Idkmanimmaleaf

you and wireface are sitting on the floor, sharing whatever food you managed to scrape together. it isn’t much — just enough to keep the two of you happy.

he sits closer than he needs to, thigh bumping yours every so often. every few seconds, his eyes look toward you — a quick check, like he’s making sure you haven’t disappeared… he can’t help but to look at you.

you tear a piece from your portion and offer it to him.

“here. bite small this time, please.”

he stares at it… then at you… then at it again. he nods, earnest, like he completely understands.

he does not understand.

the moment he leans in, his jaw opens too wide. you hear it before you process it — a thick, wet sound that makes your stomach tighten.

blood.

a thin line of red slips from the corner of his mouth as his once healing lips go back to how they were when freed. he freezes mid-chew, eyes wide like he’s betrayed his own body again. he looks at you, horrified, as if he’s waiting for your disappointment.

“oh my gosh…” you sigh, already leaning closer. “i told you — small bites!”

his shoulders curl inward. he mumbles something low, ashamed:

“wznm… r wrwm’g nvzm gl. r’n hliib.”

you can’t translate it, but you feel the meaning all over him.

he tries wiping the blood with the back of his hand, but all it does is drag a smear across his cheek.

“stop — let me.”

you catch his wrist, gentle. he goes absolutely still, breath stuttering. you bring your thumb to the corner of his mouth and wipe the blood away, slow, careful. his breathing changes instantly — deeper, softer, a quiet surrender blooming right under your fingers. his lips part slightly, not from pain now… from something else.

“you always do this,” you murmur, softer than you meant. “you eat like you’re trying to prove something.”

he watches your face as you frown, slightly smirking even though it hurts him too. his free hand lifts, hesitating… then taps your knee twice — gentle, deliberate. a thank you.. or maybe… a don’t stop? maybe both.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, even if he can’t understand the words. “i’ll clean you up..”

he leans in — barely, but enough that you feel the warmth of his breath brush your cheek.

you grab a napkin from the side of your meal, pressing it to his mouth. he winces, then lets out a soft, whimper slightly.

you look up, the closeness hits both of you at once.

his eyes are on your lips now. not subtle. not a mistake.

you swallow, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth again just to steady yourself.

“you okay?”

he hears the concern in your tone, nodding. too fast. too eager. then whispers, voice low and rough:

“pvvk glfxsrmt nv.. kovzhv.”

you don’t know what the words mean, but the way he says it — shy, desperate, almost tender — you know the feeling behind it.

you pull the napkin away slowly. his eyes track the movement like he wants you to bring your hand right back to his face.

“c’mon,” you say softly. “let’s finish eating. carefully, this time.”

but he doesn’t reach for the food.

he just watches you — like he’s memorizing the way you look when you’re taking care of him.

like he’s already getting greedier for that instead.

wireface can’t keep his eyes off you, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. it’s been a few days since you last helped him clean his mouth, but he still looks at you like you might disappear any minute, and his hand goes straight to his lips every time he gets too nervous.

he doesn’t want the wound to heal all the way.

he doesn’t want you to stop caring…

you know it’s not just the food he’s getting greedy for when you’re cleaning him up.

the way he puts your hands back onto him leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, mouth going soft — he can’t hide it, not really.

you can feel it in the way he doesn’t pull away, in the way his body seems to shift closer every time you help him.

you’re trying to be good to him… gentle but his eagerness makes you want to do more than just care for him. his desperation makes you want to ruin him in ways that have nothing to do with wounds.

you look down at him and at the same time you notice his dick, already half-hard under his pants, is pushing against the fabric.

he freezes.

so do you.

his jaw tightens.

so does his throat, struggling to swallow. he whispers, shaky:

“hliib...”

you look at him, brow furrowed.

“for why..?”

he blinks, then looks down again. the shape of his dick is more pronounced now, clearly straining against the thin fabric.

“r.. r xzm'g svok nbhvou.”

he’s embarrassed, but he doesn’t look away. he doesn’t pull away either. if anything, he leans in a little closer — like he wants you to look at the effect you’re having on him. like he wants to show you just how much he likes the care.

you look up at him, then back down.

his dick is fully hard now.

he clears his throat — or tries to — then mumbles:

“gsv dzb blf xziv— blf'iv hl yvzfgrufo...”

the words aren’t clear, but the meaning is.

he’s not sorry at all.

you bite your lip, shifting back just enough to create some space. you can’t help but glance at his dick again, then look back up at his face.

he looks away slightly, feeling guilty.

you try to ignore the warmth spreading through you — the way your body responds to him even though you know you should be pulling away, but he looks back up with you desperation all over his face, he seems to want more of everything.

“i’m going to need you to stop looking at me like that ,” you finally manage to say, voice low. “finish your food—”

he cuts you off, shifting closer again, holding onto you, “kovzhv..”

you close your eyes, breathing in deep. you need a moment to collect yourself — you need to remember that you’re supposed to be a good person. you’re supposed to just… care for him, not push him onto the floor and take what you want.

but, the way he looks at you… it’s not pity or shame or worry.

it’s hunger. plain and simple.

it only gets worse when you open your eyes again.

he’s looking at your lips. not even trying to be subtle anymore.

“kovzhv,” he says, softer. pleading. “qfhg glfxs nv..!”

you shake your head, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. you can’t bring yourself to say no when he’s looking at you like that. like he wants more than just your kindness. like he’s…begging you to ruin him.

you try to move away, but his hand catches your wrist, tighter. he holds you there, gentle but firm, eyes never leaving yours.

“mlml kovzhv..” he whispers.

and that’s all it takes for you to give in.

you lean in, closing the distance between the two of you, and press your lips to his. his breath hitches, body going completely still for a moment like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

but then he relaxes, just enough, and lets you take what you want from him.

you kiss him deeper, slower, tongue dragging along his lower lip. he shivers, fingers tightening around your wrist. he tries to pull you closer, but you don’t let him — you just keep him there, kissing him until he’s shaking, until his jaw starts to ache from the movement of his lips.

“o..ow” he manages to mumble against your mouth, “pvvk tlrmt...”

you don’t understand the words, but you know what he means.

more.

you see how eager he is to let you keep going, and it makes something bloom inside you.

you want to use him up, to make him ache in ways that have nothing to do with his wounds.

you pull back just enough to look at him — to really look at him. his face is flushed, eyes glazed over, mouth already bruising from your kiss, bleeding again. you touch his lips, gentle, and he whimpers. in both pain and desperation.

you kiss him again, softer this time. sweeter. and he responds immediately, mouth opening for you like he needs it, like he’s starving for it, regardless of his aching pain.

you slide your hand down to his jaw. he presses into your palm, eyes falling closed again as he leans into you.

you take your other hand and feel his dick, too — hard against your thigh, moving yourself onto him.

you shift your hips, just a little, and he gasps against your mouth. you do it again, harder, and he makes a sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a groan.

“kovzhv,” he mumbles, desperate. “kovzhv… kovzhv…”

you pull back, just enough to look him in the eye.

“hm?”

he doesn’t answer.

he just stares at your mouth, chest rising and falling too fast.

“kovzhv…” he tries again. “r...r mvvw..”

he can’t get the words out.

you lean down, kissing him again — deeper, rougher. you bite his lower lip, making him whimper, tasting the blood, then soothe it with your tongue. he shudders, hips shifting against yours.

you can feel how hard he is, how much he wants this. how much he wants you…

“kovzhv,” he begs, breaking the kiss to speak. “kovzhv…r...r mvvw blf.”

you hear his begging tone, knowing you should say no.. but you can’t, not when he’s looking at you like this.

you reach down, hand sliding over his dick. he gasps, body tensing, then relaxes into your touch. you stroke him, slow and gentle, thumb brushing over the tip through his pants. he whimpers, fingers digging into your thigh. you do it again and he bucks into your hand, desperate for more.

“ufxp,” he says again, voice cracking. “u..ufxp, ufxp!”

you look up at his face, taking in the sight of him. he’s completely lost in this, completely undone, just for you..

his eyes are glassy, mouth open, cheeks flushed. he’s so beautiful like this. so…needy.

you want to ruin him.

you want to take him apart and put him back together again, just so you can do it all over.

you begin to grind on his bulge slowly, he makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. you swallow it, kissing him deeper, rougher. your hand is still on his dick, stroking him through his pants as you grind. he’s leaking now, wetting the fabric. you can feel it, hot and slick against you.

“f..fuck,” you mutter against his mouth. “you’re so hard for me…”

you keep stroking him, thumb circling the tip. he bucks into your hand again, hips jerking up off the floor. you can feel how close he is, how desperate he is for release. but you don’t want him to come yet. you want to draw this out, to make him beg for it. you want to make him earn it.

“not yet,” you tell him, slowing your strokes. “not yet, you have to wait.”

he shakes his head, feeling so terribly edged.

you kiss him again, gentler this time.

“you can wait…”

he whines, low and desperate, making your heart pound. you want to hear that sound again. you want to feel it.

you shift your hips again, pressing down on him. he gasps, dick twitching against you. you do it again and again, grinding against him. he bucks up to meet you, desperate for the friction.

you kiss him, swallowing his cries. you keep grinding against him, rubbing your clit through your pants. you’re so wet, so desperate for him. you want to fuck him, to feel him inside you. you want to ride him until you both cum, until you’re both falling apart.

you stroke him faster, tighter. he cries out, fingers digging into your skin. you can feel his dick pulsing in your hand, can feel him getting closer and closer. you keep going, kissing him through his cries.

“mm…mmph~”

he breaks apart with a sob, dick throbbing in your hand as he cums. you keep stroking him through it, milking him. he collapses back against the floor, chest heaving. you kiss him again, soft and gentle.

“good boy,” you murmur.

“so good for me, but you need to be more careful next time— now continue to eat your food, eat slower this time.”

unfortunately.. he collects himself and continues to eat just the way he was before.