#not his words / dialog

[voltaical-art]

im in agony. a little self indulgent but I think wyll deserves to be told he's loved and have a small breakdown about it

[hiswrlds]

My fatal flaw is wanting sonic team to adhere to Sonic's core character traits while not adhering to them myself mostly due to my inability to write smart funnier dialog or even understand quibs or comebacks sometimes

[missszena]

Since I reblogged that anime clip I need to mention that when Byron actually found Team Rocket at the end of the hole, his first response was to lecture them on how the second hole they dug was shit and they need to dig holes by hand.

Dude was so hyperfocused on the quality of hole they dug that first time that Roark had to be like dad they stole your entire fossil collection please focus.

Anime Byron will forever be canon to me. That's just how he is always. You can pry that from my cold dead hands.

[morganmnemonic]

Having just come out of season 4, with people repeatedly saying "don't wait too long" and variations thereof to both generate a general atmosphere of creeping dread and highlight the parallel between martin's arc and basira's in which they both work with the enemy for the sake of their favorite person for just long enough to doom the world, I have to wonder what the hell they meant with this

like. what are you trying to say here?

[b3achysurfur]

people underappreciate ben and it bothers me sm

[limewatt]

I read the northern caves cause someone in the tags of the post about an unauthorized fan treatise said it was somewhat similar and Man. Gonna be thinking about that for a while

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Can someone kindly explain to me why writing is the worse thing ever and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[orcelito]

Never played a Fate game or watched any of the animes really. But I started playing Fate/Samurai Remnant bc I wanted to play a hack n slash kinda game & it got generally good reviews (unlike ffxvi, the other game I was looking at for this wish of mine, which ppl continuously said was pretty but kinda shallow writing-wise)

I've been enjoying it. I've already learned some things about 1600s Japan. It's pretty neat!

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[thedarkbringer]

Funny things abt Arcade Gannon that I LOVE:

He gets angrier when activating Archimedes than when you literally sell him into slavery. The difference between his fake-nice "Hi! Did you always mean to sell me to Caesar or was that a spur-of-the-moment thing?" And him screaming "YOU ACTIVATED ARCHIMEDES!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!?" is SO FUNNY.

ALSO WHY CAN YOU DO THAT?? WHY DOES NOBODY TALK ABOUT THE FACT YOU CAN SELL HIM TO CAESAR???

How nice he is to a low-int Courier. He feels responsible for you and tags along to make sure you don't die. There's a low-int dialog option when he remarks on ED-E also, where the player can say they don't know what an EMP grenade is and he responds: "It's... a thing. A science thing. It hurts robots. Don't worry about it. Silly Arcade's just telling magnetic field jokes for his own amusement" (the only time he's rude to the low-int Courier is when they turn on Archimedes, and even then, he just calls them a moron.)

You can make him a follower by (as prev mentioned) being stupid, charismatic, a good friend of his organization, or gay as a daisy. Male couriers flirt with him ONCE and he abandons everything. Idiot couriers stumble over their words and he feels a horrible amount of sympathy for them, to the point he simply cannot let them walk off and die bc of something stupid.

He is, to his core, an idealist. This does not work in his favor in most of his endings.

Some of his only friends are war criminals.

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

—

Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

—

A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

—————————————————

You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he���s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

—

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Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

—————————————————

The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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[kooppss]

lost

Jungkook's POV from thirsty.

Sexy Disasters With Feelings series masterlist

warnings: male masturbation. mention of sex and female masturbation. Jungkook is a fuckboy. This is his inner monologue, zero dialog.

word count: 2.1K

Jungkook chose you as his roommate because you're hot. 

He thought that, worst case, you’d fuck, and he’ll have to find a new roommate. Returning to where he was. 

He was sure it would be a treat to have a pretty little thing like you wandering around the apartment. He did ask you some questions about your cleaning habits and shit like that. But frankly, you could live like a raccoon, and he’d still choose you. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

You are a treat when you walk around in your pajama shorts or your slutty going out outfits. Not to mention the thin tank tops with no bra. He likes to imagine you put in extra effort for him to enjoy. 

Earlier today, you were a vision—your too-tight, too-short sports set clinging to your body, messy hair stuck to the sweat on your skin. Jungkook hopes he managed to fool you with his cool act when you talked to him. For the life of him, he has no idea what you were talking about. The final straw was the flush on your cheeks—a look he’d imagined on you more times than he’d like to admit.

It’s not his fault. He swears!

What can he do when the walls in your apartment are so thin that he can hear you being fucked in your adjoining room? When he can hear every beautiful sound you make?

He loves how loud you are. 

Sometimes, it was just your beautiful moans and whines.

Sometimes, he could hear choking sounds. He imagined it’s him in there. That you’re choking on his dick. 

Sometimes, he could hear the guy’s name spill from you. He preferred it when you didn’t. It ruined the vibe for him.

He didn’t mind when you moved in and started bringing your hookups to the apartment. Like, free porn, right? Who would complain? 

And he isn’t a hypocrite. He does his fair share of bringing people to the apartment. And you never nudged him about it, unlike his previous roommate.

Was it weird of him to touch himself to the sound of his roommate fucking in the next room?

Maybe. 

It’s not like he could do anything else when all the blood in his body traveled south. 

So why has he stopped enjoying your little shows for him lately? 

Why did he go to the gym when he heard a guy’s voice from your room? 

It’s not like he’s jealous or something stupid like that. No way. 

It was just annoying that they got to have what he couldn’t. 

Why weren’t the two of you fucking to begin with? 

Wasn't it the original plan? 

Do you not find him attractive? 

What do they have that he doesn’t? He can fuck you better. He knows it. 

So Jungkook tried to stop bringing girls when you’re at home. He thought that maybe it’ll make you stop as well. 

He hasn’t stopped fucking around, obviously. No need to be radical. 

But now he has a new problem. He misses hearing you. He wants to hear more of you. He wished you’d make those sounds for him, but until then, he’ll take whatever he could get. 

And fuck. You looked so hot earlier. You’re not making it easy for him. 

You returned from your yoga class, or whatever hot girls' workout you’re doing. With the way you looked; he couldn’t stop thinking this is exactly how he imagined you. Usually, in his head, you’re wearing way fewer clothes and you’re sprawled on his bed. But close enough. 

Shit. You’re driving him insane. 

He’d usually just fuck you out of his system. But you don’t seem to be affected by him like he expects you would. He needs to do something about it. 

So Jungkook finds himself is lying in bed, trying to think what he could do. 

He has been lying for a little while now, hand lazily stroking his length under his boxer. It doesn't seem to be evolving anywhere, but he’s too bothered to just fall asleep like that. A sound from your room snaps him out of his dazing state. It sounded like you dropped something. Maybe it was the water bottle you always take back to your room. 

It doesn't matter; the noise is a reminder that you’re right there, on the other side of the wall. He really wishes he could hear you right now. That’s always helped him get going in no time. 

He wonders, did you also touch yourself when he brought girls home? He wants to think that you did. He always tried to recall if he heard you, but it’s hard to notice when he’s balls-deep into someone else. 

He never heard you when you’re alone. Are you quieter when you masturbate? Do you use your fingers? He bet they’re not enough—not like he could use his fingers on you. Maybe you need battery-powered help? He never heard a buzzing sound. He could help you use it.  

Fuck. 

Jungkook sits up in his bed, pushing his boxer down to free his dick. He spits in his hand and spreads it over his length. The smoother glide of his hand makes him groan.

He wishes it was your hand on him. 

Would you act shy, or would you grab him with confidence? Would you be a good girl for him or a little brat? He’d know how to put you in place. He’ll do it gladly.  

He thinks about all the ways he’d take you. How he’d utilize every surface of this apartment.

A louder moan slips out of him, and he halts for a second. 

Do you hear him right now?

God, he hopes you do. 

The thought pushes him further towards the edge. He increases his pace, thinking about you listening to him in your room. That cute flush of your cheeks spreads as you lie in bed.

And with that image, he comes. 

Fuck. He needs to get a grip. 

Or get you.

__________________________________________

Jungkook had a good day. He slept like a baby last night and hit a new PR at the gym.

He’s just out of the kitchen on his way to his room when you decide to ruin his day.

Seriously, where the fuck do they sell skirts this short?

Because he wants to buy you a hundred more.

You look amazing. You really do. Why do you have to do this to him?

And it’s not even 24 hours since you made him lose his cool over you.

You didn’t see him, and you fully bumped into him. You look all flustered and cute. Blushing and stuttering.

Well, now it’s his time to shine. 

He gives you his best nonchalant grin and teases you until you walk out of the room. He knows the fact that he’s shirtless and a little sweaty works to his advantage. He caught you snicking looks. 

Good. He should do this more. 

He can’t lose.

Later that night, after he showered and made dinner, Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, mindlessly zipping through Netflix.  

Nothing catches his attention; he just chooses something as a background noise while he scrolls on his phone. He goes through stories on Instagram when something is catching his eye.

It's you, in your little teasing outfit from earlier, sitting on a high chair at some bat with a drink in hand. 

You look fucking hot. If he’d meet you there, he’d 100% try his luck with you. 

Stupid random guys have a chance with you, yet he doesn’t get one. 

He clicks on your profile without much of a thought. Scrolling down your photos. He’s stuck on one from your last vacation; you went to a beach house with your friends. You sit on the sand next to the water, a beautiful smile on your face. And you’re wearing one of the smallest bikinis known to mankind. 

He barely processes that his hand is already inside his sweatpants. And if he weren't fully hard by now, the next photo would have done it. You stand with your back to the camera, still in the same location, same deviled-creation bikini, ass cheeks on display, covered with sand. Your ass looks fucking amazing.

Before Jungkook even finishes thinking about all the things he’d do to it, he’s already coming in his hand.

He sighs; you make him act like a teenage boy. Cuming in his hand from a photo of you in a bikini. Fucking embarrassing. 

He reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table and grabs some to clean the mess before cleaning himself better and washing his hands in the bathroom. 

When he returns to the living room, you’re there. He takes his spot on the couch, and before sliding his phone into his pocket, he realizes it’s still open on your Instagram. He knows how it looks. He assumes you can piece together to some degree what has happened here. He expects you to call him out, maybe to lash out. But instead, you look… shy? Could it be? He never pegged you for the shy type.

And you’re blushing now? Oh, Jungkook likes this game.

He looks at you, waiting for you to say something. To make your move. But you fold first. Saying goodbye and turning away.

Jungkook has won this round.

A slow grin spreads across his face as he watches you walk to your room, knowing this won’t be the last time you’ll play.

Hours later, Jungkook is still thinking about what happened. He feels like he should make a move, take advantage of the momentum. He has a proof that he’s had some effect on you; now he just needs to break through your walls. He’ll keep up the teasing, building this tension between you two. He saw an opening, and he should go for it—

Even if it’s just to see you blush more because of him.

__________________________________________

Jungkook pulls the headset down to rest on his neck. They just had a win, and now he’s waiting for Taehyung to come back after taking a piss. He grabs his phone and scrolls through it almost automatically.

Until he sees it.

WTF. 

Holly fucking shit. 

He mumbles into the microphone, “start without me,” and tosses the headphones away. 

He stares at the photo; he can physically feel all the blood in his body traveling directly into his penis. It’s so intense he almost feels lightheaded. 

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? 

So this is it. After days of him teasing you and trying to catch you off guard, you finally played your move. And what a fucking move it is. 

You fucking tease. 

Oh, you think you’re so smart with that. You want him to collapse? To fold down? No problem. You’ll get a front-row seat to him burning in hell. He’ll drag you down with him. 

You little devil.

Jungkook head spins with the image of you; he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. 

Fucking hell, you caused this problem; you should be the one fixing it. 

He can’t figure you out. You act all shy and flustered, and then you pull this? Why the hell did you even take that photo? Did you know you’ll need to torture him?

Jungkook doesn’t know if to bless you or to curse you. He doesn't know if he hates what you do to him or if he can't get enough of you. 

He thought he had the upper hand, that he was about to win. But you’re all-consuming. He thought he was the one hunting you, yet he feels like your prey. It’s so good and so sinful, this little game you play.

He’s a player, and he’s addicted to the game. 

He comes loudly. He doesn’t care if you hear him. You need to know the extent of your effect on him. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

He leans back in his gaming chair, head tilting back, trying to cool down. 

Even with his mind fucked up, Jungkook knows what it means for him. He’s at the gate. He’s almost at his destination. The game is about to end. And honestly, he doesn’t care who wins or loses at this point—as long as he gets you.

After a few more rounds, they finally call it a night. Jungkook shuts down his computer and sets the headset aside. He pulls off his sweatpants and tosses them into the laundry bin. He’s about to get into bed when he hears noises from outside his room. He glances at his phone—it's already past 2 AM. You should be asleep. He grabs his phone and heads to investigate the source of the noise.

It’s you. You catch him off guard again. He finds you bending down in front of the fridge, reaching for a water bottle from the bottom shelf. You’re wearing nothing but a shirt and simple white cotton underwear. Cute. You look even better in real life. That ass looks better.

You turn around, startled by him.

And even though it’s too dark to see it, he knows it’s there.

He knows you’re blushing.

Yeah.

He lost.

Back to series masterlist

[ravensvirginity]

@ravenrroth PLEASE yeah that was so silly... like oh hello Raven tell me a deep insight into your boyfriend's mental state please. I don't care about how you're doing tho

and yeah I think I should count Vic's dialog too but I can be sure without counting that he has the least out of everyone. Like the lack of interest this comic has for anyone who isn't one of the white male heroes is genuinely insane and they're not even trying to hide it. thank god vic has a solo at least

In the current Titans run (as of 11/21/23, with 5 issues out) Raven has had a speech bubble a total of 79 times. Out of those 79, 56 have been her either talking directly to Gar or about Gar. That is 71 percent of her dialog. All of her non Gar dialog is very generic basic superhero dialog as they fight and try to help Wally not die. She has hardly said a single thing about herself in 5 issues.

Compare that to Gar, who has a total of 124 speech bubbles across five issues. Of those, only 22 are talking to Raven or about Raven. That's 18 percent. Gar does have a lot of dialog talking about himself and his feelings, beyond the standard superhero stock dialog.

Say whatever you want about the characterization or if you like this run or not, but that is not an evenly balanced relationship with each character explored equally. It's genuinely insane to me that a character like Raven is given so little to say, and when she does get to talk nearly 3/4ths of her dialog is just about her boyfriend. I haven't counted Kory or Donna's dialog, but they similarly don't have much compared to the male characters. This comic blatantly doesn't have an interest in its female characters, and that just kind of sucks, you know?

[marduksstuff]

THESE TWO CHARACTERS BECAME MY ROMAN EMPIRE

I am so saddened that there is so little content on them! I was also terribly sad when Dinobot was dying and Rattrap was holding his hand!😭And then Silverbolt and Rattrap had that dialog about Dinobot and I got the idea for this art...

I want to believe that his words "And I regretted it" were about how hard it was for him to lose that silly dinosaur:(

[bolognamayhem117]

Hot Take: Astarion does NOT hate flowers. You just missed a few subtle hints through Act 1 and early Act 3.

Astarion's negativity is directed toward just about anything remotely pleasant as you move through early act three, starting the moment you leave Wyrm's Rock. First thing after Gortash's coronation he marvels near tears at the colors of the city in daylight. If you ask if he's alright, it pisses him off.

There's other instances I can't quite remember but he's a straight crank throughout early Act 3 and it took me several hours of gameplay to have a lightbulb moment about his newly crappier attitude.

He just spent the last two hundred years seeing everything in the overwhelmingly warm dim tones of indoor lighting via sconces, rushlights, and braziers, or the dingy blue gray of moonlight outside. Daylight colors are something he had more than a lifetime to forget and now that he has a chance to remember that vibrancy in his own home town, he knows he's going to have to forget it all over again either by death or by remaining a vampire spawn forever. The worm isn't going to live rent free in his head forever, and killing Cazador to ascend in his place likely feels like an insurmountable and impossible fight against a literal titan who could stomp him flat without a corm of effort.

He doesn't hate flowers, he hates EVERYTHING right now because it's all going away very soon and if he convinces himself he hates everything then he won't miss it when it's all gone again. He was denied this for two hundred years and he's PISSED at what was stolen from him and PISSED it's all going away again.

He behaved similarly in Act 1 about anyone besides him enjoying physical intimacy. Some of this content was cut, to my best knowledge, but the overwhelming majority of his dialog addressing the PC romancing anyone but him are negative or backhanded. This is for two reasons, I think. A: his Simple Plan just dissolved right before his eyes when you chose someone else which in his mind means he has zero safety net, and EVERYONE gets to enjoy sex (key wording being ENJOY, not simply having) except him... And it pisses him off.

He also gleefully interrupts the bug bear and the ogress, I think for the same reason as the above paragraph, being: If he doesn't get to enjoy intimacy neither do they.

He reacts with anger and disgust at anything he's being unfairly denied. Which... That's fair. His feelings are valid, but his reaction to it is pretty shitty and meanspirited.

The other companions I tend to keep in my party, (that is Lae'zel, Halsin, Karlach, and Wyll) however, are actually appearing to behave pretty patiently with him in Act 3 which I find interesting.

In the instance with the flowers Karlach doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise of his opinion, she just tells him how they make her feel instead and rather than getting snippy or doubling down he more or less agrees to disagree. I also don't recall anyone disagreeing with Astarion during Gale's last quest tasks when he mentioned that he quit praying to gods who wouldn't hear him a long time ago but to be fair, I think the gods did everybody in this crew dirty and they all know it. It seems like they're consciously giving him the space to be mad about things, is what I'm saying.

Everyone I know including myself who crawled out of a long-term hot garbage situation kinda went wild for a bit with freedom, spoke poorly, behaved strangely, had extreme emotional reactions to things, and made some particularly terrible choices. I think that's just a part of recalibrating yourself, healing and learning how to be okay again.

Point is, I wouldn't conflate too many of the turbo-negative things he says with how he actually feels about anything. We certainly know what he says and what he feels are two very different things.

[fortheb0ys]

FUCK ME LIKE THE MEN BETWEEN THOSE PAGES

Bottom John Price x Top Male Reader

Just Price brain rot🤤 I've always wanted to a model for MLM porn sites ngl so I'm living through this fic🙏 As usual not proofread :)

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

Prices would be one of those faceless models for those erotic gay romance novels. All his work would be faceless. Just something he did to make money on the side.

It was a secret that was long forgotten. Memories replaced by his military service. His body more scarred than his younger self's. His own books but they were just collecting dust in a box.

When you got together, you had found one of the books Price had forgotten that was on a shelf. Your eyes grew wide as you noiced it was Price's shirtless body on the front cover. A small mole on his left hip was telltale that it was him.

Flipping the book over and reading the synopsis reveals the dirty content of it. All the colour washes from Price's face as he sees what you have in your hand.

Price was about to open his mouth to quickly deny it but saw your giddy excitement. Though Price felt a bit shameful, he told you that there was more. A lot more.

With much hesitation from him and a whole lot more convincing from you, Price lent you the books. His amazing body on every single one of them. A new scar here and there as the

He had been surprised that you never poked fun at him and that you were genuinely interested in his past works.

You'd admit that the sex scenes depicted were the main thing that got you interested. You'd imagine Price vividly as the characters he model on the front covers. It didn't take long for you to read through the lot of them.

When Price would be on deployment, he'd get a text from you.

Cum on the front cover or on the pages. Or others with your erect cock slotted like a bookmark between the pages with the dirtiest scenes, precum dripping onto the sheets.

You'd send worded texts underneath the photo like "Try these with me?" or "What if were we the ones to do this?"

Price hated himself for showing you the books right before the mission, making the wait painfully long.

Sexualy frustrated and slightly pissed he had to wait for his deployment to end, Price would have a lonely wank in his barracks. His fingers didn't feel right. His fantasies never felt like details in the books. Nothing felt like you.

Once he got back, Price had to fight back a boner as the anticipation took over him. He went through countless cigars trying to get his mind on something else. The 141 Boys knew something was up. Soap had to control the intrusive thoughts to ask if you were waiting naked when Price returned home.

Which he wasn't wrong. The moment Price came through that door he was already painfully hard. Before he could even open his mouth to greet you, you were on him like a fly to honey, attacking his neck with bruising kisses. Whispering the dirty dialog from one of the books made Price weak in the knees.

Thus was the beginning of your roleplay sex.

Your playtime is always different. Numerous scenarios with one thing in common: Mind blowing sex.

Price would play a royal guard, and you, the prince. A prince in a loveless engagement to a princess. A guard pleading loyalty as he rides the prince on the royal throne.

A grade slipping college student fucking his teacher in an empty classroom for extra credit. Blowjows underneath desks replaces the outdated method of study and paying attention to lectures.

A hunter who falls in love with a werewolf he's supposed to kill. The wolf is just a dumb puppy who needs to be told what to do. With a collar around his neck, ready to be tugged at and the willingness to please his master, puppy soon becomes skilled at lapping at master's hole.

A rowdy rockstar and his stressed out manager. The musician needing to burn off the adrenaline after the show and the poor management needing the stress fucked out of him. The real show was played backstage. The manager put on quite the proformance, his deep moans sounded much better than your singing.

A sex therapist that prefers to take on a more hands-on approach. That skilled tongue was used more than just giving advice.

Or lastly, a priest beguiled by a gorgeous sinner. Guilt was all he felt but it felt like true heaven. God would forgive any sin if he showed true repentance, right? Wouldn't Jesus have died for nothing if we didn't sin?

Sure, some where terrible written and some were written by women with a fetish for gay men. Seeing you act out the scenes without missing a beat or breaking out into laughter while you quoted the dirtiest and most ridiculous things.

You'd remember every dirty word uttered. Every scenario memorized. Price was starting to understand what those white women on TikTok saw in those fucking books. It was just too bad they couldn't live it out like he could.