please?"

"I...I got blood on your sheets."

"That's okay, baby," he reassured, placing a kiss against your ear. "I don't care about that stuff. You should have just told me, I would have helped you. I could have taken care of everything for you."

"I couldn't have asked that of you. I did it..."

"It happens, sweetheart. It's natural; it doesn't gross me out, okay? Not a big deal at all."

Somehow, his kindness made you cry more, and you would dig your nails into his back, fearful he was going to pull away.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," you wept.

Quinn shook his head slightly, "I'm okay, sweetheart. I just didn't know what had happened. You know you can talk to me about anything, you know? I'll never judge you for anything -- ever."

He truly wasn't like most guys, which made how you treated him earlier so much worse. "I can't believe I did that to you!"

"Shhh," he whispered, a hand now resting on the back of your head, the other low around your waist. "I'm not mad at you. Let me take care of you, today, hm?"

How could you let him do such a kindness to you when you were so sour with him mere moments ago? How was he so kind when he had every right to be upset and distant?

"No, baby," you declined, not because you didn't want him to dote on you, but because you didn't think you deserved it.

"Please? I want to."

There simply was no telling him -- no. Your silence would let him know you had folded and his soft words would leave you melting.

"Why don't you sit down while I go draw you a bath, okay?"

Reluctantly, you withdrew your hands from his back and let some space develop between the two of you. Quinn gave you a smile, wiping away the lingering tears from your cheek. His hand would caress it after, pulling you forward for a quick kiss.

"I won't be too long, okay? I'll get everything ready and I'll come get you."

You gave a nod, his hand falling away from your face slowly. Finding your seat at the island, you'd wait patiently for Quinn to return. You couldn't help but feel so guilty about having him do things for you, especially after you had made him feel so poorly. Maybe there was something you could do for him, but while you sat there and pondered, nothing came to mind.

Hearing doors open and close, you wondered what he was up to, but you'd stay where you were to avoid spoiling his surprise.

"Alright, sweetheart," Quinn said, walking to the end of the hallway. "Why aren't you sitting on the sofa?"

"I don't--," you stammered, finding it hard to find your words. "I didn't want to get anything...on it. Things happen...you know."

"And I'll take care of it, baby. Today is about you being comfortable."

You made your way over to him, trying not to be sad. "You're far too sweet."

Quinn shook his head, "I'm giving you exactly what you need."

"Quinny," you mumbled, your eyes feeling wet with tears again.

"All for you, sweetheart."

You'd allow him to lead you down the hall to the bathroom which was blanketed with steam. The air smelled like a multitude of different floral notes and the warmth of the room danced around your exposed skin.

"I'm going to give you some time alone to get comfortable then I'll be back to check on you."

- - -

There was a knock at the door.

"May I come in?" Quinn asked just on the other side.

"Mhm," you replied, submerged in the still steaming water just below your shoulders. Your hair was up, with a few tendril-like strands framing your face.

"Hello, beautiful." There was a mug in his hand as he approached you with another smile on his lips. There was nothing you loved more than seeing that genuine expression light up his face. You couldn't keep your stomach from doing a flip-flop feeling, just being overwhelmed with his sweet generosity.

"How are you feeling?" He asked handing you the cup. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thank you, baby, and I'm okay."

He pouted, playfully, "Aw, just 'okay'? I'll have to try harder I guess."

Before you could tell him there was nothing more he needed to do, due to the cup to your lips, Quinn stepped around to the back of the free-standing tub and put his hands on your shoulders. The feeling of his touch made your eyes roll up into your head slightly. His delicate fingers began to knead away any tension you had been carrying. You couldn't help but let the faintest moan escape your lips. Quinn didn't need to ask you if what he was doing felt okay, and you also wouldn't be able to see his smirk either. Lost in the bliss of his touch, your head would fall forward slightly. Quinn hinged slightly at his waist to be able to place the softest of kisses to your neck.

"I love you," he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

Goosebumps surged over your bare skin, feeling his breath against your neck. Now was not the time to want him in that way, but he was making it too easy.

"You're teasing me," you whined, your eyes still closed, but enjoying every single second of him on your skin.

"But do you feel good?"

"Mhm."

He grinned, placing, in quick succession, several more from your ear down the curve of your neck. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, baby, you've done more than enough," you replied, nearly breathless. "Thank you."

"You let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?"

"Maybe another ten minutes?"

Quinn nodded, letting his fingertips trail across your shoulders as he moved back towards the door. "Take your time."

Almost like he had set a timer, Quinn came back within ten or so minutes, a towel and stack of clothes in his arms.

"Fresh out of the dryer."

"Oh, Quinn," you said, taken aback by his kindness.

"Just trying to help."

- - -

The warm towel and clothes had been a nice transition from the bath water and had been something that hadn't crossed your mind to do or ask for. Just the thought of it again made you smile. It had been several minutes since Quinn had came to check on your which made you wonder what he could be up to now. Knowing him, it would be something for sure.

He had brought you one of his hoodies, a t-shirt, some leggings, and a pair of thick fuzzy socks; your usual "time-of-the-month" outfit. Quinn's observance was unapparelled. You dressed quickly and dealt with things in the bathroom before seeing what your man was up to.

"Quinny?" You asked, looking around.

"I was just about to see if you were alright!" He replied, meeting you in the hall. "How was your bath?"

"Wonderful," you said, giving him a kiss. "Thank you."

Quinn smiled, taking your hand. "One more thing for you."

"Baby," you whined, feeling he had simply done enough, but you'd follow him without hesitation.

There, in the living room, Quinn had the sofa all set up. There were pillows from the bedroom, a couple quilts folded back with a heating pad sandwiched in, and a towel down covering the cushion. Your eyes had migrated there first, which brought on a wave a guilt.

"It's just to ease your mind, baby," Quinn said, seeing the change in your mood. "I don't care what happens to the sofa. It's just stuff. This wasn't to make you feel bad."

"Okay," you mumbled, trying to stay happy, letting go of his hand to sit down. Quinn was quick to tuck you in, after placing the heating pad against your stomach.

"Baby, you don't have to do everything."

He just laughed, "I know. Here's the remote-thing for that, I didn't know how hot you would want it."

"It's perfect, sweetheart, thank you."

Quinn sat down beside you, his hand finding yours as you leaned your head on his shoulder. "Lunch?"

"Okay," you said yawning. That bath had really drained your energy, but everything had been perfect. "What do you want?"

"What do /you/ want?" He pressed, giving your hand a squeeze.

"I want a nap."

Quinn laughed again. He couldn't deny that a nap sounded pretty good to him as well. "Well, let's order something and we'll curl up for a nap?"

It was too late for you, because as soon as your eyes came to a close, hand-in-hand with Quinn, you were out.

"Babe?" He asked when you didn't answer him about lunch, but all he could do was chuckle quietly. "Nap first, then lunch. Fine with me."

[raguiras]

POV: Deuce's very first kiss from his crush

(Click for better quality)

I'm finally officially introducing my Yuu/OC x canon/Yumeship here! (✿◕‿◕) Writing this post took me forever, but I'm super happy with it!

Reblogs are super appreciated hehehe

Please be kind & DO NOT take inspiration from this ship. ^^"

(While Allen isn't me, I'm calling them a Yumeship because he's based on my younger self/me when I first started playing TWST & because the ship gives me a ridiculous amount of comfort!)

Allen x Deuce (aka Spade of Storms) is my ultimate comfort ship and they mean a ton to me.

These two are best friends who become lovers and closely mirror each other. Deuce is the delinquent with rather bad self-control who tries to be a model student, while Allen is a former honor student who's now a very lowkey delinquent with stellar self-control and a mature attitude.

Due to the fact that Allen and Deuce are so similar and yet the opposite of each other, they're able to excellently understand and support the other, and they help each other accept themselves.

Their ship blog: @spade-of-storms (facts, drabbles & more est. May 2024)

Now why exactly are these two perfect for each other? Well...

LONG TEXT AHEAD!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Deuce:

Allen supports Deuce with all his heart. Instead of believing that someone "as stupid and temperamental" as Deuce could never become an honor student, Allen fully believes in him and encourages him. In comparison to when other people say it, these words actually have an incredibly strong impact on Deuce and are believable to him because he knows that Allen has similar experiences and speaks from them.

Allen doesn't think that Deuce is stupid in the slightest and views him as genuinely smart. To Allen, intelligence isn't determined by grades or academic abilities, but by morals, attitude, logic, and willingness — all of which Deuce has.

Allen doesn't try to change Deuce. Rather than turning Deuce into a full-on honor student and role model, which he isn't by nature, Allen prefers for Deuce to stay true to himself and work towards his goal while not suppressing any aspect of who he is — Allen knows exactly that forcefully becoming someone you naturally aren't would cause more issues than it would fix. In order to assist Deuce with staying true to himself while working towards his desired self, Allen does several things:

Allen lets Deuce be his 100% authentic self when they're together. Deuce tries extremely hard to always be polite and serious in order to maintain his reputation and not resort to old habits, but Allen, being very impulsive and easily angered himself, knows just too well that suppressing one's feelings and true nature isn't the way to go. When they're together, Deuce can openly rant about topics, use insults towards the people who angered him, and show his emotions without having to worry about how others perceive him or about how it might mess up his reputation — Allen would never judge Deuce nor share his secrets with others. This way, Deuce can be himself without restraints while also maintaining the way he wants others to perceive him.

Allen allows Deuce to be a delinquent in a safe, harmless way. If Deuce ever feels like doing something forbidden without breaking rules or staining his reputation, Allen (a very lowkey delinquent) has just the ideas for him. This provides a comfortable space for Deuce to live out his tendencies without falling back into bad habits.

Allen is able to introduce Deuce to a wide range of healthy coping mechanisms that work for him. Allen is a much angrier person than Deuce and is equally impulsive, but has stellar self-control due to the methods he uses, and passes them down to Deuce. As a result, Deuce doesn't feel the need to immediately lash out at others anymore and manages to become calmer and much more mature, taking steps into his desired direction.

Allen helps Deuce channel his "negative traits" into positive/helpful ones. With Allen's assistance, methods, reassuring words and unique view on things, Deuce learns how to use the qualities that he used to hate about himself to his advantage. Suddenly Deuce's anger is no longer a hindrance, but a source of energy and motivation.

Allen admires the things Deuce hates about himself. While Deuce wishes he wasn't as hot-headed, Allen views it as an amazing trait and sees the passion and longing for justice behind Deuce's fiery attitude. Additionally, Allen is able to help Deuce see the positive side of these traits, and aids him in channelling them into something good to use to his advantage (see above).

Allen is the only person to fully get through to Deuce. Due to them essentially having the same experiences, opinions, wishes and morals, Deuce felt comfortable trusting Allen with every last bit of his heart (in comparison to other friends) — not to mention that the way Allen was able to help Deuce so intensely and actually talked to him the way he needed it also played a role! Allen has his way with words and knew exactly how to talk to Deuce from the beginning.

Deuce can genuinely open up about his self-esteem to Allen. It's been heavily hinted at in the game several times that Deuce thinks incredibly lowly of himself, but this topic is usually cut short and he doesn't talk about it further with the canon Yuu. With Allen, however, Deuce can open up all he wants to. He knows that Allen has similar experiences and struggles with self-worth related issues himself, therefore not only not judging Deuce, but also fully understanding him.

Allen perfectly understands Deuce's past. Having been feared, avoided and known to be a delinquent/bad kid himself, Allen even understands the details extremely well. Neither of the two ever had a proper friend until they met each other on their first day at NRC.

Allen successfully helps Deuce with his studies despite hating school. Seeing how Deuce needs help, Allen (the "gifted kid") gladly volunteers, even though he's no longer interested in class and has sworn to drop the "honor student" facade himself. Due to Allen's easy explanations, methods, photographic memory and capability to catch on quickly, Deuce actually manages to improve his test results by 1-2 grades.

Allen's study methods are unique, which helps Deuce & is necessary for him. Being a slow learner (I also hc him to have some sort of intellectual disability), Deuce requires rather unique approaches to topics. As Allen is well-versed with both studying and psychology and also keeps Deuce's exact issues in mind, he's able to perfectly tailor methods and mnemonic bridges that actually work out for Deuce.

Allen makes sure that Deuce's desire to be a model student is & stays healthy. A fair part of Allen's trauma stems from being an honor student himself and having unrealistically high expectations regarding grades and attitude shoved down his throat by everyone at school (including himself), so he pays a lot of attention that the same doesn't happen to Deuce.

Allen respects Deuce a ton. Not only is Deuce determined, passionate, loyal, honest and eager, but he has the same core values as Allen, too. In Allen's opinion, finding someone with these traits is not only rare, but immediately makes them endearing to him.

Allen is patient with Deuce. He understands that Deuce occasionally has a difficult time processing and understanding things, and he isn't bothered by it in the slightest. This means even more when you consider that Allen is generally a very impatient person and is only able to be patient with those he truly loves and trusts.

Allen fills Deuce in when he doesn't understand something. Due to Allen being able to catch on extremely quickly, he can immediately explain things and situations to Deuce, helping him out and allowing him to get everything right from the beginning.

Allen indirectly protects Deuce. Known for being intimidating (in a good way), quick-witted, sly and a skilled schemer, most people — including those who enjoy picking on Deuce — shy away from Allen and avoid getting in trouble with his friends.

Allen stops Deuce from getting into fights. Whenever Deuce is about to get into a fight anyway, Allen gently but sternly reminds him of both his goal and the healthier coping mechanisms.

Allen understands that Deuce dislikes being picked on. Allen, being a sensitive person, hates it himself, and he actively tells off everyone who dares to make fun of Deuce or call him "Loosey Deucey". At times, Allen even gets snappy because of the inappropriate nicknames or insults directed at Deuce.

Allen inspires Deuce. Him being skilled at a variety of things and just logical in general gives Deuce the motivation to achieve the same. Deuce doesn't compare himself to Allen, either, and views him as an inspiration. If Allen can control himself and get positive things out of his negative traits, so can Deuce, right?! Not to mention that Allen is extremely tough and pulls through no matter what despite his mental and physical state...

Allen's maturity subconsciously wears off on Deuce. Even outside of the fact that Allen helps him grow and improve a lot through all the ways mentioned before, Deuce sometimes also subconsciously copies his boyfriend's mature attitude or asks himself what Allen would do in certain situations.

Allen is an advisor to Deuce. Deuce struggles with planning ahead, and Allen — a big-time overthinker who's extremely competent at scheming — is able to assist him. As a result, Deuce makes less bad decisions.

Allen loves blastcycles. Deuce can rant about them to Allen for hours, and the two often go on blastcycle dates together. Nothing is more fun than clinging onto your partner while driving at full speed!

Allen values Deuce's company like no other. Deuce regularly feels like a nobody, and Allen takes that feeling from him due to how much he connects with him and likes having him around.

BONUS: Allen is not only beautiful but also has an incredibly strong personality, drive, and determination and hasn't given up despite everything that happened to him. Deuce is a massive simp and his humongous crush on Allen has always been obvious due to how Deuce just can't shut up about him.

Allen:

Deuce loves and accepts Allen's body. As we have seen through his interactions with Azul and Epel, Deuce is very protective of people who don't fit the norm, and Allen is another such person — an intersex boy who was bullied for his unconventional body. Deuce has not only sworn to protect Allen from any possible discrimination, but also loves his body dearly and thinks he's super hot.

Deuce gives Allen a sense of stability. Allen's life was all about short-lived fake joys and prevailing negativity prior to coming to Twisted Wonderland, which made him feel disconnected from many things and people and gave him the feeling that everything is temporary anyway. However, Deuce's fierce loyalty and the strength of their relationship prove Allen wrong — yes, there can indeed be things in life that last forever.

Deuce's utter affection warms Allen's empty heart. Allen was never loved by anyone but his parents, who he thinks only love him because he's their son. Other than that, he never experienced love, affection, ... or even mere friendship. He was alone... until he met Deuce, who he somehow immediately connected with. It was as if their friendship was predestined by the universe... and with every day, Deuce's affection for Allen only grew.

Deuce genuinely admires Allen. Seeing how Allen always does his best, works hard, has ambitions and aims to improve impresses Deuce a ton. This is extremely healing for Allen, whose efforts were never properly recognized or rewarded before and who thinks that he needs to perfect at everything in order to be "someone".

Deuce makes Allen feel useful and resourceful. Allen often believes that he has no worth and could never make a change for the better no matter how much he tries, but seeing just how much he's able to help Deuce with a wide range of things proves Allen wrong — he's indeed capable of a lot of things. Not to mention that Deuce even passes some of Allen's tips down to Epel!

Deuce's honesty is refreshing to Allen. After being lied to and tricked by about anyone Allen ever knew before coming to Twisted Wonderland, Deuce's natural honesty and loyalty are an unfamiliar but utterly wonderful experience for Allen.

Deuce makes Allen feel understood. Allen often believes that others would view him as a monster if they were aware of his secret anger and opinions, but Deuce shares many of them. These two can openly talk about their values together and Allen feels extremely understood because of it — a feeling he barely ever experiences with other people.

Deuce helps Allen enjoy the moment. While he has some overthinking tendencies himself, Deuce is much more spontaneous than Allen and tends to act more on impulse. As a result, he can show his ways to Allen, allowing the overthinker to finally relax and think about his problems a little less.

Deuce doesn't hesitate to stand up for Allen. The fact that Allen was bullied for something he can't change in the past saddens and angers Deuce, and he has sworn to himself that he'll always protect his boyfriend. If there should ever be another situation where Allen gets bullied, Deuce won't hesitate to absolutely throw hands — this is not being a bad person and picking fights, it's standing up for an innocent person whose life was ruined by malice. Deuce wouldn't regret it in the slightest anymore, especially since Allen has helped him learn than anger isn't a bad thing.

Deuce helps Allen with becoming a proper mage. When Allen first gains magic during the final quarter of the school year, he has absolutely no control over it and is partially even avoided due to being a "walking health hazard". Deuce, however, sees this as the perfect time to pay Allen back for helping him study theory and decides to assist Allen with practical things. Through Deuce's determination and belief in him, Allen is able to improve much quicker than he would've without Deuce's help.

BONUS: Deuce is the warmth and honesty that Allen needs in his life. The boy's mere presence lights up Allen's day and Deuce's careful physical affection makes him feel like the most cherished person in the universe.

What else is there to them? (examples)

Both are extremely close with their families.

Due to being so similar and sharing many personality traits, loving each other so deeply allowed them to realize that they can easily love and accept themselves, too.

Deuce's previous incarnation had a crush on Allen's, who died way too early. In this life, the regrets of the past are being fixed.

Allen's the brain, Deuce is the brawn.

They're both extremely cuddly with each other.

LOTS OF COMPLIMENTS (from both sides).

Deuce often gifts Allen plushies.

Allen and Deuce are basically inseparable by now.

If you hang out with Deuce, you have to suffer through at least one tiny ramble about Allen.

...and much more that can be found on @spade-of-storms!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the art & ship and are looking forward to more of them! (✿◕‿◕)

EDIT: Please do not take inspiration from this ship. ;-;

[reddesires]

Sex with Logan Headcanons

Logan Howlett x Reader

A/N: Hehe I wanted to put my Itty bitty input of how sex with Logan would be like, I headcanon ts outta of this.

18+ MDNI!

▪︎ You can guarantee this man will MANHANDLE tf outta you, all that stress and anger WILL be used as an outlet to fuck you, you can count on that.

▪︎MARKS, MARKS, MARKS!! He's big on making sure that your skin is littered with the aftermath of your steamy lovemaking. Your neck and thighs displaying his hickeys, you ass tingling with the marks that his rough hands slapped on to it, and you shoulder baring his bite marks (i also headcanon that he has sharp canines 🤭) And he's incredibly smug and proud no matter who sees it.

▪︎ He's VOCAL in bed, a master at dirty talking (he quite literally talks you through it), and he wants you to be vocal too, he doesnt care who hears. He isn't afraid to show that he's enjoying your body, the groan, and growls harmonious in your ears (AHHH, IM BITING AT MY BARS BARKBARK)

▪︎ CERTIFIED MUNCHER!! bro acts like he's starving just from how he be going at it, he's down to eat it anytime honestly and he fr a menace with how bad he be fiending for your pussy.

▪︎ Animalistic. Do I really need to say more? (I will if asked LOL)

▪︎ He can be gentle if you ask him. He'll put more energy into making it more sensual and passionate. Body worshipping to the MAX "God, you're so beautiful, princess" + "Come on, let me hear those pretty moans, baby." (Sedate me pls.)

▪︎ Stamina is outta of this world, and it definitely surpasses a normal human's. He can go multiple rounds and he'll make it his goal to make you cum each and every time, he loves seeing you whine squirm under him, it's a pretty sight and turns him on immensely.

▪︎ More of a giver than a receiver, it feeds his ego when he sees how you crumble under his touch and he truly thinks you are the most beautiful being especially when you are clutching his bedsheets and your face turns with pleasure as he makes you cum.

▪︎ HIS CLAWS UNSHEATH WHEN HE'S CLOSE!! It's like it's so overstimulating for him when hes about to cum that it just automatically happens without him even meaning to, but he's always careful not to accidentally nick or stab you (it's his worst fear to hurt you mistakenly).

▪︎ Breeding Kink. This mf is freaky and he's not afraid to show it, he'll let you know that he wants to fill you with his cum. It's on his mind non-stop, and it drives him crazy when you beg him for it. What little self-restraint he has is thrown to the side as he goes all in to finally give in. (I STAND BY THIS.)

I'M GONNA STOP NOW (even tho I could actually keep going NO I MUST REFRAIN). Ugh, Logan is my dream man, istg, I'm obsessed.

I have reposted too much content with him. I think others are concerned, LOL. im totally normal about this man 🤞

OKAYBYE!

[quartzteph]

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TGS!!!!!

I've had this design for a recombined Jekyll rolling around in my head for months now, so I finally took the time to draw him. For the sake of clarity I'll refer to him as Re!Jekyll (short for Recombined Jekyll) (also the prefix "re-" feels kinda fitting for him, since he is whole once again). I have many ideas/headcanons for him, but I'll put all that under the cut :)

As for the drawing itself, I tried to mimic the look of the comic for the most part. (Note: Many of the colors used here were colorpicked from the comic to ensure accuracy.) I wanted him to look less like a 50/50 mix of Jekyll and Hyde and more like a Hyde-ish Jekyll, so I opted to give him the same face and hairstyle as Jekyll, but with some Hyde-like qualities. Aside from the obvious blonde streak, his hair is fluffier, messier, and a bit longer. The hair tuft/sideburn things in front of his ears are based on a mix of the hair tufts that hang in front of Hyde’s ears and university Jekyll’s sideburns. While he mostly wears red, he likes to include a touch of green, as seen here in his cravat. Also he gets the dark eye circles, as a treat. (I just really like Hyde's dark eye circles and don't have enough self-restraint to not give them to Re!Jekyll.)

Bonus doodles cause i love my freak son:

Various headcanon ramblings about him (plus drawing process) under the cut:

When he's trying to look more respectable, he uses his now-longer bangs to hide his green eye. At first, he also attempts to make his hair look neater, but this is a near impossible task that he eventually gives up on. (He is doomed to live out the fuzzy-headed mad scientist stereotype.)

When people question his sudden change in appearance, he claims his blonde streak and green eye are the result of a chemical formula splashing him in the face (á la Two-Face). Yeah this sounds a little far-fetched, but he is charming enough to get away with it. (Besides, he knows way more about alchemy than they do, who are they to question it?)

This sudden merging of identities is initially super disorienting. It takes him a while to get used to it. (In the first few days, he keeps referring to himself with "we". He eventually breaks this habit tho.)

Has a bit of an identity crisis. (I'm specifically envisioning a scene of him staring at his wardrobe, mostly full of reds and greens, and getting stuck because he doesn't know what color to wear.)

Jekyll and Hyde were so used to having someone constantly there, listening to them and yapping in their ears (or in their heads, rather). Now, for Re!Jekyll, life feels so quiet. It's peaceful, but also a little lonely.

Has a bad habit of talking to himself aloud. When he's alone, he sometimes has whole conversations or debates with himself.

Struggles more with the mundane parts of his job due to having Hyde's impulsiveness and wanderlust. He occasionally has to take little breaks from all the paperwork when he becomes too restless.

He's still goopy. Moments of extreme emotion (stress, anger, excitement, etc.) can trigger the green goop. (Think that one scene in Ch. 14 when the priestess startles Hyde, causing goop to spew from his face.) I like to imagine the guilt of everything he's done hitting him and causing him to have a "that one scene in Howl's Moving Castle" moment.

In rare moments of severe inner turmoil or repression, he may even go into convulsions in addition to the goop, as if his body is trying to transform. (Feel free to disregard this one if you wish, this is 100% just me being super self-indulgent cause I love angst.)

Despite his many newfound struggles, he’s actually very happy! He now knows that Lanyon loves and accepts every part of him, and this helps him to better love and accept himself.

And now drawing process images! Shoutout to that one Re!Jekyll who is way too excited about something:

[mt-oe]

mizu dating a reader who NEEDS to be close to mizu during intimacy? like, no kneeling down and doing xyz to eachother, reader just absolutely needs to be stomach to stomach, chest to chest, arms wrapped around mizu during any type of sexual and romantic intimacy with her, and mizu just baby talks the reader sweetly instead of being rough 🥹

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so so much for the request! I love this request so much. I'm such a big fan of being skin-to-skin while doing the act, like yes please ma'am //// make me feel loved and wanted www

Although, I do have to apologize if this kinda sucks and it took so long. Trying to make people horny when you can't get yourself horny is hard ;; also, I'm pretty bad at gauging whether someone is being sweet or rough during sex ;;

I still love writing for you all, regardless if its smut or not, so please keep requesting the ideas you'd like <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, smut (mdni!), sex toy, mention of impregnation, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Her breath hitched slightly at the sight below her. The image of your naked body, laid down on the futon never failed to amaze her. She's seen you naked many times and in many different positions too. Head down, ass up; thighs around her head, pussy drowning her; even standing up, clit rubbing against the corner of table. No matter how many times you've done it together, she swore you only got prettier and prettier.

Moans and small incoherent whines reverberating in your throat as her index finger ran through your folds slowly, pushing the pad of finger against the sensitive area as if you were a flower she was pushing the petals open to bloom. She savored the way your body twitched when her finger trailed over your clit before moving down again. Slick gathered on the digit, making each movement smoother than the last.

"L-Love..you're going to drive me insane," you whispered breathily, one hand spreading yourself like a good girl for her, the other covering your mouth with the back of your hand out of shyness.

She looked up at you, an unreadable expression on her face. It was as if her self-restraint was dancing in between her own arousal and her desire to fulfill your wishes. Slowly, she ran her finger up your folds before flicking it upwards, brushing against the sensitive nub, making your body jolt.

"Didn't you say you wanted it slow today?" she asked, playing with the slick that coated her finger, rubbing it against her thumb before watching a thin line of your wetness connect her fingers as she separated them. "Or did you change your mind?"

You pouted at her, giving her a light-hearted glare. Your cheeks were still dusted with a bit of pink, breath still shallow from the slow teasing pleasure she just put you through. "I..I did..but I was hoping you'd do a bit more because I..umm.." She watched as your eyes darted off to the side, looking a bit nervous. "What is it?" she asked, bending down slightly, clean hand now resting on your cheek.

A soft nervous exhale passed through your nose as you slowly sat up. Blue eyes watched as you rummaged through your pile of recently discarded clothes, one hand resting at the dip of your hip as if assisting your trembling body.

"I..want to try something new," you declared to her, sitting up straight, a pouch made of opaque fabric in your hand. Mizu slowly took the pouch from your hands, squeezing it curiously, trying to guess what was inside just from the feel. "The madame gifted it to me when you left, but I never had the courage to use it."

Your words sparked the curiosity in her further. Opening the pouch, her eyes widened in surprise at what was inside.

A harigata?

She blinked, looked at you, then back at the contents of the pouch. You groaned at her actions, squeezing your legs shut in embarrassment. "Don't look at me like that.." you mumbled bashfully, watching as her hand pulled the sex toy out of its packaging. Another surprised grunt reverberated from her throat as she realized that the base of the dildo had some sort of strap attached on it. She inspected it curiously, eyes narrowing. It was the first time she's ever seen one of these.

"Look. If you don't want to, it's fine let's just—" She cut you off with a finger to your lips, eyes still inspecting the object. "Patience, love. I'm trying to figure out how to put it on," she said in low voice, removing her finger from your lips and tugging on the straps.

Once she felt like she got the gist of how to put it on, she stood up and pulled her hakama down, unraveling her fundoshi. As her hands went on to remove the binding on her chest, she turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow at how intensely you were staring. Red marks over her skin where the wraps covered her chest. You know they were a pain, but some how, seeing her like this made you appreciate how strong she was. "What?"

You shook your head with a soft smile, pulling your knees close to yourself. "Am I not allowed to look?" you asked jokingly, eyes wandering and tracing every curve of her body. A body that usually looked so masculine, revealing its true femininity to you only. She huffed lightheartedly, a smile ghosting her lips. "As if you haven't seen me naked before."

The smile on her lips grew as she heard you laugh, eyes and hands focused on strapping the sex toy on herself. Once she was done, she raised an eyebrow at it, the feeling of something between her legs felt odd. Her hand wrapped around the toy, stroking it languidly in an experimental manner.

She could feel you staring, eyes taking in the sight so hungrily. Her breath grew deeper as she heard the soft gulp from your throat. You couldn't help it. The sight was so sensual and she wasn't even touching you yet. You could feel the arousal running hot through your veins, wetness dripping onto the sheets. Although the more you stared, the more you realized..

'Isn't that..kind of big?,' you thought, a bit of nervousness mixing in with your anticipation. Your eyes taking in the curve, gauging the girth and length.

With an audible exhale, she turned towards you, hand holding the toy by the base. Her eyes half-lidded as she stared down at you. "Lay down," she commanded, voice gruff.

Your eyes widened as she sat in front of you, slowly crawling on top, pushing you onto the plush softness of the futon. "Wait, wait, wait..right now?" you laughed nervously, your hands on her shoulders to halt her actions.

Upon feeling your hands on her shoulders, she immediately paused and raised an eyebrow. "Why? Is there something wrong?" she asked, concerned laced in the low mumbling. Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the toy, breath hitching as you realized how close it was to your clit, almost ghosting over the sensitive nub.

Looking up at her, a blush dusted over your cheeks, both from embarrassment and desire. This was your idea damn it! Why are you getting so nervous now?

"Love?" she called out softly, hand going over to your cheek to caress it softly. Oh, how were you going to admit this now? Especially when she's being so soft with you? You took a deep breath, exhaling deeply through your nose.

"I'm getting nervous," you admitted in a whisper, legs squeezing slightly as the embarrassment intensified at your confession. "I-It's kind of big, okay?" You huffed at her puzzled expression, glaring a bit as her lips twitched up in amusement and a bit of fondness.

She chuckled and continued to push you down onto the futon. "Oh love," she laughed softly, filled with endearment. "Do you want to continue?" You could feel breath against your skin, chest almost touching each other. The sheer affection in her voice was enough to calm your nerves down, like some hidden form of reassurance. "You can take it, right?"

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, body sinking into the futon. Unable to speak, like the words were getting caught in your throat, feeling the want radiating from your lover. The desire so thick it was drawing you in. Indeed, it was drawing you in.

With your nod, slowly, she leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. Her hand grasped the toy once again, pushing the tip against your clit, rubbing against and lightly tapping it on the nub. You could feel her breathing deepen as she savored the sweet gasps and mewls coming from you. She'd press her lips harder against yours whenever your body twitched, as if she didn't want to let go even for a second.

Her sharp blue eyes remained glued to your figure, drinking in the sight. Your curves hypnotizing her with its beauty. "Can I put it in?" she whispered as her lips pulled away, lining the tip up against your entrance, spreading your wetness around.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer to you. Chests touching. Breaths mixing. Eyes looking at each other's, so lovingly you'd wonder if she even had a hint of lust for you or did she just love you so much to the point where she desired you. Even with how little the distance between your bodies was, it still wasn't enough.

You needed her.

You wanted to be so close to her, to the point where your bodies would melt together. You wanted her to swallow you whole, take in your being. You wanted to feel her weight on you, to push onto your body and knock the breath out of you.

"Hold me.." you breathed out against her lips, pulling her in for a kiss. She immediately obliged, lips pressing against yours. Her warmth enveloped you in a gentle embrace. The feeling of her tongue lacing with yours muffled the choked gasp you let out as she slowly pushed the tip in.

She could feel your nails along her back, raking it down her skin. It stung, but you were taking her in so well she couldn't stop, not even for a moment. The sound of your moan as she pushed the toy in further fueling the desire inside her.

A thin string of saliva connected your lips upon pulling away. Without her lips to muffle it, your moans and gasps filled the room. "Fuck..it's so fucking big, Mizu," you moaned out, looking up at her so enticingly. Shit you looked so pretty with your bedroom eyes and swollen lips.

It amused her how shameless you sounded. As if you didn't care whether these walls were quite literally made of paper.

"Halfway in, love..." she groaned out softly, voice slightly strained as if she could feel you through the smooth wooden object. Her hips pushing it in deeper until her cock was completely sheathed inside you. "You're doing so well," she whispered, body pressing closer. Nose against your neck, tits touching. "So good to me.."

The feeling of her body against yours sent shivers down your spine. Like her warmth, the pressure of her weight against yours, intoxicated you. The way her nipples hardened against your own making your mind go hazy.

Slowly, she pulled out, her eyes observing the way your eyes rolled back before squeezing shut as she thrusted back in slowly. "Does it feel good?" she asked. Shivers went down your spine as she nuzzled her nose against the crevice of your neck, hips pistoning the toy in and out slowly.

"M-Mhm..it feels so good.." you half-whined, half-moaned. Tilting your head as you arched your back, moving your bodies closer. "Hurry..love.." she heard you whisper wantonly onto her ear. Your legs locked behind her back, pushing her closer, wordlessly begging her to push it deeper.

Desire rushed in her system further. Her thoughts were clouded with how much she wanted to please you with her cock. Wet squelching noises and the sound of skin slapping against skin as she moved faster mixed in with your cries and moans. Hips bucking against hers, eyes rolling back, and mouth agape as she pleasured you.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure up your spine. Her arms wrapped around you tighter, almost possessively. She felt so warm around you, and even if you didn't know how it was possible, it felt like her cock was warm inside you too. It was exhilarating. You could feel your mind going static. She was fucking you so sweetly, and at the same time, fucking you so stupid.

You could feel her gaze on you, eyes roaming around your bodies together, watching your bodies melting together. "God..look at you," she whispered, lifting her head up to place a soft sweet kiss on your lips. Her pace becoming more and more erratic as your moans turned into incoherent sobbing and pleading. The familiar coil of climax tightened in your body from the pleasure she was giving. "You're so fucking pretty.."

Fuck. You couldn't take this anymore.

How could she dick you down so good while looking at you so lovingly? Your mind was already so scattered, tears from the overwhelming sensation streaming down your cheeks, and it felt like your cunt was melting. Mizu probably had no idea how good she was making you feel.

It didn't matter if her cock was fake and made of wood. She was going to get you goddamn pregnant.

"..'m gonna cum..I'm going to fucking cum," you sobbed out against her lips over and over in a desperate chant. A smirk graced her lips as she chuckled breathily at the cute display. "Go on..cum for me, love," she cooed, whispering sweet silent phrases about how good you were being and how much she loves you while her hips maintained its pace, driving you over the edge.

She continued to thrust in you as you orgasmed, her arms keeping your body trapped under hers as you arched your back. She'd keep you there, sex out the high from your climax. A loud moan ripping from your throat followed by sweet babbling about how hard you were cumming, even thanking her for fucking you so well.

Coming down from the euphoria, you slowly sank back into the sheets. Her hands traveled to the dip of your hips, holding you in place before slowly pulling out until only the tip was in. "How are you, love?" she asked softly, lips trailing kisses on your shoulder.

You closed your eyes shut, panting heavily. "..It felt really go—Oooh fuck!" Your reply was cut off by her slamming the toy back in, causing you to squeal. You immediately opened your eyes to glare at the mischievous look on your lover's face before she pulled out and slammed back in again, enjoying the overstimulated squeals coming from you with every thrust in.

It wasn't until you nudged her off from overstimulation did she stop, pulling out completely. Her eyes remained glued to your cunt, sopping wet, slick running down to your ass. She smiled sheepishly at you as she took the strap off, laid down next to you and wrapped her arms around your trembling body.

"You're horrible.." you mumbled, voice holding no real anger. She laughed softly and pulled you closer, humming in content as you wrapped your arms around her in return. "Don't laugh. We're returning that thing tomorrow," you huffed playfully.

Mizu shook her head and kissed the top of yours. "We're not doing that, love," she replied, closing her eyes with an exhausted smile.

"Yeah, we aren't."

[deakyjoe]

Pattern Breaker

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (afab)

Category: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love

Summary: A love confession turns to more once Bob knows you’re interested.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), protected p in v sex, f receiving oral (pussy eating king), vaginal fingering, grinding/dry humping, handjob, kissing, groping, scratching/marking, Bob fucks, love confessions, fluff, talks of bad dates, reader described as having hair and being shorter than Bob (but nothing else), swearing/cursing - let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 7.1k (it kinda ran away from me)

A/N: My humble contribution to the Bob Fucks Agenda 🫡

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bob Floyd was head over heels in love with you.

Yet he had no idea what series of mistakes had landed him here. In the Hard Deck. With you. Sat next to him. In a tight booth. Your thigh pressed up against his. Tracing patterns with the tip of your finger on the back of his hand. Many would argue that this didn't seem like a bad thing. Why would something so intimate with someone he was in love with be a mistake? Well, the issue was that you were doing it in a totally platonic way.

You were doing it mindlessly too, as you engaged in idle conversation with Phoenix opposite you, which almost made it worse. Bob Floyd's brain was whirring at a million miles per second over something you were doing without even thinking about it. It took every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from moving. Closer to you or further away, he didn't know. But he tried to stay still. So very still. Just so you'd keep doing it.

He was also desperately trying to pay attention to the story you were telling Phoenix, about the latest bad first date you'd been on. It appeared to be a regular thing with you. A string of first dates where you knew before you'd even ordered the entrées that they wouldn't be the right guy for you. And you always had valid reasons, at least in Bob's opinion.

"He told me he doesn't like sunsets." You groaned. "Like, who doesn't like sunsets?"

Bob personally loved sunsets.

Phoenix frowned at you. "Did he give a reason why?"

Bob imagined that Phoenix was feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. After all, she was the one who'd set you up with this guy. But he was thankful for it. He didn't know what he'd do with himself when you finally managed to find the right guy and it wasn't him.

"Something about the day ending and having a mindset about being on the grind I think, I don't know." You sighed, pausing your finger's movement against the back of Bob's hand for a moment before carrying on. He almost had a heart attack when you pressed your cheek into his shoulder and started leaning against him as well.

"Sorry it didn't work out. I can find you another guy maybe, umm..." Phoenix trailed off with a thoughtful hum.

But you waved her off. "No, it's okay. I think I'm done with blind dates for now."

Bob's head snapped towards you. Oh?

"If you're sure." Phoenix started to rise from the table, pressing her hands into the wooded surface. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. See you two tomorrow."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow." You smiled at her, nudging Bob with your elbow when he stayed silent.

He flinched away from you. "Ow! What? Oh. Yeah, goodnight."

Phoenix's eyes flicked between the two of you, an amused huff leaving her mouth before she gave you both a mock salute and left the bar.

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment as you relaxed against Bob's shoulder a little more.

"What about you? Ready to call it a night?" You asked, turning to rest your chin on his bicep so you could look up at his face.

He glanced at you briefly, turning away again when he realised how close your faces were in that position and cleared his throat. "No, I'm good here for a little longer. If you are?"

You nodded and sat up, extracting yourself from his touch completely. Bob almost sobbed at the loss of contact.

"Yeah, I'm good." You paused to take him in, how he wasn't looking directly at you. He did that sometimes. You always figured he was just a little awkward about eye contact. Which was a shame considering his eyes were your favourite shade of blue.

Bob did flicker his eyes towards you then, wondering why you were staring at him silently. "Are you okay?"

You shrugged. "I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" He turned to face you properly, knees angled towards you to show that you had his full attention. "What about?"

You looked at him for a few seconds too long, enough to make him anxious and you think that maybe you'd given something away with your eyes. "You know how when we met we just clicked?"

Bob was surprised at that question. But he knew exactly what you meant. So he nodded. "Yeah."

You scrunched your nose and looked away from him for a second. "Well, I'm not clicking with any of these guys I'm going on blind dates with."

He knew that, you’d said as much. So he really didn't know where you were going with this. "Okay...”

"I just wish it was as easy as it was with you. Like we just work together so perfectly, I don't even feel like I'm trying with you."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, looking sideways at you. "Uh-"

Your eyes widened and you were quick to clarify, hands held up in apology. "And not like I don't put any effort into it with you but just like I don't feel as if I'm constantly trying to make it work, y'know?"

He nodded again. "Sure."

You sighed frustratedly. "Do you get what I'm trying to say here, Bob?"

"Not really." He shook his head and gave a weak, apologetic smile.

You chuckled. "I'm trying to say that I've never clicked with a guy like I have with you."

"Right." He straightened up.

"But we're just friends." You said slowly.

He hesitated. "Mhm."

You squinted at him. "To cut it short I'm trying to say that I think I'm in love with you."

Bob could have fallen out of his seat.

"Oh!"

Now, that caught him really off guard.

"Well, I'm trying to figure out my feelings for you. Because they're certainly more than friendly!" You laughed quietly. "Which isn't really fair. To me or to you. But it's gotta be done because I'm sick of not clicking with men and being on dates where I'm just constantly thinking of how much easier it would be if I were sat across from you instead."

Bob ignored most of your rambling, fixating on one little statement. "Why's it not fair?"

Your face crumpled momentarily. "It's going to make it awkward for you if I am in fact in love with you. And it's unfair for me because I might be in love with a guy who only views me platonically."

Bob looked at you for a moment, eyes wide and almost pleading, and uttered your name softly.

You frowned. "What?"

He gave you a meaningful look.

"You do view me platonically, right?" You leant backwards. "Right?"

He glanced away from you before looking back, giving a short and sharp shake of his head. No.

The world shook around you.

"But- but you never made a move. I thought that you..." You trailed off into distressed thought.

"Oh, I made moves. Just not very obvious ones apparently." He cleared his throat with a quick cough, scrunching his face momentarily in embarrassment.

"Why did you never just say?"

"I guessed that you weren't interested since you never seemed to reciprocate my- my moves." He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the thought of his moves.

"But I'm all over you!" You exclaimed. "I'm so touchy!"

He froze and turned to you stiffly. "I thought you were just like that. With everyone!"

"Have you ever seen me touch another human being half as much as I touch you?" You said monotonously.

"Well..." He thought about it. He hadn't. You gave hugs, sure. But you certainly didn't stand with your head resting on anyone's shoulder, arms wrapped around their bicep like you did with him. You didn't sit next to anyone, legs resting over their thighs, like you did with him. You definitely didn't trace patterns on the back of anyone's hand like you had been with him earlier.

You let him think about it for a few moments before interrupting his thoughts. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you just say?"

Bob looked deep into your eyes, recognising the look of regret he could feel within himself. "By the time I had the courage to... the friendship was already solidified. And I thought it would ruin it."

"Oh, Bob." You smiled widely at him. "You should've said something. I had a huge crush on you when we first met."

Have a huge crush. Have.

He perked up slightly. "You did?"

No. Do.

"Yeah! I buried it after a while because I figured you weren't interested. And now I'm realising that I'm probably in love with you anyway." You found it almost funny how the two of you seemed to be in the exact same situation and yet had no idea how the other was feeling.

He decided to be honest. "It would certainly brighten my day if you were."

You had a thought suddenly. "Walk me home?"

Bob felt a sense of whiplash from the rapid change in topic. But didn't question it. "O-okay."

You grinned at him and motioned for him to get up, following him out of the booth and grabbing his hand once you were stood next to him. Not having to worry about closing out a tab with Penny since you'd been paying for drinks each time you ordered, you didn't hesitate in dragging him behind you out the back door of the Hard Deck and onto the beach.

You took a glimpse at Bob next to you, finding him already watching you. "Figured we could do the moonlit beach walk on the way back to my place."

He just nodded, not missing the way you were still grasping onto his hand as the two of you started walking in the direction of your home. The moonlight beach walk wasn't an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. You'd done it countless times before, in fact. It was just a nice thing to do that happened to involve some nice views that you both enjoyed. It just felt different this time, Bob thought to himself.

He had to ask. "Your last blind date, did he really not like sunsets?"

You looked at him, delighted by the seemingly random question. "Yeah. How off-putting is that?!"

"Very." Bob mumbled. "Y'know... I really like sunsets."

Ah, you saw what he was getting at.

"I know." You chirped. "I'll never forget the sunset on the day we met when you explained that the reason they're so colourful is because of the way the light scatters through the atmosphere. It was very purple that night."

His eyebrows shot up. He'd forgotten he'd told you that. But you were right. It had been very purple. He'd watched you take about thirty photographs of the sky. And knew then that he was in trouble.

The rest of the walk back to your place was quiet, a few passing comments made between the two of you as you pointed out a cute dog and Bob showed you where new flowers were beginning to blossom on a tree you regularly saw. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole time, swinging gently between your bodies.

It was easy. Just how it should be.

Silence shrouded the two of you as you approached your front door, wondering what was supposed to come next. Bob was still hung up on your sudden abandonment of your conversation back at the Hard Deck as you stopped at your door. Why had you dropped it?

The question escaped him as you suddenly tugged him a lot closer, so your chests almost touched, and lowered your voice.

"Come inside."

It wasn't proposed as a question, or even a request, but as more of a statement. Like you were telling him that he should follow you into your home to find out what happens next. Because of this, Bob could only reply with one thing.

"Okay."

There was no turning back now.

You beamed at him and rushed to unlock your door, flicking on a light switch once it was open and ushering him in behind you. Bob had been to your place countless times before, even crashed on your couch once or twice after nights there had run a little too long, but this time felt different. Just like the walk on the beach had.

He supposed it was because of what the two of you confessed earlier that night. But he still couldn't shake the thoughts about the fact that the conversation hadn't carried on to a point where he knew what was going to happen next between the two of you. Bob wanted answers. And he guessed that they were hidden in the depths of your home.

You guided him to your kitchen, offered him a drink which he politely declined, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the room to turn on your heel and look at him.

"Do you know why I asked you back here?"

He stilled a few paces in front of you. "Honestly? No."

You smiled at that. "Because I decided that I am."

Bob was even more confused. "Am what?"

You barked out a laugh like you suddenly realised you'd left out half of your sentence and that what you'd said had made no coherent sense. "In love with you. Absolutely head over heels. One hundred per cent.”

He said nothing in reply, sensing that you had more you wanted to say. He was right.

"And I wanted to be able to explore that possibility for us without prying eyes. In the privacy of my home." You huffed, slightly frustrated. Bob took a single step towards you. "I don't- I don't know how to say this."

He closed the gap, hands resting on your arms to reassure you. You'd never struggled to tell him anything and he certainly didn't want that to start now. "It's me. You can say anything to me. You know that. It's okay."

When you met his gaze again, your eyes were slightly glassy with tears. But you blinked them away. They were angry tears at yourself for taking this long to get to this point with him. It should've happened so much sooner.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. Bob knew what that meant, he was feeling it himself, but wanted you to say it.

Letting out a slightly shaky laugh, you composed yourself. "You might need to let me spiral and talk for a minute."

He smiled softly, surprised he wasn't doing his own spiralling and talking in this situation. "That's okay."

You nodded and sighed. "Okay, so. I don't want things to change between us. Well, I do. But, like, not everything. I still want us to be us. I still want to be able to tell you everything and have easy conversations and just go for walks on the beach and talk about meaningless things and have you explain stuff to me that you think I'll find interesting and sit close to each other just because we can not because we have to."

You stopped for breath and Bob felt like he was having to restrain his heart from bursting out of his chest.

"We'll still just be me and you and things will be easy between us. Like they always have been. But now... instead of sleeping on my couch after late nights, you'll- you'll sleep in my bed. And we'll kiss and, god, have a lot of sex I hope."

Bob chuckled at that and you joined him, happy to see that he wasn't freaking out at everything you were saying.

"We'll still be me and you but just... evolved. Right?"

Bob had started the evening knowing he was head over heels in love with you. He couldn't believe the night was ending with that love somehow growing even more, combining with yours to create some force that defied the laws of nature. The room was practically swimming in it, he could feel it prickling at the surface of his skin and taste it on the top of his tongue.

He nodded firmly at you. "Me and you but evolved."

You visibly relaxed under his hands and smiled giddily up at him. "Great, can you kiss me now?"

You didn't have to ask Bob twice.

The kiss started off sweet, almost innocent. A few, slightly open mouthed, pecks as the two of you giggled against each other. It was something new for the two of you. So even thought it felt right, it was still new territory to explore. But it didn't take long for it to take a turn. As soon as you opened your mouth fully to lick gently against Bob's lips, it was like something in him snapped.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you flush against him, chest to chest, and his other hand tangled in the back of your hair. His nose crammed into your cheek, his glasses falling slightly askew, as he licked into your mouth hotly with his head angled down to meet you halfway.

Your head whirled with the thought that he was good at this. Bob Floyd was an extraordinarily good kisser. Why hadn't you done this sooner?

You let out soft moans to encourage him despite him not even seeming shy about the idea anymore. In fact, Bob had no sense of restraint left in him. He'd waited so long for this, for you. And now he was lost in the feeling of your skin against his and the sounds you were making in reply to what he was doing. Which is why he let his hands drift across you more, not anchoring his touch to any specific place.

You felt like you were on fire, no time to breathe as breaks for oxygen were mere fractions of a second long. You'd never imagined him being capable of making you feel like this so quickly. Your lower abdomen burning with desire and your panties already practically soaked through. And he hadn't even touched you intimately yet. You could only hope that you were having half the same effect on him.

Bob's hands lowered themselves slowly, tracing along your ribcage, circling your waist, gripping at your hips, before he tentatively let them rest on your ass. You hummed in motivating appreciation and pushed yourself up even more to kiss him impossibly harder. He took that as a good sign, fingers digging into the flesh beneath them and rocking your pelvis towards his. Where you found that he was hard.

A noise rumbled in your chest, leaking out as a high pitched whine directly into his mouth.

Bob pulled away with a slight look of concern in his eyes which now held almost no trace of the blue shade you'd come to adore, pupils blown wide enough to engulf his irises. "Is this too much? We can slow down."

You shook your head, slowing down being the last thing you wanted. "No, I'm just surprised that you're so... handsy. I always thought you were a gentleman."

"Oh." He blushed a deep red, the colour reaching the tips of his ears. "I'm just eager, I guess. We can wait. I mean, I can wait. If it's too much."

You leaned back in closer to him, lips brushing across his. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

He did.

Somehow the second round of kissing was even more searing, almost consuming, than the first. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand gripping tightly onto his hair and tugging occasionally. Bob didn't let up squeezing at your ass after he'd realised that the sound you'd made previously was one of pleasure and not pain, rocking your hips into his a couple times more for good measure.

When his lips moved to trail a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, your eyes practically rolled back into your head. This was too good to be true. You were stood in your kitchen, at almost midnight, and Bob was sucking a hickey into your neck. How was this even real?

You realised that if you didn't move soon then the two of you were going to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. And whilst you weren't totally against the idea, you figured you should at least offer him the comfort of a bed for your first time together.

"Bedroom, Floyd. Now." You gasped, grasping his hair to pull him away from your neck. But when you got a good look at him, you almost abandoned the idea completely. His hair was ruffled from where you'd been pulling at it, his glasses sat crookedly on his nose, his face was flushed a rosy pink, his lips were swollen and kiss bitten, and his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. He was a sight to behold.

You snapped back to reality, fixed his glasses so they sat correctly on his face, clenched your legs together, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to tug him behind you towards your bedroom. Bob, of course, had no complaints about this and followed you very happily. After watching you kick off your shoes as the both of you scurried down your hallway, he did the same. Not many thoughts were occurring in his brain at that moment, not any clean ones anyway, but one thing was certain as he looked at you: he'd never wanted someone more.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him and before he had the chance to take in any of his surroundings he was pressed up against it and your lips were on his again, your hands desperately clutching at the bottom of his shirt to untuck it from his pants.

"Why- do- you- always- wear- your- uniform?" The question was asked between fiery kisses. Not that you were complaining. You loved to see him in his uniform. But he always looked so formal.

Bob waited until you were too distracted trying to unbuckle his belt to kiss him so he could get his answer out fully. "You once told me I look handsome in it."

You paused and tilted your head up to look at him. Taking in his open expression, you could tell that he was being honest. "God, I fucking love that you listen to me."

He laughed momentarily before his jaw snapped shut and he swallowed thickly as you began fumbling with his belt buckle again. "Your hands are shaking."

The observation was simple but had you freezing anyway. "Care to help a girl out then?"

Bob could tell that you were getting anxious, nerves suddenly overruling the initial excitement and lust. He could understand. He was currently running on the high of you dragging him to your bedroom. Maybe you also needed something like that to keep you going.

He glanced over your shoulder towards your bed and nodded towards it. "Lie down."

Bob watched as the fire quickly re-ignited in your eyes and you did as you were told, bouncing on the mattress as you sprawled yourself across it. Undoing his belt completely, he took a few steps towards you until he stood between your open legs.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him eagerly. The mattress dipped as he knelt on it and crawled across it until he was hovering over you.

You hummed quietly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Hmm, I like this position."

He leaned in close, as if going to kiss you. "I thought you might."

His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest. It was a tone you'd only had the privilege of hearing a few times before. During late nights when he was tired and could barely keep his eyes open as you continued to talk his ears off with meaningless nonsense but did so anyway just so he could listen to you talk. When he'd held you close to him during crowded nights at the Hard Deck and spoken directly into your ear so you could hear him over the sounds flooding the place. Moments that were intimate between you both but you'd been too oblivious to see as more than platonic.

It was the voice that Bob Floyd used to flirt with you.

You pulled back, wide eyed, to get a good look at him. "Oh, my god. You have made moves."

His brows scrunch for a moment, a confused laugh bubbling out of him. "Yeah, I said so earlier."

"I know but that voice." You poked his chest accusingly. "It's your flirty, sultry, bedroom voice! You've used it on me before!"

"It's not my-" He paused, thinking about it for a second, and then shrugged. "Oh, yeah. Maybe you're right."

"I like it, it's hot. Do it again." You giggled when he rolled his eyes, reaching your hands up to start unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"And what would you like me to say?" His voice dipped back down to the low tone and you had to suppress a shiver.

"Anything. I just like hearing you talk." You reached the last button and helped him slide the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a white undershirt that you knew always resided underneath. The brown uniform shirt was discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"How about how I think it's time for you to start removing some clothes? Since my shirt's off and my belt is unbuckled." His raised a finger to trace along the neckline of your t-shirt.

You whined. "Not fair. You're not even showing any skin yet. If I take my shirt off then all I've got is a bra on underneath."

Bob chuckled, low voice lost for a moment. "Is my white t-shirt not the equivalent of your bra?"

You pondered it for a moment. Maybe he was right. "Depends if you like the way my tits look in this bra as much as I like the way your biceps look in that white shirt."

He took a quick glance at his arms which were caging you into the bed, hand planted on either side of your head. "My biceps, huh?"

"A weakness of mine, I admit." You shrugged and sat up, pushing at his chest to give you some room. "Have to stop myself from biting them when I rest my head on your shoulder."

"For the record, I'd totally let you."

With a laugh you took Bob's hands in yours and guided them to the hem of your shirt, giving him a nod of confirmation. "You would now but let's be honest, it would've been a little unusual of me to just suddenly bite you before."

He tried desperately to keep eye contact with you as he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have said a word of complaint."

"I'll remember that for the future." You paused and noticed his frozen stare. "You're allowed to look, y'know?"

He knew but he was holding himself back with the knowledge that he'd probably go feral once he saw you without a shirt on. Just below his eye line he could tell that the bra you were wearing was lacy and pretty much see-through. He took a deep breath before looking properly and let out a very low groan when he saw that your nipples were hard and very visible through the fabric.

Bob's dick twitched in his pants at the sight. He feared he wouldn't last very long once the two of you actually got going.

You leant back on your hands and watched him look over you. It was kind of entertaining and certainly a confidence booster for you. "Like what you see?"

His eyes met yours again. "Shut up. You know I fucking do."

That sent a ripple of heat through you. Despite knowing him for so long, you'd never heard Bob curse. He'd let out the occasional damn at big inconveniences but never anything more than that. You figured it was part of him being such a gentleman and the fact that he loved to point out that his mother raised him right.

"Careful, Floyd. That dirty mouth will get you in trouble." You flattened your back onto the bed again, pulling him down on top of you by a handful of his shirt.

"If by trouble you mean with you underneath me then I'm willing to take that risk." His voice somehow got lower, a raspy edge being added to it. It's like he knew exactly how to break you.

You grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him down to kiss you again, you'd gone too long without feeling his mouth on yours, and you revelled in the grunt he let out against your lips.

This was a whole new side to Bob that you were seeing. And you were loving it. Somehow it was still so easy, the two of you continuing to just bounce off of each other and the sexual chemistry was luckily just naturally there as well. You thought it may have been slightly awkward between you but you'd never felt so confident about sleeping with someone in your life.

Bob realised he should probably check something before the two of you got any further so pulled away momentarily. "Do you have a condom?"

"Oh, yeah! Wait, hang on-" You slid away from him, hanging over the edge of the bed to rifle through a drawer in your nightstand. Producing a small box, you waved it triumphantly at him.

"Hoping those blind dates were going to be successful, huh?" He teased, reaching out to grab your waist to drag you back underneath him. He was relieved you had the box but if you didn't then he knew it wouldn't have stopped him from doing other things to you until you were able to buy some condoms.

Your jaw dropped. "No! Just never underprepared."

"I applaud your readiness. I'm sure if the apocalypse hits then we'll be thankful for your supply of condoms."

"If the apocalypse hits then we'll be tasked with repopulating the Earth and have to have lots of unprotected sex to do so." You bit back playfully, glad to see when his eyes fluttered shut momentarily at the mention of doing it raw. "Oh, you like that thought, huh?"

"You caught me. Guilty." He raised a hand in surrender before gesturing at you. "Now let's get naked so we can have lots of protected sex."

You had to fight back a surge of laughter but let a few giggles escape when you found Bob looking at you with an amused look of his own. You were glad that the two of you were still able to joke and be you even in an intimate moment like this, relieved that it didn't suddenly become serious.

Clothes were discarded and quick kisses were exchanged as the two of you inched closer and closer to where you both really wanted to be. After your bra had been unclasped and thrown into the void with every other item of clothing, and Bob had thoroughly explored your chest with both his hands and mouth, you fell back onto the bed with him on top of you for another round of kissing. It's like the two of you couldn't keep your lips separated for longer than necessary.

His bare chest pressed into yours, a sheen of sweat gliding between you, as he rocked his hips against you, grinding his hard length into your clothed pussy.

If you'd told Bob at the beginning of the evening that this was how his night would end then he would've laughed and told you he didn't believe you. But now that he was here, he couldn't have imagined it any other way. That's what made him realise that enough was enough.

He suddenly broke the kiss and sat up again, kneeling in between your legs. Hooking two fingers into the waistband of your panties, he made eye contact with you. "May I?"

You nodded vigorously.

Bob shook his head. "Words."

You could've orgasmed right there and then. "Yes, you can."

He took that answer and started to slide your panties down your legs slowly, helping you to lift your hips to get them off easier. Once they reached your ankles he plucked them off and cast them aside, planting a quick kiss on your calf before lowering your legs either side of him again.

You reached for the condoms to pass them to him, aware that you were only the one step of removing his underwear away before he'd finally be inside you.

But he pushed your hand aside, choosing instead to slide his palms down your thighs. "In a minute."

"We haven't got forever, y'know. Get on it." You laughed, curious as to what he was doing.

"Gotta get you ready first." He mumbled, pushing your legs apart so he could see better.

Oh? "I can assure you that I'm plenty ready and wet and would like your dick inside me now please."

"So polite." He hummed with a smile on his face. "And I can see how wet you are. Just gotta make sure that you're relaxed enough to take me."

"Somebody's confident about their size, huh?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "Would you rather me not go down on you?"

As much as you were teasing him not to, you very much wanted him to. "Fine, if you insist." You replied with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Bob almost chuckled, but when he looked up into your eyes again he was met with an angelic vision. You were stretched out on the bed, naked, for him. All for him. He reminded himself to thank the universe at some point. But, before that, he needed to thank you by making you come.

He shuffled back on the bed, moving your legs over his shoulders as he did so, and laid flat on his stomach before you. And got to work.

Bob practically devoured you.

You writhed underneath his grasp, one of his arms thrown across your stomach to keep you in place, as he licked and sucked at you. Your clit throbbed against his tongue as he flicked it from side to side over the sensitive spot. One of your hands flew to tangle in his hair as your legs trembled on either side of his head.

"Oh- oh, my god." You panted, chest heaving with laboured breaths. You looked down at him to see that his glasses had fogged up. You let out a slightly strangled laugh at him as he decided to slide a finger into you at that moment.

"Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasped and collapsed back onto the pillows.

Bob moaned into you and you let out a cry at the feeling of the vibrations running through you. His finger pumped in and out of you. Slowly at first before he increased the pace and then, once you were somehow even wetter, introduced a second finger.

And with two of his fingers inside of you, bending slightly to hit that sweet spot inside of you, along with his tongue making tight little circles on your clit, it didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower abdomen and then suddenly explode through you. Your body shook with pleasure, a tidal wave of profanity and primal noises escaping your mouth.

Bob gave you no time to rest though, surging up your body and kissing you again, giving you a taste of yourself which had you moaning into his mouth. When he pulled back again, you smiled. His glasses were still foggy.

"Can you even see through these?" You asked, reaching up to take them off of him. Wiping gently at the lenses with your bedsheets, you awaited an answer.

"Not really. I usually take them off for this kind of thing. But I forgot. In the excitement." He looked away from you, embarrassed. Funny how he could still be shy despite having just eaten you out like no one else had before.

You hummed quietly, taking his face in your hands to direct him to kiss you again after you'd placed his glasses down on your nightstand as you wrapped your legs around the backs of his and bucked your hips up towards him. "Are we going to do something about you now? Because I know you've been hard since we first kissed."

"I was hoping you hadn't noticed how quickly that happened." The low, raspy voice was back and you felt yourself melting a little on the inside.

"Difficult not to when we were practically dry humping in the middle of the kitchen." You trailed a finger down his torso over his, extremely sculpted, abs and stopped at the waistband of his boxers, hooking the tip of your finger inside.

He watched what you were doing. "I did get a little carried away there, granted."

You paused, asking him the silent question of approval to carry on, before slipping your hand into his underwear and grabbing him. His skin was soft and velvety under your palm and, before you even had the chance to start stroking him, his dick twitched in your hand. "Mmm... so sensitive, Bobby."

He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You reached for the box of condoms again, realising this probably wouldn't last very long if you did much else with your hand, and pulled one foil wrapper out. Quietly uttering his name to get him to open his eyes again, you pushed the condom against Bob's chest. "Put it on."

He didn't reply, didn't need to reply, just followed your instructions and did as he was told. Straightening up again into a kneeling position, he flailed around a little in an attempt to kick his underwear off. You tried not to laugh. When he succeeded, he ripped the packaging open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto himself in one smooth motion. And then he positioned himself over you, notching the tip of his length at your entrance.

He looked down at you for confirmation to go ahead.

You had one last teasing comment. "Your confidence in your size was warranted."

He huffed out a laugh. "I'd be insulted in your lack of confidence if I didn't love you so much."

Warmth bloomed through your chest. It had been implied several times throughout the night but hearing the words come out of his mouth meant so much more. He loved you.

You beamed up at him. "Glad to know that your love for me overrides any possible offence. I'll be using that to my advantage in future. Now please fuck me, I'm going crazy here."

Bob adored the way you were able to flip a conversation so easily. But he was glad you'd said it as he was beginning to experience his own temporary insanity being on the brink of having sex with you but not quite being there just yet.

He pushed into you slowly at first and then all at once, not being able to hold himself back. Once he'd bottomed out he paused for a moment, a choked groan leaving his throat. You whined at the stretch, glad for the previous orgasm prepping you for this.

"Just- just give me a second." Bob warned you, hanging his head as he took deep breaths.

Patiently, you waited.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to get a grip of himself as he eased out of you before slamming back in again. You gasped at the sensation. He set a pace, a steady yet almost brutal one. The loud sounds of sex filled the room and you hoped your neighbours were long asleep.

Bob buried his face in your neck, using his elbows to keep himself from smothering you. The noises he let out into your skin were heavenly and you were thankful that they weren't too muffled. You clawed as his back, making scratches that you'd have to apologise profusely for the next day.

"Fuck, harder please. Please harder." You didn't think it was possible for him to go any harder, the way he pounded into you already making the headboard shake, but you begged him to anyway. And somehow he found a way.

Your skin prickled with a burn where he slapped against you, one of his large hands sliding down to grip harshly at the flesh of your ass in order to pull you impossibly closer to him. He continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling. The pressure was steadily building in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with every thrust of Bob’s hips.

You clung onto his shoulders tightly as you plummeted off the edge, your thighs locking in on either side of him to lock him in place. Bob paused his movements for a second, feeling you clench around him as your throat formed a silent scream that came out as a gasp, and only started up again when you relaxed beneath him.

He pulled away from your neck to look down at you, finding a giddy smile on your face. He kissed you, all teeth and tongues, as he pumped into you a few more times before spilling into the condom. And then he collapsed on top of you.

The two of you stayed there for a couple of minutes, both catching your breath.

“I’m glad you had so many failed dates.” Bob whispered into the glistening skin of your chest.

You laughed quietly. “Me too.”

He eased himself up slowly, pulling out of you with a hiss, to dispose of the condom. “Do you think Phoenix purposely set you up on bad dates so you’d admit your feelings for me?”

You thought about it for a second. “Probably. She knows I’ve had a crush on you for forever. And I can’t think of any other good reason that she’d set me up with a sunset hater.”

Bob pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for you to get in, crawling in beside you. “Can’t believe that guy.”

“I know!” You laughed and turned on your side to look at him. “Wished she’d done it sooner then we could’ve been doing this for a lot longer.”

He joined in on your laughter. “Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time now to be doing this a lot more.”

You smiled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled back. “Me too.”

You scooted closer to each other, limbs tangling together into one big mess, softs words of love exchanged between you as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

A/N: this is the longest thing I think I’ve ever posted as a single thing… hope you enjoyed!

[cloversnstrawberries]

"eschatological hope" platonic!yandere!albert wesker & B.O.W!teen!reader [twoshot] [pt 1] ! !

masterlist !

description; You're one of many 'subjects' of a strange underground facility, one that sources their patients from survivor shelters outside of cities affected by outbreaks, specifically ones catered to children who are either orphaned or lost their parents amongst the chaos. One day, the emergency alarm begins blaring; the pre-recorded code said through the announcement system was unfamiliar.

You took it as a chance to run, to escape this hell-- it was the best opportunity you could ever ask for. Too bad it doesn't go you your way.

additional notes; hello! this definitely was just supposed to be a oneshot, but i lost hold on my self restraint and just want to really start off my resident evil writing with a bang . i really love this idea, and i'm a sucker for religious imagery and references, so :) but also, there's a scary lack of platonic!yan albert wesker... i plan to amend that in the coming weeks as i dive headfirst into this special interest on here. it's not going away. help.

also! reader is intended to be a younger teen, around ~14/15 in here, but can be interpreted as younger or older!

warnings; Child experimentation, body horror, betrayal, mentions of the apocalypse, canon-typical bloods, guts, gore, and violence, death of a child/mentioned deaths of children (not reader), child abuse, guns, general terror, non-consensual body modification (the scientists altered reader with a virus strain </3), not very yandere in this part, but oh boy will shit hit the fan in the second part, heavy religious symbolism and references (which will only get more obvious in the next part), slightly soft Albert Wesker, and there might be more that I missed! if so, please be sure to let me know!!

w/c; 7.7k (oh lord)

I was so close, you mournfully thought-- your cheek pressed to the cold tile, a guard's boot dug into the back of your skull as he put more and more pressure onto your cranium.

You were so close to make it out of here- out of here alive. You'd seen countless other... subjects, is all they saw you as; come and go from this strange, underground facility.

It always ended the same, whether or not they tried to escape.

You were a fool to think you were any different.

You'd made it the longest, survived the most tests. You were weak, muscles atrophied and dizzy from how small the portions of the meals they gave you were-- even if they could hardly be called that.

Scraps. They were just scraps, just enough to keep you alive; but just small enough to discourage this kind of stunt.

They keep you weak, keep you under their thumb until the time came to crush you down beneath it. You'd witnessed this many times-- you're not sure how many, no longer seeing a reason to keep track of the numbers.

Last you'd counted, it'd been at 38. 38 dead, either shot because they tried to escape, or...

Jamie had been a good friend to you, throughout this hell of an experience. In hushed whispers, they'd tell you stories of their life; they lived so differently from yourself, having hailed from sunny California.

You exchanged stories about the crazy weather phenomena you'd experienced, the snow storms that hit Arklay county mid-October a few years back, was traded for a story about how the highest temperature they'd suffered through was a whopping 131 degrees in the dead of summer.

But now, there was no Jamie.

There was only the thing left in their place, an awful amalgamation of... oh god, you can't even pick it apart. So many things-- eyes of a goat, five legs; two sprouting from their back like a dinosaurs spine, and one burst out of their shoulder.

Their face was near-unrecognizable, their voice no better off. You could hardly understand the words they were saying-- and they were words, you knew that much-- as they curled their hand, as crushed and mangled and deformed as it was, around your ankle.

You stood there, frozen with terror-- unknowing of what-- no, who, this was; until you caught sight of a chunk of long hair, once dyed a vibrant red atop light blonde hair-- all that was left was a faded red, their roots having grown in a good 2 or 3 inches, coming from what you assumed to the top of the thing's skull.

"Jamie?" You'd muttered, voice small and broken. You no longer tried to fight the hold on your leg, simply stared down in abject horror. You didn't notice the alarm begin to ring, nor the flashing red of the emergency lights-- the call of a code over the intercom, summoning all available personal to deal with a "Code 96".

It-- They, nodded; or it seemed like it, a jerk of what must've been their head. What came from the thing-- no, Jamie's mouth next, made your heart go from nearly beating out of your chest to terribly, deathly still, as you realize what they'd been trying to say the entire time.

"Kill... me..." they'd rasped, all semblance of their fiery but intelligent personality gone, replaced with a simple need to be put out of their misery.

You had no means to do so, but as you heard boots rushing down the echoing hallways-- making their way to the adolescent patient's barracks where they kept you all, you knew that they did.

You sunk to your knees, and you held your friend until the guards came in, one tasked with evacuating the other subjects; not wanting any to accidentally get hurt, because then that'd just be a waste of resources-- pulled you from your friend, who let out a horrifying sort of shriek.

Your hand outstretched, as they fumbled to reach out; unable to grab yours in time, you were pulled form the room just as rounds and rounds of gunshots sounded behind you. The door had barely been shut before it started, dents made in the dense metal scared you deeply-- but the bullets never did make it through the material.

Or because the experiments got to them first. The things they inject you all with, the tests and strange sets of tasks that hardly coincide with each other-- the things that somehow make nearly everyone turn into some sort of monster,

Some kept their mind, like Jamie had, and some didn’t.

You’d had an awful feeling that your time would come soon, when all the weird injections and ‘medicines’ and ‘treatments’ finally got to you.

In some ways, you’d accepted that. The fact that you’d probably never make it out, that you’d just be another lost subject. A waste of resources.

Not a living, breathing child that they stole away from a survivor’s shelter after an outbreak hit your city and you fled— and were able to do so, because you were all alone.

You had hopes and dreams— ones that would be splattered across the frigid tile floor any second now, along with your blood and brain matter.

Sometimes the guards were kind, they gave one shot right at the crown of your head— killing you instantly.

Sometimes they wanted to have a little ‘fun’ as they called it. Nobody but the guards found it fun, how they’d toy with the kids as they killed them— the scientists and ‘doctors’ found it wasteful of their time, a disgrace that they spent more time than necessary on terminating a subject.

The other kids, yourself included, found it horrifying. In the dark of night, when you all knew the cameras weren’t as heavily watched as before— the guards weren’t standing where they were supposed to in the patient barracks, you’d spread stories about how the staff were really the monsters.

You’d say that one has a second face hidden beneath her giant, fluffy blonde hair. The others kids said that one of the guards, a particularly cruel one which none of you knew the name of, secretly had a third eye— that’s why he never took off the guard gear, which most every other one did at some point, for one reason or another.

And as you lay here, feeling your nose shift as the pressure of the boot on your head increased, your face pressing harder and harder into the tile— you come to the dreadful realization that they’re going to have their ‘fun’ with you.

You hope they get in trouble with their superiors— really, you do. Because with the red emergency lights going, causing a terrible headache to form right behind your eyes— and the alarm blared, a pre-recorded voice calling over the intercom;

They shouldn’t be here, taking their sweet time with a patient that’d broken off from the rest. Honestly, you thought you could get away with it, in the chaos of them evacuating all patients; or, all patients worth saving.

Noticeably, the barracks that held the younger kids, all below 6, were not evacuated. If anything, they weren’t making any move to free the poor things— the door still locked, probably.

“You know,” The guard began to say, and you recognized that voice. Oh, oh God did you recognize it.

You thought he was nicest of the bunch— he always did his best to help you. In quiet, dark corners where the cameras wouldn’t reach, he’d give you a hug to hide the way he handed you some extra food.

Sometimes you’d smuggle it back to the barracks, to distribute among the most malnourished of you all. Sometimes he’d have you eat it right then and there, to make sure you got extra nutrients.

“So you can grow big and strong,” He’d say. That implied that’d you’d make it further than a year in this hellhole.

He’d even told you his name-- his first one, not his last one; the one he was supposed to only be known as, something he really wasn’t meant to do— he called you by your name as well, your real one, not the serial code you were assigned when you got here.

“Na-than—“ You stumbled out, letting out a cry of pain as he cruelly, oh-so-cruelly, put all of his weight on the foot currently crushing your skull.

He took it off within a few seconds, not wanting you to die so quickly. It’d be a mercy, considering what the other guards tend to do with the subjects they have their sick ‘fun’ with.

“Oh shut the hell up, you fucking brat.” He sounded so cruel. This— this couldn’t be Nathan, could it? No… they’re tricking you. He had to have been replaced, this was nothing like him—!

In a split second, you felt all encompassing relief; as he lifted his foot from the back of your head— but that relief was short-lived, as he crouched down beside you and wound his fingers through your hair,

He yanked your head up, and you made a valiant, but ultimately useless, attempt to stifle the yelp from the action.

When you did let that sound out— though, much smaller than it would’ve been had you not tried, he jostled your head around.

“I really thought you’d be the one to make it. The scientists worked really hard on your virus strain, you know that?” He said that as if it was your fault— your fault for what? You couldn’t really place your finger on.

Maybe… he’s blaming you because you’d given the scientists hope that they’d succeeded? If you had succeeded, would they have stopped the operations—

Or doubled the effort? You’re leaning more towards the latter.

“s’not my fault…” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut. You swear that they had to have replaced all the lights with brighter, more agitating ones. It hurt to be anywhere when the lights were fully on— the blaring emergency light, bright red and spinning constantly— added another layer of it.

“Open your fucking eyes when i’m talking to you!” He yelled— oh, you’d never heard Nathan yell like that. This has to be an imposter; it had to be that the higher-ups found out how kind he was being and terminated him, one way or another.

This couldn’t be him.

Against your own wishes, but along with your better judgement— you peeled open your eyes, lips wobbling as you were forced to come face to face with both the lights, and—

The imposter had taken off his helmet, letting you have a full view of his face.

It was Nathan. No doubt about it.

“I’d say I actually liked you,” He snarled, leaning closer— your back creaking and bending as he pulled your upper half up, but your lower one stayed relatively flat on the floor. “But that’d be a lie.” There was a cruel smirk playing on the corner of his lips, nothing like the kind ones he’d always give you,

You wrenched out a sob, at which he jostled you a little more to get you to “Shut up!”

By that point, you were in absolutely no position not to follow his wishes, your life quite literally placed in the palm of his hands.

He leaned closer again, and you couldn’t help but let the tears rush down your face at the sting of hurt from his words— which only worsened as he continued on.

“The bonuses that my higher-ups gave me to act all buddy-buddy with you were pretty nice, though. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Oh.

That… makes sense— why you two were never caught. Why he could get away with it, with stealing the food, with showing you his face, telling you his name, hugging you, comforting you—

It was all a ploy,

And for what? Maybe they thought that if the subjects had something to fight for, that they’d be more determined to make it out as a success?

That wasn’t true and you knew it— Jamie had things to fight for, but they still ended up with their mutated body looking more like swiss cheese by the end of it all.

Nathan-- no, the guard, as you refuse to associate this... monster with the man who had been so kind to you, even if, realistically, you knew they were one in the same.

That it was all just an act.

That doesn't mean you have to admit it to yourself, even if you accepted the fact in some capacity.

But... regardless, the guard, clicked his tongue, looking down upon you in a way that made you want to curl up and sob. "They thought you'd make it, you know? You were reacting so well to all the tests. The virus took hold..." You couldn't stop the confused little noise, clawing its way from the back of your throat.

Surprisingly, the guard didn't reprimand or hurt you for it. His smirk only grew to a sick, sick grin. Presumably because of the obvious show of confusion on your part,

"Oh? Did you not know? They were testing a new strain, I mean-- I'm surprised it took to you of all people!" The laugh that followed was mocking and devoid of any light. Any joy that wasn't founded in the sadistic nature of this guard. "It was modified from a strain made by a couple of traitors-- It was meant for the strongest. They just gave it to you to see where that threshold for 'strong' was!"

...Ah.

A virus? That's what this all was? You didn't know what they were putting into you all, none of the other patients had a clue about what was happening besides what was obvious. You really didn't know anything about it--

But that's it? They were putting viruses into all of you? That'd definitely explain why some ended up the way they did; some mindless, some wanting nothing but violence. The ones who didn't what such things always looked as if they did, like Jamie had.

You don't feel sick though, not how Jamie had been describing how they felt as they approached their death day, completely oblivious to what was happening-- a little more lethargic than usual, yes-- but not sick. You don't feel like your bones are about to snap, about to shift and move and rearrange themselves to turn you into a monster. You're sure you would've... felt it,

Before you could make another sound-- before the guard could continue his spiel, a new round of heavy gunfire broke out nearby-- a few turns down the long corridor, you think.

Then, screams-- so many, and.. and bones cracking, flesh ripping; it didn't sound like anyone was getting shot.

It sounded like their heads were being twisted and ripped from their neck. You witnessed that once, with a particularly violent, now-terminated, subject. That's how you recognized the awful sound as the flesh of the neck tried to follow the way their head was being turned, only to be ripped-- sinew snapping as their bodies were pushed pass the limits of human capabilties.

The alarms-- no one knew what it was about, the code they were putting through the intercoms wasn't one you recognized. It wasn't one any of you recognized-- the guards seemed... panicked, for once. Not for you all, not at all; but because they had to evacuate everyone before they could save themselves.

Something told you that this wasn't a regular sort of rampage, put on by a grotesque mimicry of one of your fellow captives.

One second, the guards fingers were twisted in your hair-- yanking you, making your neck strain painfully as he forced you to look him in the face,

And the next, your hair was released and your head lolled forward; smacking your forehead right against the tile, not enough time to brace yourself at all. You heard the guard yell out a string of curses, before he stumbled-- and you mean stumbled, up; all scary calm and malice gone.

Replaced by a primal fear and terror that you know all too well. It was a little funny, seeing the primary force behind that sort of emotion experiencing it firsthand for once.

You don't see a point in picking yourself up at first, expecting you end to be swift-- for whatever was causing the apparent massacre to come charging at you, uncaring as it twisted your neck violently; just as you're sure it'd done to all the guards a few turns ahead.

But it... a few moments pass by, and nothing of the sort happens. You don't hear anything coming for you-- no horrifying creature shambling toward you on all fours, or a mass of disgusting, pulsing and gory flesh sliding across the tile to attack you.

All you hear are calm, methodical steps coming your way. A scientist, maybe-- all the guards seemed to be in a state of panic, if that one had left you in such a rush; if they leave you alone, if they don't continue their 'fun', or pull you along to continue at another time,

Then you know something is terribly, awfully wrong.

You listened carefully to the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes against the tile floor, coming closer and closer. The scientists weren't as outwardly-cruel as the guards, didn't rough you and the others kid up like they did...

But that's not to say that they cared for you, for any of you. If what the guard said was true, that you had gotten the furthest with their experiments-- then maybe the scientist would pick you up and drag you back.

Or kill you, and study your corpse to see what made your body welcome whatever virus they'd forced onto you.

At that, you made an effort to rise from your spot on the ground. Your elbows gave out the first few times you tried, adrenaline still running through your system-- but you were shaken up, and it was always harder to get up from the floor than it was from a chair or bed.

You were so tired, frail and weak-- but still better off than most. You were one of the few that actually had a chance, and you couldn't just give that up. Even if there was nothing to fight for really, you still had to get out. You don't know why-- maybe it's just in the human nature to want to continue on despite it all.

To survive anything, no real reason behind it. Simply a primal part of you, left over from centuries past; one that not even the most disciplined could stamp down, you think.

When you did get purchase, able to push yourself up to sit on your folded legs-- biting the inside of your cheek to smother the strange sort of chirp that desperately wished to escape you.

That'd been happening recently-- producing strange noises like that of a bird, especially when in distress. You'd been able to cover them up with a cough, or stifle them either mostly or completely, but the more scared you were; the harder it became to hide them.

You managed, though-- the fear of being noticed by whoever those eerily calm, unbothered steps that was a stark contrast to the bloodbath they were certainly just waltzing right through.

One sitting, you did your best to rise from the position-- unable to get to enough leverage to rise just as you were without collapsing to the ground, you got one leg out from under yourself-- though not without great difficulty.

Just as you were about to heft yourself up into a kneeling position, sure that you'd be able to stand from there-- you heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop; you hadn't noticed how close they were until they went silent.

Slowly, you raised your head. The dread and barely contained panic keeping you from focusing on the throbbing, world-ending headache that kicked up a notch as you looked straight on at the lights--

In front of you, down near the hallway; but not nearly far enough for your own liking, was a man you'd never seen before. Dressed in all black, he looked more like an FBI or undercover agent you'd see in a movie than anything.

Was he here to save you? You dazedly thought, but as you looked into the mans face-- his eyes hidden by simple black sunglasses, something told you that you had to run.

This man wasn't like the others-- his presence felt suffocating, like his existence alone could choke the life out from you.

Despite the headache, the aches and pain-- and the way that, deep down, you knew that you could never outrun this man... or whatever he was; that even if you were perfectly healthy, in the best shape possible, you never stood a chance, you still tried to run.

You stood abruptly, the pressure in your head becoming almost unbearable as black clouded your vision-- as disoriented and dizzy as you were, you're surprised you didn't fall right to the floor like a discarded ragdoll upon standing.

When your vision finally cleared, you met the mans gaze, and really got a look at him. The light casted behind him made him look like he had a halo-- a halo of red, like a sun delivering sailors an ill omen, bounced off of his perfectly gelled blond hair. His face was sharp, and he looked like he was in better shape than some of the guards here.

Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be wearing tactical gear-- and when you looked a little longer, realized that the strange spots of... something, wasn't a bad dye job of the fabric.

It was blood, mostly centralized to his black leather gloves, coagulated but still beading up-- one big glob fell to the floor, as the man simply stood there. Watching, waiting-- like a cat would to a mouse, staring it down and waiting for it to turn its back.

Cat's were stealth predators, more focused catching their prey off-guard rather than over powering it with sheer brute force. You're sure the man could do that-- and the reality of it all came crashing down.

He must be the one who killed the guards, the one that caused the one tormenting you to run for the hills like his life depended on it,

because it did, and yours did too.

He said nothing, as he stood there. He tilted his head, his face unreadable-- the glasses weren't helping. Slowly, as steadily as you could manage, you took a few steps back.

And then a few more, not daring to turn around until the very last minute. When he took a step forward, you turned and bolted down the hall.

You don't know where the exit is-- or, really the elevator. Or stairs-- anything to get you out from this underground hell. You stumbled as you ran, twisting and turning through the corridors; your lungs burning, head pounding and body aching--

But you never stopped running, and you wouldn't until you were safe, or you simply keeled over right then and there. You wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop this fruitless fight until your very heart gave out--

Or you joined the number of casualties, head twisted off. You'd yet to see any bodies, any blood or gore-- or anyone else. Most of them were in the other side of the building, and you dashed toward the section with the labs and testing rooms.

There, you think you could find a weapon, or at the very least a weapon to brandish. A weapon that would do nothing, and you were well aware it would do nothing.

The man that had stood before you, the one that set off your fight-or-flight instincts like never before, couldn't have been human. He just couldn't have been. If he had been the ones to cause those terrible noises of sinew snapping and viscera splashing on the sterile, once white walls...

Then that was that, he wasn't human. You don't know what exactly he'd be, and you don't want to find out.

For one foolish, silly second-- you assumed you'd shook him off your proverbial tail. He hadn't chased after you, and even if you were malnourished and frail, you still could run fast in necessary. Could push yourself if it meant a chance for freedom, to see the sun again-- even if it'd be the last time.

it'd hurt, you think. The other patients would complain that the barracks lighting was becoming too dim, but to you-- it was always just bit too bright. What might've been bearable the day before, became uncomfortably bright the next. Not blinding like the corridor's lights were, though. And for that, you'd been thankful.

You weren't familiar with this facility-- you were aiming for the labs, but somehow wound up in going in a circle; now facing the other way, close to where you'd started.

Bodies-- all over the ground, mostly guards... a few scientists, their white coats weren't all stained-- some were a stark white against the viscera covering the hallway.

Ahead of you, the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes called your attention, and at the end of the hallway, stood the man.

It was as if he knew you'd wind up back here, like he knew how inexperienced you were in the layout of this place-- like he knew the layout himself. A smirk played at his lips, showcasing rather sharp canines. The kind that could easily tear flesh from bone with no issue.

Maybe... he was an angel of death, you surmised. It fit, it really did-- maybe that's why he made it through the hail of bullets the slain guards around you had sent his way. How he'd been able to kill them so quickly, without so much as a scratch on his person.

The need to run didn't fade, if anything it got worse-- maybe because you knew, wholly and entirely, that you can't run. Not really. If he wanted you dead, then it'd be so. He'd taken down so many trained guards, a measly, terrified child wouldn't be a problem at all.

All you can think of that could stop him, was morals. You don't think he has those-- with the sight surrounding you.

This time, when he stepped forward, you didn't make any move to take a step back. It was useless. this was all so useless. Why you? Why did it have to be you? The shelter hadn't been ideal, but it was better than this.

You sunk to the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down-- trying to look away from the still-going emergency lights, the too-bright fluorescents that hung above were still on. The combination of the two made it feel like someone was tenderizing your brain with a sledgehammer constantly.

The clicks of his shoes aren't as sharp sometimes, when he steps in the puddles of blood-- they get closer, and closer... until he stands before you, only his shoes and part of his legs were visible to you.

You kept your head down, not wishing to look at your end. You want to die under the illusion that you ever had any choice in your life. That you chose your own end, and it was not brought upon you by this... angel of death.

And as you sat there, expecting the pain-- or simply a pinch before your entire world went black; shivering from both fear and the cold of the hallway, bile rising in your throat and your headache refusing to back down even a smidge; you imagine a world were you got to live a little longer.

Because, in your mind, you died the moment you entered this facility; it was a death sentence, and you should've been able to come to terms with that. It was stupid, you felt stupid for thinking you were any different to countless other kids that'd died in these halls-- some going down with a fight, others begging for their end;

"Look at me." A deep, almost... British, but not quite-- voice spoke, clear and concise. The man sounded... oddly human. You'd expected maybe a reverb of sorts, or the voice to crawl into the crevices of your brain and dig their claws in...

He was still scary, his voice sending a flash of terror through your body-- but in a way no different than the scientists were. It was a very human type of fear that his voice incited, the fear of somebody in a position of power above you.

Oh, how badly you wished to stay staring at the ground-- it was the lights, that was the problem. The man scared you, but you knew you should obey him. Maybe he'd give you a chance then.

Oddly enough, he seemed quite... patient, all things considered. he stood there for maybe a minute or so, before repeating himself. In the same tone, the same exact cadence and words.

"Look at me." He said, and something inexplicable-- something that felt rooted in your very soul, tugged at your mind. Telling you that he wouldn't be so kind if you made him ask again.

And you do, trying to keep your eyes open despite the pain that followed. Nausea rolled through you, both from the smell of blood and flesh-- it was sharp, much more noticeable then you think it should be; as if it's being held right in front of your nose-- and from how the headache worsened.

The smirk he had when he'd first spotted you had dropped, his face now a cold mask of... something. He really did look like an angel-- but the sorts found in older religious texts. neither good nor bad, simply carrying out God's will, who in of Themselves, was a contradiction.

The man reached out, and you couldn't help but jerk your head back-- he said nothing of it. In fact, you could've sworn the corners of his lips were giving way to a little smile, not just a smirk-- but it was gone before you could really register it;

But, he continued to reach out, and you stayed stock still, not wanting to test his patience again. You were already on thin ice, probably. For running from him, for making him repeat himself-- maybe he'd give you mercy, though? Because you were so young?

You weren't exactly a child, but you weren't an adult. Maybe... maybe he'd leave you be. He didn't seem to be hurting you, and when he curled his hand around your chin to push your head up just a bit more-- he was... gentle with it. In a way you hadn't experienced in so, so long from any adult.

Even Nathan hadn't been entirely soft with his movements, too used to being rough with it all; not knowing his strength, or the fragility of a subject who'd been here as long as you had.

You're surprised you were still able to run as much as you did.

The man hummed, turning your head just a tad to the left-- then gently guiding it to turn the other way. Like he was a museum curator appraising a priceless artifact.

When he turned your head to face him straight-on, you winced; the headache reaching an all time high, making you feel as if you were going to pass out form the pain at any given moment.

"Does the light bother you?" He asked, and you tried to nod-- but his grip, as gentle as it was, was all too firm. Not enough slack to complete the gesture. "Use your words." He said next, no irritation obvious in his tone.

But still, it set you on edge. How calm he was. People weren't calm like that-- but maybe angels were. That's what he had to be. He couldn't be human... he just couldn't be.

But... why would he ask that? It's not like the man cared for your well-being, right? it doesn't seem so, the question asked with an almost clinical sort of edge. Like the scientists had when they asked if there were any major concerns with your health, if you'd felt any negative side effects.

Not out of care for your person, but care for what you represented; a subject, something to test on to try and further whatever agenda or project they're assigned to.

"...Yes sir." You croaked out, shaking-- tacking on the honorific should help, yeah? The scientists always made you refer to them as such-- Sir or Ma'am, not accepting anything else. Not accepting no personal address either; that's how you get locked up in solitary for a few hours, to 'learn your lesson about disrespect'.

You were better at it than most, only being placed in solitary twice for the reason of 'disrespecting the scientists' with the lack of it.

The chuckle that followed terrified you, making your entire body lock up-- muscles pulled taut, ready to snap. Spine straight, much like a rabbit ready to bolt;

"Good to know you have manners. That'll make things easier." Your anxiety only worsened-- make what easier? What was he going to do, and how hell was your manners going the help that process?

Finally, he released your chin-- and not a moment too soon. You slumped, not from relief, but from the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing you after everything. Head lolling forward to try and avoid the bright light, you don't know how you're still even vaguely upright-- hell, how you're even still awake. You probably burned off more calories than you've collectively taken in since arriving here.

The world was spinning around you, and that notified you that you consciousness was probably something very, very short-lived. You're sure that, if you do pass out before he does whatever he does; you won't wake up again.

He says something, but the world if muffled around you-- blood rushing in your ears, making it sound like everything was underwater. You came to when he snapped his fingers in your face, it was a warning just as much as it was call for your attention.

You looked up-- or made the move to, only for him to place his hand atop your head, and gently direct you to keep your gaze down. "You'll damage your eyesight. Close them, if that helps any."

He framed it like he was offering it, offering advice-- you shut your eyes, seeing it as what it was. You had no choice in it. Whatever use he wanted you for, he didn't want your vision to be damaged for it.

You don't think the lights would damage your sight-- more just give a pounding migraine, but you do as he says regardless; he could very well just crush your skull in his hand, right then and there-- if he took down so many guards as you think he had.

For once, some higher being smiled upon you; and he moved his hand from your head, and while he was still as close as before, it was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders, not to have him making any direct contact anymore.

"I won't repeat myself again," He started off with, and you tried to show that you were listening-- he stayed quiet afterward, and you realized with a jolt, what he wanted. As soon as you realized, you aid-- almost robotically, "I understand, sir."

A few seconds passed, a heavy weight forming in your heart-- was that not what he wanted? You were tempted to open your eyes to try and see if you could get a read on his face, figure out what he was thinking; if he was about to kill you for some perceived slight.

...But would an angel do that? Even one who killed all these people? If you were still alive, then maybe he was ordered not to kill you. Or, more realistically, not specifically ordered to kill you.

Even if he wasn't an angel of death, if he was just some terrifying super-human or something of the like, he has to work under someone; right? He also said he's got a use for you.

You just hope that you picked up on the implications that he needed you alive for that use.

"Good." The man-- Angel?-- replied, as you hear fabric shifting-- the man moving, whether that be shifting on his feet or reaching into a pocket, you have no idea. "What's your serial code?"

"...I don't know it, sir." You shook-- you really didn't. Well, you didn't remember it off the top of your head, so maybe, if you explained yourself, he'd be more kind... "But if I hear it, then I'll know it's mine."

That can't be of much help. You might've just doomed yourself even worse, tacking on something like that- did he think you were wasting his time? Were you why he'd come here in the first place? That can't be it, you were never that important--

"Would you happen to be Subject 082202?" He asked-- and you recognized the number. Was he really after you? That's... that could go either one way or the either. Hope bloomed in your chest, before smothered by absolute despair.

What did he want with you?

You tried to respond, you really did-- but your voice failed you, wobbling and tried not to cry. You nodded, hoping he'd give you some leniency with it.

Surprisingly, he let it go. Didn't even comment on it-- when he spoke next, he sounded so... not happy, but--

Victorious, you think it'd be. Smug would be your next choice, the emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. It was barely there, but without anything else to witness or analyze-- you were stuck with trying to dissect his tone.

"Good, that's good." You heard him shift again-- the sound his shoes made against the tile suggested that he'd crouched down, and and his heavy leather coat shifted, but in what way you couldn't be sure--

More noises, ones that were meant to be quiet-- you weren't supposed to be able to pick on them, but you could. Maybe it was the fear of it all.

Then, his hand was back on your chin. Reflexively, you flinched; but he didn't reprimand you, if anything, his tone suggested that he... cared,

Maybe not for you-- probably for whatever you could do for him, but it was care regardless, and he told you "Stay still."

You did, and felt something place onto your face-- it felt like metal, warmed by a human's natural heat; it felt like a pair of glasses, the arms tucked above your ears, the metal bridge of it resting against your nose--

"Open your eyes, tell me if it's any better." The man said with a firmness that reminded you of the scientists-- or the guards. A strange mix between the two; maybe more like a cop, if you think about it hard enough. A sense of authority, firm but not demanding.

You do so-- the headache is still there, it'd gotten better when your eyes were closed. You find that, when you open your eyes, the world is a little dimmer; the headache doesn't spike as you'd expected due to it.

As you look up at the man, you realize that he doesn't have sunglasses on now-- giving you full view of his...

Yeah. The confirms it; he is absolutely not human. His eyes looked like a snakes, maybe more like a dragons; red with yellow around his slitted pupils-- instead of scaring you as it absolutely should,

It.. comforted you. Against your will, mind you-- a little bit of tension easing out of your form at the sight of them. You don't know why. It should terrify you, it should make you want to run for the hills, like he had when he first showed up--

With his eyes no longer obscured, and your headache a little dimmer, you think that you'd have a better chance at reading the emotions on his face--

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the present-- to his question he'd had with his earlier command. You try not to test your luck, now able to give out a short, soft "Yes sir."

His hand released your chin again, and with all the energy left in you-- you tried your best not to have your head fall forward from exhaustion, from the loss of the support of his hand. he huffed, shifting a bit-- he was crouching, but no longer leaning in close, leaving you with a little bit of a personal bubble.

A sort of privilege you haven't been afforded in a long, long while. Nobody crowding in your space-- nobody poking and prodding. Just letting you exist. Simply letting you sit there, without anyone breathing down your neck-- unrestrained, able to leave (if you weren't so banged up-- and honest-to-god terrified of the man, but that's neither here nor there) if desired.

You notice now, that there is a suitcase set down by his side-- looking rather innocent. A simple brown leather one, no obvious tells of what could be inside. It looked like one of the head scientists own bag, one you always saw him carrying around. Not trusting to leave it in one place without him present, you'd guessed.

"You're the subject for the Ammit Strain, aren't you?" He asked-- he seemed to already be sure of himself, and it left you confused as to why he's asking you. Because you don't have a solid answer for him-- and that shouldn't have been expected of you to have one.

"Uhm... I-I'm not sure. I don't... know what that is." You half expect his calm, strangely patient, demeanor to change in the blink of an eye-- for his hand to shoot out and grab your neck, and twist until your world went dark. It was irrational (probably), because he said he needs you for something. Even if you don't know what it is, you're pretty sure he needs you alive for it--

it's still up in the air, though. So you don't rely on that assumption for comfort too much.

Instead of that, instead of any violent outburst or sudden shift in his approach-- he seemed to... smile a little at your response. it was small, barely noticeable unless you'd been staring at him for god knows how long--

and, oh boy, have you been staring at him. analyzing him, trying to make sense of it all. as you do, when you're stuck in a strange and scary situation such as this.

"That's alright." He leaned forward, hang outstretched-- it landed on your shoulder, in a strange... friendly sort of gesture. Like a teacher would do as they praise you for an A+ on an assignment. "I know you are."

Then why did you ask? a bold part of you made you want to say-- one you thought had been stomped down a long time ago. During your second stay in solitary, where they kept you in for 6 hours rather than the measly 45 minutes you'd been in there the first go-around.

You kept quiet, hoping that he'd give a bit of an explanation as to-- anything. But you know he probably won't, not without prompting; even then, he might be more inclined to telling you to shut up or dancing around the question then give a truthful answer-- or one at all, for that matter.

He didn't do anything of the sort, the conversation going dead as he stood-- He grabbed the briefcase from beside him, but didn't make any move to turn around.

As he looked down at you, you realized he probably wanted you to stand as well. Torn between telling him that you aren't sure you could do so, and staying quiet as to try and minimize any possible anger-- you simply sat there, unmoving. Terrified, feeling like you'd found yourself right in a damned-if-i-do, damned-if-i-don't sort of situation.

A few moments later, he seemed to realize what your silence, what your immobility signified. He walked around you, standing behind you-- and gave no warning as he leaned down and put his hands under your armpits-- pulling you that way, before maneuvering you in such a way where he could pick you up into a princess carry from there.

Out of pure reflex, you threw your arms above his shoulders-- scared of tumbling over and out of his hold. By the time you realize what you'd done, you were too scared-stiff you amend it.

He... didn't seem to mind it much, though.

The hand held underneath your knee carried the briefcase, the handle digging into your thin grey sweatpants just a tad-- not too uncomfortable, but not ideal. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though.

As he began to walk, he suddenly asked "What's your name?"

Despite the fear, a slip in your judgement made you let out a little "huh?"

He huffed, his smile growing wider for just a second-- starting to resemble an actual one, before reverting back to the small, almost non-existent smirk he'd had before. "Your name. None of the documents said it, only referred to you as your serial number or the strain."

"Oh." This was so confusing-- he kept walking, letting you two lapse into silence; he wasn't rushing your answer, quite the opposite. He seemed to be letting you... take your time, even if it was such a simple and easy request.

Then, quietly, you said it. Almost as if you were afraid that the scientists or guards would hear, and punish you for it-- it was their way of isolating you from the outside world, telling you to forget who you were before you'd come here.

That you had no other name, nothing else to be called, besides Subject 082202.

The man heard you, though. He hummed in acknowledgement, and in a moment of reckless, almost moronic, bravery-- you ventured to ask,

"What's your name?"

Almost immediately, he answered with "Albert Wesker, but you'd do good not to use it." The name... was familiar, set off even more alarm bells than the man had before you learned of his name.

"...So just keep calling you sir?" What were you doing? Why were you doing this? How stupid were you, to push him like this--

"That's what was implied, isn't it?" He responded, the little edge painting his tone let you know that his patience must've been running thin. You shut up, smothering what you'd wanted to say--I was just making sure.

Something like that would definitely be categorized as disrespect-- to a normal person, and absolutely to the scientists-- which you'd defaulted to treating him as.

As he carried you, exhaustion having taken its toll on you-- your eyes slid shut, head falling forward and resting against his shoulder. Within a few seconds, you were out like a light.

[melobin]

riize making YOU lose nnn?!

also can i be 🎀 anon?, i'm a big fan 😭

you’re so cute 🤕 of course you can!!! 💕

shotaro doesn’t care for it at all, will be a little entertained that you’re trying to do it but knows you’ll give in soon enough. and you do, doesn’t take more than a few days before you’re itching to have his hands on you. doesn’t tease you much, just laughs at you a little, telling you that you should’ve lasted longer than you did but is more than happy to fuck you when you want.

eunseok lets you do it just to see how long you can last. knows you can’t go long without having his cock inside of you so he just sits patiently and waits. he has a lot of self control and restraint, doesn’t care for the event himself so he’s happy to go into the shower and jerk off when he needs to. always comes out with a smile on his face and you just know what he’s been doing in there, doesn’t take more than a week for you to be jumping him and begging for him to fuck too.

sungchan forgets you’re taking part, like genuinely forgets. wonders why you’re denying his advances one day when usually you’re ready to jump his bones the moment he shows interest in wanting to fuck you. it doesn’t last long, at all actually. the moment he’s pressing kisses to your neck and trailing his fingers up your inner thigh you’re folding for him and telling him he can take you.

wonbin gets needy really easily, the moment you tell him you’re taking part he’s convinced for a little while that he can do it too. he can’t. barely lasts a day, if that. he gets hard easily, the littlest thing sets him off. even kissing you can set him off, so when you end up making out whilst sat on his lap, takes all of five seconds for him to start hardening under you. soon enough he’s whining into your neck begging if he can fuck you because he misses having your pretty don’t wrapped around him.

seunghan agrees to do it with you as a joke, just wants to play along and see how long you can last for. his self control is quite high and he’s happy to sit and wait for you to come crawling to him, begging for him to just fuck you because you need him so bad. he gives you a week max, would be surprised if you lasted longer than that but he makes sure you know he’ll be waiting with open arms for when you’re over to.

sohee genuinely believes you both can do it, the moment you mention it to him he’s all for it. claiming a month without sex would be easy for him. it wasn’t. at all. he overestimated his self restraint when it comes to you and wanting to fuck. he caved before you did and found himself doing everything he could to try and get you to cave. in the end all it took was hearing him moan your name in the shower as he fucked his fist for you to fold and end up following him in there and getting on your knees.

anton whines as soon as you tell him, tries to talk you out of it because he knows he can’t last without having you wrapped around him. your hands and your mouth are one thing but they don’t compare to how your pussy feels around him. he’s also quite obsessed with eating you out and knows he cannot go a month without doing it, will resort to begging into your neck, whining about needing to taste you before he goes insane. that’s what sets you off.

[vorfreudevortex]

a portrait of us - twelve

a nanami x reader smau

masterlist

notes: 4.5k words. y'all i meant for this to be like 800 words... idk what happened. it's literally just smut omg. also it's my first time writing smut so i'm sorry in advance for the bad writing LMAO

warnings: mdni, smut, passionate, unprotected sex, praise, a little bit of size kink, premature ejaculation, creampie, slight breeding kink, oral, fingering, tiny bit of squirting, a little overstimulation, cervix fucking, a little begging, drinking, alcohol, missionary, idk i think that's it i'm so sorry lmao

it had been hours.

you and kento lay on the hotel bed, still in your nice clothes, facing each other. between you, a nearly empty, exquisitely priced bottle of sake rested in a bucket of ice on a wooden tray.

“you should save that for something special," kento had advised when you first retrieved it from the minibar.

“and being here with you isn’t special enough?” you replied with a smile, fumbling for an ochoko.

time had become irrelevant, lost in the warmth of laughter and conversation. you couldn’t tell if your cheeks were flushed from the sake or the intimacy of the moment. you shared stories of life since you left—your adopted cat, your aging parents, college friends. kento mirrored your openness, speaking of his dreadful finance job, his affection for his kohai that wasn’t actually his kohai, and satoru's antics in meetings.

his gaze remained fixed on you, as did his hands—one clasping an empty ochoko, the other tenderly caressing yours. his white shirt, now creased and unbuttoned, spoke of the night’s passage. your dress lay haphazardly over the bed, riding up to expose a sliver of thigh. you didn’t notice kento's struggle to resist staring, his self-control like a painter’s careful restraint, trying not to let desire bleed out.

"satoru recently reminded me of when he caught us in your room,” you giggled, pouring the last of the sake into two cups. the night felt like an effortless continuation of your high school days, with barely a pause in the conversation.

“oh god, i remember. i don’t think i stopped blushing for three days,” kento smiled before downing the sake with you. “what was that awful phrase he used… swapping spit?”

“why was it so hard for everyone to believe we weren’t together?” you laughed. “it couldn’t have been the kissing.”

“or my confessions to yu.”

“or mine to shoko.”

“or the way i couldn’t look at you without blushing.”

“or us always disappearing at the same time.”

he met your gaze with a grin. “we were just kids back then.”

you nodded, returning his smile. “just foolish, really.”

he chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “we should probably get some sleep.”

“i agree, i have a meeting tomorrow,” you sighed. “but i'm not tired at all.”

“me neither,” he admitted. "i'd be happy to take you to your meeting, if you’d like.”

“i'd love that,” you blushed, eager to spend more time with him. “i should change out of this dress.”

kento reluctantly let go of your hand as you disappeared into the bathroom. he rose from the bed to tidy up, placing the empty sake bottle and bucket on the desk beside his harness and cleaver. he then looked out the large window, taking in the shimmering tokyo lights.

“kento?”

your voice pulled him from his thoughts. he turned to see you outside the bathroom, wearing a shy smile.

“my zipper is stuck… could you help me?”

“of course,” he replied.

in the bathroom, kento gently swept your hair over your shoulder, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck. your eyes fluttered at the warmth of his breath on your skin. he grasped the zipper, humming after a few unsuccessful tugs.

“you might have to sleep in this dress, darling,” he teased.

“i hope not,” you grinned. “it’s not the most comfortable.”

finally, the zipper gave way, though kento secretly wished the moment could last a little longer.

“there,” he whispered. a finger flitted over the knots of your spine as he slowly pulled downwards, landing just above your tailbone. kento's breathe hitched, noticing the tiniest bit of the hem of your panties peeking out, black and lacy. 

“all finished,” he said hoarsely with one hand on your waist and the other still on the zipper, unable to let go. 

“thank you,” you whispered.

you met his eyes in the mirror. kento swore he’d never met anyone so beautiful. flushed cheeks, delicate hands at your chest to hold up your dress, one sleeve hanging loosely by your elbow while to other was threatening to.

you were about to step away when his hand tightened its grip on your waist and the other glide up your spine, sending shivers through your body before coming to a stop on your bare shoulder. dipping his head, he placed a feathered kiss where your neck and spine met.

“beautiful,” he murmured, your eyes fluttered closed.

calloused fingers danced down your arm, laboring your breathing as another velvety was placed on your shoulder. more kisses trailed up the side of your neck, reaching your ear and sending waves of goosebumps over you.

“i missed you,” he breathed.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you turned around and pressed into him, clutching his shirt with one hand while the other settled on the back of his head, feverishly kissing him. teeth clicked together as you delved in messily, kento groaning as he aimlessly grasped at your dress and hips.

“i missed you more,” you pulled away for just a moment.

kento backed you against the marble counter and lifted you by the back of your thighs to sit you on top. he only pulled away to placed hot, wet kisses down your neck and jaw. his brain and cock stuttered hearing you whimper in response and tugged you closer, making you widen your legs around him as your pelvis met his.

“forgive me,” he panted before lunging back into your lips and sucking your tongue.

needy hands grabbed at his shirt, both of you gasping into each others mouths as if you’d been starved of each other. you were starved of each other. kento involuntarily whined as he ground into your core.

you desperately pulled at the buttons of his shirt while his hands ventured up your thighs until they reached the tantalizing lace of your panties. fingers found their way between your legs, pressing against your clothed clit, eliciting a shuddered whine from you, finally satiating that burning need for friction. teeth found their way to kento's neck, biting and skimming mindlessly against his hot skin.

kento's brain completely malfunctioned upon feeling that you’d completely soaked through your panties, making his hard length throb in need. noticing his hesitation, you lifted your head, panting.

he took in the sight in front of him. hands buried underneath layers of your dress, one on your hip and the other against your heat. his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his tight chest and abs, your dress still hanging loosely from your arms, revealing hints of a matching black lingerie set.

your cheeks flushed as kento's blown out pupils focused on the dip of your heaving sternum. fingers ran up and through his hair as he planted a wet kiss on the peak of your collarbone.

sucking on your collarbone, he pinched your throbbing bud through the lace, earning him tensing thighs and a soft whimper from you.

“ken, please…” you breathed.

you did not have to tell him twice.

he effortlessly carried you into the bedroom, laying you gently on the fluffy white sheets. frantically, you tugged the shirt off his shoulders while he slid your dress down and discarded it on the floor.

he knelt over you, stopping to take in your sultry appearance while hands sketched over your curves. your hair splayed over the pillow and eyes wide with need, the black lingerie protected the parts of you that kento needed most. realizing this was the first he'd seen you this vulnerable, you draped an arm over your chest to shyly protect yourself from his boring gaze.

“don’t,” he breathed, softly grabbing your arm. “i want to see you, need to see you.”

“wait,” you whispered, he let go of you immediately.

reaching up, you brushed over his chest, specifically the faint scars littered on it. his eyes fluttered down to meet your silken touches. they roamed to his shoulder, running over a harsh, burning red divot, suspiciously a similar size of a harness that was placed across the room.

“ken, are these all…?” your eyes drifted down to a large gash in his side that had only recently begun to heal.

“they don’t hurt,” he shushed you. “you have them as well, darling.”

calloused fingers skimmed lovingly over a large scar on your rib cage, one that haunted you as it was from that day from a decade ago. his other hand felt over a small one on your arm. the marks were years healed, almost blending into the skin around them.

“it’s not the same.”

“i know, it’s alright. don’t worry about them,” leaning down to press tender, reassuring kisses in the crook of your neck. you quickly forgot about the matter and your hand came up to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

“no,” kento said, grabbing your hand. you looked at him with big, nervous eyes.

“oh… i-i'm sorry, i-”

“-i don’t want you to do anything, i want you to relax.”

you blinked in confusion. “what?”

“i've dreamed about this for so long,” he murmured, bringing your hand to the bed beside your head. “so please… just let me take care of you.”

“but…” your eyes fluttered shut as his lips found your neck again and his hand traveled up and down your thighs.

“shh, darling. just lay there and look pretty for me. let me take care of you, make you feel good.” a startled whimper escaped your throat as kento pinched your nipple through the thin material and his other hand squeezed the fat of your hips.

“can you do that for me, love?”

“yes, ken,” you moaned, all your thoughts vanishing. “a-anything you want.”

he pressed his mouth to yours in response. kento's length strained painfully against his trousers, but he didn’t care. he had waited ten long years for this, dreaming about everything he wanted to do to you. every kiss, every touch. his body buzzed with nerves but he wasn’t going to let them get in the way of treating you exactly the way you deserved while he still could.

worn hands reached under you, forcing your back to arch and chests brush against each other as he unclasped your bra. lips found your hardened nipple as his fingers twirled and pulled on the other, eliciting saccharine moans from your throat, hands running through his silky blonde hair. a particularly harsh tug sent burning pleasure through you and hips bucked.

finally, he trailed down and started to rub faint circles on your clit while his tongue attacked your other breast.

“kento, please,” you whined, grinding your hips further into his hand and earning a hum from him.

“patience,” he smiled, but he was already pulling the lace over your aching cunt to the side.

calloused fingers swirled up the slick pooling at your entrance while hot kisses painted your jaw. he groaned at the contact, you were already panting.

“so wet for me already,” he whispered in your ear, leaving you clenching at nothing. “god, you’re perfect.”

he slid a finger easily inside your pussy, both of you moaning while your grip in his hair tightened. the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear as he pumped into you went straight to your dripping pussy. when he finally added a second finger, you hoarsely whined, your walls clenching so tight around his thick fingers that it caused his own cock to twitch with need. a blush spread over your face and chest as you realized you were already close to your orgasm from only a few minutes of stimulation.

“fuck- ken,” you heaved, clamping your eyes shut as you felt the pressure in your abdomen continue to build. "i-i'm sorry, i'm close- hah.”

“i know, darling,” he nipped at your ear and curled his fingers up into your gummy walls. “don’t be sorry. just cum for me, yeah?”

“y-yeah,” your fingers dug into his shoulder as the pressure threatened to peak. he gently grabbed your jaw and tilted your face up toward his.

“look at me, love. i want to see you when you make a mess on my fingers.”

your eyes fluttered open to meet his. kento looked down at you with lips parted and panting, with pupils so blown with lust you could barely see the brown in them. as soon as you made eye contact with him, your body shot into a blinding pleasure as you came. throwing your head back with rolled back eyes, breathe caught in your throat, back arching off the bed, and thighs quivering as your pussy pulsed wildly around his digits.

“that’s it, darling. so good, so so good for me,” he whispered in your ear through your shaky moans, praising you through it. “you look so beautiful like this, making a mess around me just like you deserve.”

“k-ken…” you gasped for air and clawed into his back as he continued to rub circles on your clit as you came down. the sight of you was so alluring, he had to bite his lip to keep his own painful, throbbing cock from cumming in his pants. still reeling, you hardly noticed the wet nips and kisses that trailed down your flushed and sweating curves as he made his way to between your legs.

his first gentle kiss on the sensitive skin of the inside of your trembling thigh is what brought you back to reality. you gasped at the contact and your hands flew to his head.

“ken! n-no, you don’t need to-”

“i want to,” he mumbled, nipping at your other thigh before soothing the pain with his searing hot tongue. “please don’t deny me of this.”

you weren’t sure if he was asking or demanding. either way, his words made your cheeks hot and core clench with need. you hadn’t had intimacy like this in a long time, let alone with someone so sensual and focused on pleasing you, and only you. your mind filled with a million thoughts and none at the same time as kento continued his loving attacks on your thighs, hands roaming your body. noticing your hesitation, he pulled away to raise his head.

“are you alright, darling?”

“i-yes, yes. i just haven’t done this in a long time. and you, you’re just so…” you trailed off, nervously looking off to the side.

“i'm just so…?”

“just so- i don’t know,” you laid the back of your hand over your eyes, suddenly realizing what was happening. you felt so seen, laid out in front of kento of all people, thighs spread around his face with your skimpy panties pulled to the side for him to see. you couldn’t ignore his long gazes at your weeping slit.

he raised himself up and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

“you can tell me, darling,” he reassured. “we don’t have to, we can go to sleep right now.”

“so perfect,” you mumbled.

“what was that?” he delicately lifted your hand from your eyes. “look at me.”

you blushed and turned your head back towards him, eyes first landing on his nose before finding the courage to look directly in his eyes.

“you’re just so perfect.”

he smiled, dimples forming on his cheeks and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “i'm not so sure.”

you cupped his face and brought him in for a searing kiss, smiling as you pulled away.

“do you want to sleep?” he asked, eyes darting down to your mouth.

“no…”

they darted back up to meet your eyes. “may i?” he breathed.

“please?”

he kissed you once more before sitting up on his knees, hooking fingers around the band of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. a fat bead of precum dripped down his inhibited length when he spotted the string of slick that stretched between your pussy and panties as he removed them. he watched your face intently, taking in every twitch of your lips and the lustful gaze in your half-lidded eyes, you were so focused on his hands and chest that you didn’t notice.

after discarding your soiled lingerie on the floor, kento lifted your leg, pressing sweet kisses to it while his hand roamed your thigh, starting at the ankle and making his way up. everything touch and graze of his kept you in a trance. he couldn’t stop himself from stealing more glances at your sopping cunt, which was drooling onto the sheets beneath you.

“god, look at you,” he groaned, positioning himself back between your legs with them comfortably placed over each of his shoulders. you felt his shaky, hot breathes against your core, sending tingles through your body. he pressed a soft kiss against your clit that forced a gasp from your throat and a hum from him. 

although you were just laying there, eyes trained on kento and fingers intertwined in his hair, you were out of breathe and hot, like you’d just ran a mile. but nothing could’ve prepared you for the fire that would erupt in your abdomen as he finally laid his tongue flat against you with a long, slow swipe from your hole up to your clit.

“oh, fuuuck,” you cried, your hips involuntarily bucking, fingers tightening in his hair, eliciting a deep moan from kento's throat. the vibration sent goosebumps up your entire body. rough hands tightened around the fat of your hips to keep you in place as he gifted you with another long stroke.

he continued his loving attack on your bud while languish whimpers and whines continued to fall from your lips, hips writhing helplessly in his grasp. you damn near fell apart when the wet muscle pushing past the ring of resistance and into your crying cunt.

"k-kento,” you whimpered.

“you taste so good, darling,” he groaned against you. “can’t get enough- need you.” he replaced his tongue with a finger, but not before reaching down and unzipping his pants to allow his aching length some relief. his digits didn’t fail to make you clench wildly and feel small pressure as began to curl it up into your velvety walls. a second finger soon entered while he placed loving strokes and sucks with his tongue on your sensitive bud.

you’ve never been in a place of so much pleasure. his deep moans and needy breathes, the combination of stimulation against your clit and stretching sweet spot, the idea of being laid out for kento to have you- all of you, was enough to push you over the edge.

“fuck, ken- i-”

“gonna cum, darling?”

“y-yeah,” you gasped, biting your lip as you felt yourself climb to your peak.

“then cum for me, love,” he commanded, and the sound of his voice with one last deep pump of his fingers was all it took for your orgasm to take over with another clenching fit of your cunt and thighs as you repeatedly stammered his name through your high.

kento finger-fucked you delicately down from your orgasm, slowly removing them when your shivering slowed and hands released his tousled blonde hair. he pulled of his trousers, huffing at the freedom his cock felt, and knelt over you once more. he lovingly swept sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, peppering it with kisses.

“are you alright, darling?” he asked with a kiss on your panting lips. you nodded, eyes fluttering open to meet his with a smile. you were more alright than you’ve ever been, but you still felt an aching need that could only be satisfied by him.

"kento,” you murmured, feeling his abs tense as you fumbled with the waistband of his boxers. “i need…”

“you need what?” he huffed, eyes glazed over with lust.

“i need you,” you whined, cupping his length through the cloth. “i need all of you, please?”

he groaned, meeting you with a passionate kiss. “are you sure?”

“yes, please. i'm sure… need you,” you whispered.

“fuck,” he pushed off his boxers. “i need you, too.”

settling over your with a forearm beside your head, he kissed you fervently; tongues tangling while he spread his precum with his fist down his cock, doing the same with his raging red tip up and down your soaked core. kento knew he wouldn’t last long, you knew after spotting his girthy, long length that you wouldn’t either.

“forgive me, it’s been a while,” he blushed. “i probably won’t last.”

“me neither, i don’t care” you murmured with a smile and reassuring fingers fluttering over his arms and back.

“you can always tell me to stop, understand?”

“i know,” you whispered, grazing his bottom lip with your finger. “please, ken?”

“i could never deny you,” as he finally pushed his tip in, both of you moaning at the pressure. beads of sweat slowly dripped down his temple as he watched himself slowly inch himself into your pulsing heat with half-lidded eyes, already in a daze. he pushed through the tight ring of resistance, pausing in place after hearing your whimpers and feeling your nails dig into his tightened biceps.

“are you alright, love?” he panted.

“yes,” you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer, tears of pain and pleasure slipping from your eyes as you smiled at the feeling of being deliciously stretched by kento's cock. “keep going, please?”

he swiped your tears with the pad of his thumbs before kissing you lovingly and pushing further into you, both of you a whimpering mess as your clit finally reached his hilt, kissing your cervix with his leaking tip. he followed with soft, shallow thrusts to allow you to adjust to the stretch, worried about causing you pain.

“you’re taking me so well, darling. so pretty laid out for me like this.”

soon, your whimpers turned to sweet, pleasured moans, giving him permission to increase his pace. kento felt every clench and pulse of your crying cunt as he softly tapped your cervix with every thrust of his hips, every rut spreading more of your slick on his balls and pelvis, your thighs, and onto the sheets below. the sight of you under him, flushed cheeks and panting lips chanting his name, was more than enough for him. his peak came fast, almost all at once.

“sh-shit, i'm s-sorry, darling,” he stuttered, quickly pulling out and leaving you whining at the sudden emptiness. his length jerked over your pelvis as it shot fat, milky white threads of searing cum over your stomach. 

"fuuuck,” kento groaned, head buried in your neck, one hand tightly gripping the pillow underneath your head and the other on your hip. his stomach tightened with every pulse and you cried in pleasure as you felt his cum drip over the curves of your waist and pool in your navel.

he nipped at your collarbone, panting and hot as he came down from his high before raising his head and kissing you feverishly.

“i want more, need more,” he panted, using his rough, thick fingers and messily spreading his cum around your stomach, painting it with lustful strokes.

“yes, please, please, ken,” you begged, cupping his face in your hands. he prodded at your sopping wet entrance before pushing into you once more.

“you’re so good to me,” he breathed in your ear as he held you tight through your whimpers and cries. “so good, so beautiful lying under me, letting me take care of you.”

he suddenly sat back on his knees and hugged your legs to his chest, your feet dangling over his shoulders and he lifted you to a new angle that rutted into your sweet spot just right, leaving you a babbling and whining mess as you gripped the sheets beside you.

“oh god, oh- ken,” you cried, back arching off the bed as he kissed and nipped your ankles, his eyes boring into you. you- your swollen lips chanting his name, your neck and chest littered with love marks, your hardened nipples pointing towards the sky, your stomach and curves painted with his seed, your wet cunt pulling and pushing his throbbing cock, your thighs and ass that shook with every thrust. 

his calloused thumb met your sensitive clit with quick circles that made kento clench his jaw when you tightened around him almost painfully.

“i'm c-cumming!” you cried. “ah! ken-”

your orgasm crashed over you like it never had before, electricity shooting through every nerve in your body as you shook uncontrollably under him. he couldn’t do anything but continue to ram into you over and over with brutally deep strokes; addicted to your feeling, watching with widened eyes and blown out pupils when you squealed and released a small gush of clear, hot liquid onto kento's cock and pelvis.

"keeennnn,” you hoarsely moaned, only the whites of your eyes showing as your high seemingly never ended. "thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babbled nonsensically.

“taking me so good, fuck, i can’t get enough of you,” he huffed, watching your squirt drip down his pelvis and listening to the lewd squelching of your cunt before spreading your thighs around his waist once more and leaning over to kiss you. “shit, i'm close, too.”

“cum in me, ken,” you hoarsely begged, still senseless and coming down from your high as you clawed into his back. your words alone were almost enough to make him give in to you on the spot, eyes rolling back and teeth gritting together to stop himself from doing so.

“d-don’t say that,” he growled.

“please, please, ken,” you whined. “need it, i need you, please.”

“don’t, hah- beg like that,” his sweaty forehead rested against yours, unable to hold back any longer and suddenly not giving a shit about any remaining inhibitions. “i- darling, f-fuck.”

he held you tight against him, muscles spasming while his hips harshly slammed into yours, kissing your cervix every time. you moaned wildly as his fat cock stretched you wider and coated your saccharine walls with a thick layer of cum. you spiraled into yet another orgasm as kento fucked his hot spurts deeper and deeper into you by his malicious thrusts, nails clawing into his back and shaky whines escaping your swollen lips over the the heinously alluring sounds of your wet pussy.

you shared sleepy, lazy, hot kisses with each other as both of you reeled from your highs. reluctantly, he carefully pulled out, listening to your soft whimpers at the sudden emptiness and the feeling of his hot cum seeping out of you onto the sheets.

“missed you, ken,” you whispered, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

“i missed you more.”

he held you tight, unwilling to let you go ever again, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. a decade of pain and longing had suddenly vanished as you laid together, vulnerable and exhausted. you felt like you could cry, thoughts of this evening finally returning into your mind as you relished in his warm embrace. kento was the same, re-memorizing the hue of your hair and the tint of your swollen lips; mindlessly muttering praises for you like he’d dreamed about for so long.

neither of you noticed the sun peeking over the city skyline, the light reflecting off windows into your room like sequins dancing over your bodies, painting your skins in a shade of gold you could never replicate if you tried.

ahem, anyways...

next: part thirteen

tag list // @aporcelainphantom @bubybubsters @sad-darksoul @corvid007 @kenqki @ikon-teen @shhthisblogsasecret

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[wadewnstonwilson]

skin picking themed deadpool headcanons || suggestion by @asexualwitch

pairing: wade wilson (deadpool) x genderneutral!reader

author note: let me know if you guys want me to make this into an actual fic!! also would love to make more headcanons in the future featuring logan or wade so please feel free to drop me an ask!

the first time wade catches you scratching, he’s horrified. he gasps dramatically, rummages through his closet, and, with a grin, pulls out a pair of oversized, fluffy mittens. he shoves them onto your hands and tightens the cuffs. “there ! now you’re cuter, fluffier, and incapable of attacking that beautiful face of yours. mittens: maximum effort in self-restraint.”

wade carries a small spray bottle everywhere and isn’t afraid to use it. the moment he sees your hands drift toward your face, he sprays, complete with a loud, scolding hiss. “bad! stop that! no scratchy-scratchy!” he’s relentless, but somehow you can’t help but laugh when he pops out of nowhere, bottle in hand.

he gets in your face, cupping it with his hands and mockingly scolding you, “do you know how pretty you are? i'm the disfigured one in this relationship. you don’t get to outdo me by hurting yourself, you beautiful idiot.” he keeps up the mock anger but gently runs his thumb over any scratch marks, his gaze softening as he examines them.

wade becomes an overly attentive night guard, keeping a careful eye on you when he knows you’re stressed. if he sees your hand even twitch toward your face, he swats it away gently, mumbling, “nope. hands off the precious cargo.” he’ll stay up late if he has to, watching over you, determined to protect you from yourself.

beneath the antics, wade’s worry is real. when he sees the scratches or the pain in your eyes, he gets serious, holding your face between his hands. “look , i know i’m a mess, but that’s my thing. you? you deserve better than to hurt yourself like this. whatever’s going on up there,” he taps your head gently, “we’ll get through it, alright?”

wade goes all out to keep you distracted when he knows you’re feeling the urge to scratch. he’ll pull you into impromptu dance sessions, make up ridiculous stories, and even start a tickle fight. “see? hands occupied, zero casualties. i’m a genius!”

he comes up with a reward system—no scratching for a day, and you get “extra wade kisses” and maybe a favorite treat. “nothing’s better motivation than this face giving you all the affection you can handle, right? well, good, because i’m not above bribing you to keep you from hurting yourself.”

wade surprises you by actually putting his own mask on you when he’s feeling particularly worried. “here . now you’re untouchable, just like me. that face? off-limits . you’re an honorary deadpool now.” he’s half-serious, half-joking, but it’s his way of showing he’ll do whatever it takes to help you feel safe.

[harbingersglory]

I'm not sure if multiple requests are allowed (if not please feel free to ignore), but can I also request Lisa kink hcs?

{☆} characters lisa minci {☆} notes drabble, hc's, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings 18+ content, drugging (consensual)

{☆} pet play

lisa adores breaking in brats just as much as she loves obedient pups– either works for her, really, but seeing you on your knees with a collar and a leash around your throat..oh it gets her going. she won't even let you talk unless you need to stop– dogs don't speak, after all. if you've been really bad she has no problem muzzling you, too. hearing your panting and whining muffled by the leather as she constantly edges you, pushing you to the edge just to pull you back..it's her favorite part. if you've been bad, anyway. if you were a good pup, she might just overstimulate you instead, see how many times you can cum before those pretty eyes of yours roll back.

{☆} bondage

bit of an expected answer but she definitely enjoys every aspect of it. she certainly doesn't mind coming home to you already restrained, but theres something especially intimate about doing it herself. it let's her tease you, too, making sure the restraints aren't too tight by making you instinctively tug on them when she suddenly touches you or moans in your ear..shes not opposed to being restrained, either, don't get her wrong. leather, ropes, silks..she's got something for every occasion. just be careful to choose something she can't squirm her way out of, because she's surprisingly flexible, and she might just turn the tables on you mid session.

{☆} aphrodisiacs

i mean. this is pretty self explanatory. her passive literally helps with potion making, she's absolutely made something of this variety before. whoever takes it depends on the mood– sometimes it's just one of you, sometimes it's both. she just loves seeing you so needy and warm, barely able to keep your hands to yourself. when it's just her taking it, it's more of a means of..relaxation. no stress, no worries, just being taken care of by you for a bit where she can turn her brain off and enjoy it. but her favorite is when you both take it– let's you both just..let loose and fuck like rabbits for a bit, get out a bit of pent up energy. especially if you haven't seen each other for a while. if you thought she was insatiable on a good day, it's so much worse now.

[multixnichols]

Hiya would you possibly do a Nicky x reader where they have both just got out of prison and they are living together. And Nicky goes out with some old friends and they offer her heroin and it like triggers her in a way so she goes home and starts to have a panic attack and the reader has to calm her down and then they end it by cuddling on the sofa. Thank you ☺️☺️☺️

it's been so long since i wrote anything but i hope you enjoy this and thank you for sending a request <3

—nicky x fem!reader, all fluff, english is not my first language so there might be some bad english too

She's been at home for thirteen minutes. And she's quiet. Unusually quiet. See, Nicky is not one to usually dwell on things, despite everything she's been through she always tries to talk with you when something bothers her. But now she's just sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the tv.

"Since when do you watch 'Keeping Up With the Kardashians', Nichols?" you say humorously, settling next to her.

It takes her a moment to lift her gaze at you, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. And then she smiles, but it's not her usual cocky smile, it looks strained.

"Ah, y'know, sometimes i like watching people with real problems. It's good for the heart." comes her raspy voice as she scoots closer and wraps her arm around your shoulders, her body warm as the smell of her conditioner washes over you.

That earns a quiet laugh from you, your hand resting affectionately on her thigh.

You study her face for a moment, deciding that something is definitely off. She looks pretty today, her blonde hair a wild mane as always, the dark makeup around her eyes and those shapely lips you get to kiss every day. But her eyes look almost sad.

"How was the meeting with your friends?" you say softly and all you receive is silence.

Nicky's eyes glaze over, her breaths coming a little faster which she tries to hide by letting out a soft sigh. Though her attempts fall flat because now you can also see her hands trembling.

She doesn't say anything, just presses herself tighter against you to ground herself.

"Talk to me." you encourage softly.

You know the answer before she even says it. Nicky is not the kind of person to panic over nothing, not usually. And she was very hesitant to go out with her old friends in the first place considering how their friendship was always fuelled by drugs. But with your support she decided it wouldn't hurt to at least give it a shot.

Which she regrets now.

"They proposed me heroin." she murmurs, so quietly, that you have to strain your ears to actually hear her.

Instead of speaking you move to wrap your arms around her, because if there's something you learned with time is that sometimes Nicky doesn't need words but a simple touch to soothe her.

"It was– fuck, it was so hard. But i didn't take it. I swear i didn't. I thought i will but–"

"Okay." you cut her explanation quickly because she doesn't need to explain herself. You understand. You know she has enough self-restraint to not fall onto that hole again.

Her face softens as if relieved you believe her. As if she expected you to argue with her, accuse her. Nicky's not used to this kind of trust. Noone ever trusted and cared for her like you do.

"Now take a deep breath for me, okay? I'm proud of you" she quickly listents to you, taking in a shaky breath, her eyes clearing once more as a small smile grows on her face.

But it's not your voice or your gentle encouragment that eases her growing panic. No, her thoughts are on somethong else entirely.

You're proud of her.

Nicky let's out a relieved laugh, the light coming back to her eyes as she moves to lovingly pinch your cheek.

"Proud of me, eh?" comes her teasing, but also very much delighted, tone "Didn't know you were such a simp."

You laugh again, swatting her hand away from your cheek playfully, before bringing her down to lay on the sofa, her head resting against your chest.

"Man, i can't believe i get to sleep in those tits." she rasps out, her hand slipping under your t-shirt to squeeze at the soft skin of your waist, her nose intentionally burried in between your breasts.

Nicky's eyes close and she let's out a happy sigh, simply cherishing your presence.

She got seriously scared today but it's all right in the world if you're there to support her.

—