#but now……… i want my talons back

[parappah]

I want my nails done sooooo bad. I miss having long nails my goddd

[skunkes]

[mercless]

🗡 dozing off writing replies but im curious how others go about writing out stuff/the order you write particular parts, and if you have a different way of writing depending on if it's a reply, ask, or a drabble 🤔 in most cases I find I write out any spoken words first, then the tones or actions done while talking, and then depending on the writing purpose add trains of thought, other actions or specific actions that convey emotions. stuff I looove getting lost in writing include describing scenes, settings, environments, food or the time of day! for drabbles I usually start with these descriptive elements to get into the mood of it.

[silverhalla]

I think it would be rly sick if you went to go build a crow rook and the surname was Arainai

like…. just another little compradi trying to bring glory back to your house - rinnala and taliesin are dead by the house’s hand, zevran failed and deserted, guili murdered in the night, all semblance of power lost once again. the house is trying to claw its way back up, futile as it seems. that’s the way of house arainai, isn’t it? talon to knife to talon to knife to nothing, same as it’s been since the house first lost power in the early dragon age. but you, bright-eyed little crow, you’ll break the cycle, won’t you? for the family?

after all, caterina’s prized heir is right there - the demon of vyrantium, the infamous mage killer, sleeping just down the hall. you can be quiet, can’t you? all those means at your disposal, and all the opportunities you could want. you could find a way in under that armor, get to something soft and bruisable and make it bleed. he’s far from home, isn’t he? without a friend? confidantes are few and far between - even a demon must get lonely.

maybe he’d even trust you. you’re a clever little bird, right? you can find something to exploit. after all, what does a would-be talon do except claw, except maim? what else would you be good for? there is no gentleness to crows - you are here to deliver a message: run, little demon, quick as you like.

house arainai will make carrion of you yet.

[smoocheys]

have an idea for a drawing i just need to figure out the composition and. time and energy to do it

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 2, day 1

Did a little work on Flick tonight. I needed a break from animating and it was nice to do some relaxing shading on a ridiculously ornate sword n_n

[kakusu-shipping]

Where were you the day Mondatta died?

a self insert fic about loss, grief, and the stages we go through.

Ramattra was in a Talon meeting, under an agreement he’d regretted making. He was mad, he was rash, and now he’d face the consequences of his actions

Akande Ogundimu, more commonly know as Doomfist, stood proud, a live feed from Talon’s best assassin playing on a holo projection before him. Next to Ramattra was Maximillien, the highest ranked Omnic in Talon, just there for the ravager’s personal comfort.

They’d both assured him of this assassin’s efficiency, how she always hits her mark. One shot, one kill, they’d all said. When he’d had a moment, Ramattra couldn’t help but question her on this reputation.

“Everyone misses” she had answered, and now here Ramattra stood in a room of people he despised watching the brother he loved through the eyes of a killer he himself requested.

Ramattra’s grip on his staff would be enough to crush the woman’s spine three times over, as he stared unwavering at the screen, and prayed for the first time in a long time for a miracle

In an hour, the deal would be set. Mondatta would be dead, and Ramattra, his troops, his Omnics, his skills, would belong to Talon.

He would have no time to mourn in the long hours following his brother’s death. He would have no time to reflect on those back at the Shambali, the family he’d abandoned, and how they may be dealing with the loss. He would have no time to allow the pain of his choices to sink in.

And in the quiet hours, the few of them he had, he would return to the day he’d met Mondatta. Caked in blood and oil, alone on a battle field somewhere in New York city, he’d point his gun to the Monk, trembling. Mondatta would approach him and gently lay the gun to rest. He’d embrace the ravager, staining his beautiful white and gold robes in blood and oil, and Ramattra would cling to him, whimpering like a child, unable to face what he’d been made to do.

Could he face it now? Could he stand on battle fields of his own making and face his past again, knowing for sure this time his brother would not come to embrace him as he once had, sharing in the stains of his past

He had no time to ponder such things. What’s done is done. He had no time for regret, he had no time for doubt. It was time to push forward, to take what he’d been given and what he’d asked for and use it to better his people’s lives. 

The time for action is now.

---------------

Genji and Zayne, Shimadas healed in the Shambali temples, were on tour. A journey of helping, of time off, of moments spent together free as they’d ever been.

They’d stopped in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a small city with a little silly bit of history they both enjoyed looking into.

In moments they’d overhear someone watching the news a little too loudly in public about the loss of Mondatta. Their carefree moment of exploration around a funny man moth driven town ruined. They’d be left crushed, huddled together in a back alley attempting in vein to calm each other down

Moments from now they’d both experience grief worse than they’d felt sense Genji first died, grief over a man who loved them, who welcomed them into his home and brought them to a family that would stand by them as they healed and grew.

They would find a hotel, and grieve over night. They next day they’d pack up, and return to the Shambali to find the village quiet, in mourning, monks locked away in their homes in meditation, grieving as Zayne and Genji had.

Emile would force a smile to welcome them, and apologize for the quiet. They wouldn’t see Zenyatta.

A week would pass, sitting in silence by a crackling fire, Genji would face his little brother.

“I want to find Hanzo.” The older couldn’t bare to loose any more family, and his brother was out there, lost, thinking himself alone in a sea of his own thoughts, thinking Genji dead and gone from this world. “I want him to know I’m still here. That I still.. love him.”

It would be hard on them, the older and younger so close, and yet still so distant. A love just rekindled, splitting.

They would continue to travel, separated by entire oceans. Would they keep in contact? Could they keep in contact? A family split, miles and miles of land and sea separating them.

That would be their future. For now, in this moment, they sit together in an alley in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, crying together for the loss of someone they’d known their entire new lives.

-----------------

Emile was in a bar, packed full with his family, other students of the Shambali, Omnics big and small.

The bar tender had turned on the live broadcast of Mondatta’s speech. They didn’t have a television in the Monastery, and this bar was the only place open late enough to catch most of Mondatta’s touring live.

The room was hot with tightly packed monks, machines whirring and scraping together as they chatted amongst themselves, always a buzz to leave the temple.

Emile sat at the bar, a cup of orange juice in hand as he once again thanked the bar tender of letting them all take control of his television. He never minded, liked seeing the monks, he’d say, they always seemed so chipper.

In just a few seconds the atmosphere would change. All would go dead silent as Mondatta fell limp on the television.

No one would speak, no one would move. The humans in the rooms would hold their breath and wait.

Waiting for anything other than what they’d just witnessed to be true.

They’d all wait for hours in that little bar. They’d barrow phones from passers by. They’d knock on near by doors. The entire town would be up, awaiting an update, news on Mondatta’s situation.

Within two hours it would be officially announced that Mondatta has died.

There was only one who could shed tears in that bar that night, despite the near hundred people packed in together. He would cry enough for all of them.

In the coming days the Shambali Monastery would grow silent. Monks holed up in their homes, deep in meditation and prayer. The village would become a ghost town, spare one little human.

Emile just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sleep in that home, knowing Mondatta would never return. He couldn’t wear those robes, knowing Mondatta would never straighten them for him again. He couldn’t sit to meditate, knowing Mondatta could never sit by his side once more.

So he cleaned, in his sweater and jeans that no longer fit quiet as nicely as they once had. He swept snow off the stairs and dusted the sanctum and washed laundry that had already been cleaned thrice over.

He would not eat, he would sleep, for a near 4 days the human kept himself busy, and never once would he step foot in Mondatta’s home.

He’d smile when Zayne and Genji would come back. He’d tell the townsfolk the village was doing just fine when he’d go to get supplies. He’d keep himself busy as the monks around him mourned.

And in 5 days time, he would collapse in the snow, dressed in few too little clothes, just as he had the day he’d arrived at the Shambali. And like that day he will be saved by a monk he’d come to know better than all the rest.

---------------

On that day, the day they’d lost Mondatta, Zenyatta was at home, in meditation. He loved his brother dearly, but watching his speeches at protests was starting to get rather same-y. The monk needed new lessions, Zenyatta had thought to himself.

He’d be unaware of the loss for another 2 hours, until the chimes of the temple rang out, and he would join his siblings at the sanctum, and hear the news from the group that had gone into town.

Like everyone else, Zenyatta would lock himself away in his home. Sat against a wall he would stare blankly, perusing the web in his own head for any and all sources he could find on Mondatta’s death.

He’d loose track of days, reading article after article, watching video after video, scanning for anything new he could find.

Why, he would ask himself, why would anyone take out Mondatta? What could he have done, who could he have hurt just trying to spread love?

Zenyatta would spend time wishing death on whoever would do something so awful, just to retract the thought moments later. His brother would not want such a thing for even the person who would take his life.

On the third day of mourning Zenyatta would stumble into something he would wish he hadn’t. An image of the assassin.

A face to put to his desire of vengeance.

A woman with blue skin and long dark hair, an awfully tight purple suit and a large sniper rifle.

For the next few days Zenyatta would spend all his time staring at the blurry photo of this woman, wishing the worst upon her. May she loose those closest to her and may it be her own fault. May she feel the worst pains imaginable and survive. May she live the rest of her life with these regrets and no way to return. May she find a path to recovery just to have the door slammed in her face.

On the fifth day, these thought plaguing Zenyatta’s head would finally drive him mad. He would storm from his home with a bag of few things, vengeance his only thought as he crushed snow beneath his feet.

His plan to leave the village, to find the woman who did this, to put her in the ground himself, would be interrupted as a white haired man with puffy red eyes would collapse in front of him.

Thoughts of her would leave the monk alone after so long of obsession as he found himself in the company Emile, the human had taken the loss of Mondatta just about as well as Zenyatta.

That night, they would stop avoiding the truth. They’d lost Mondatta, their brother, their master, their family, and it hurt. Together they would face this, over hot tea and by a dying fire, they’d relive stories of their life in that Monastery.

Stories of sneaking out of meditations, of snow ball fights, of counting stars atop the mountain, of learning, and laughing, and being home and happy.

The night would pass and they would still be sat there, at Zenyatta’s low tea table Mondatta had gotten him for his birthday two years ago, sitting back to back in a comfortable silence.

“I want to find Ramattra,” Zenyatta will say, his hand laid gently on top of Emile’s. “He is lost, wherever he is, I am sure he is as lost as we were” He thinks back to the day Ramattra left, the fight he and Mondatta had, the last words he’d said to their brother... He knew Ramattra regretted that, now more than ever.

“We’ll find him.” Emile will smile over his shoulder, “Together.”

And in that moment, a moment of calm between storms, Zenyatta will look back and realize quietly to himself

He is in love. He has been in love for years. This. This was what love was for him.

[big-tees-and-short-skirts]

i have fucking covid again :) so glad that covid was dealt w in the past and that the only ppl that need to worry about it are disabled ppl :) so glad that someone as young and healthy as me doesnt have to worry for more than a few days :)

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[princessbrunette]

rafe didn’t like being told what to do. not in a casual way, and definitely not in a sexual way. the closest who got to that, was kitty!reader — and that was purely because sometimes he just wanted to cum. he wasn’t in the mood, and didn’t have the energy to throw her into a headlock and show her who the fuck she’s talking to.

“‘meant to be helpin’ me relax, alright so help me.” rafe presses a knuckle between his brows as he lays back on the bed, shirtless with his pants pulled all the way down to his ankles. it was hot today, and he was frustrated, and tired, and he could feel the incoming headache sprouting branches through the muscles in his forehead already. he wasn’t going back and forth with you today.

“oh like you helped me yesterday when i asked for your card to buy those mary-jane’s and you told me to have some impulse control? where’s that energy now, broke boy—” your words are cut off by his hand grabbing your face, halting you as you take your time kissing down his stomach. he glares down at you, and you can see the exasperation because he doesn’t have much fight in him today but he’ll be damned if you talked to him like that.

“shutup…do your job…we’ll talk about the shoes.” he warns, and you’re happy enough— shrugging as you continue your journey on down his body. you’re palming him now, claw like nails dragging along the sides of his skin before coming to a point where his bulbous aching tip was, swiping across the sensitive skin making him hiss. “and hurry up about it, would you?” he murmurs making you dig your nails into his thigh. “fuck.” he jerks quietly, and you press a kiss to his shaft, holding back your giggle.

despite everything, rafe liked you a lot because you were difficult. you didn’t throw yourself at him like those other chicks at the parties he went to, he was met with a challenge and a bad attitude that he couldn’t wait to fix. not in a bitchy, up your own ass, pogue way though — no, like you wanted to push him. you wanted to see how far you could take it before he snaps and bends you over. batting your spiky black lashes up at him, careless to the smudged black liner that had gathered beneath your wet waterline— you were a true fucking temptress. he’d called you that the first time you’d met, and you laughed and called him corny.

you drool on his cock, taking your time to jerk him nice and slow. you could appreciate how pretty his dick was, lengthy and the perfect thickness with a flushed tip and a bulging vein that wrapped around him like a vine. you liked to look at it, close up, all hard like this — so you didn’t care for him opening his mouth and taking that away from you.

“what did i just say huh— you want those shoes or—” you cut him off with a taloned hand sliding up his toned chest, fingers splaying over his open mouth, not even caring to look up at him.

“shut up.” you mewl irritably, huffing as you suckle on his tip, lapping up his precum the way a true kitty would devour her milk. he moans against your hand, and you keep it there lightly as a plea for him to stay quiet for once. “thank you.” you sigh sarcastically, before easing him down your throat.

rafe drops his head against the pillow, eyes closed and lips parted now, panting at the ceiling. “fuck, fuck.” he whispers breathlessly, but not without commenting on your behaviour under his breath. “lucky you’re so fuckin’ hot… with a mouth like that.”

you sink your teeth lightly into his shaft and he winces, stomach tensing which makes you giggle audibly this time. sometimes his pain satisfied you like that. someone had to humble him, and the universe had a funny way of making that person a spunky little prissy bitch, half his damn height wearing black and pink. it bordered on cruel.

you pull off with a pop, batting your lashes up at him sardonically.

“oh please, you love my mouth.”

he blinks down at you, tongue in cheek because he can’t argue, only able to let out a ‘hm.’ before pushing your head back down onto his cock to suck him off again.

you let that slide, feeling generous. after all, you really did want those shoes.

[skunkes]

i love rmemembering i can just draw however forevrer

[mercless]

🗡 mad cowboy disease....

[crimsonbubble]

no bc just imagine how sexually frustrated miguel would be after chasing you around like cat and mouse… the breeding has entered the chat

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, hair pulling, degradation, overstimulation, a bit of manhandling, improper use of webs *not proofread, just pure horny

[I want him so bad why can't he be real 😔😔😔]

MINORS DNI!!

he's getting tired of this, but your pretty eyes and soft lips draw in him each time he swore that he wouldn't fall for your games. as tired as he is, he always lets you get away with it.

letting you get away with it a little too easily. though now he's stopped his chasing, trying to keep himself occupied to stop himself from playing into your games. he can feel your eyes on him, burning into his back as he continues working through anomaly reports.

as you tried to sneak up on him, you felt something spread across your chest, wrapping around your arms. with a sharp tug, miguel pulled you into him. you collided with his chest, a hand holding his webs and a hand on your lower back. you struggled against the webs, only making him spread more around you.

miguel quickly tugged your mask off, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the shock written on your face. "not so tough now, huh?" you struggled against the webs again, trying to pull yourself away from him. "don't try and run from me now, you earned this."

miguel let out a grunt, pushing you up against his desk. he pressed a heavy hand to your back, webbing your wrists together. with little to no care, his talons rip through the crotch of your spider suit. the cloth is torn to shreds on the platform. "you've been nothing but a pain in the ass,"

miguel takes in the sight of you bound in crimson webs and bent over his desk. "a real thorn in my side." you try to peer over your shoulder only for miguel to press your head down to his desk. "we're not done til I say we're done." he disengages his suit with a flash, grinding his throbbing cock through your folds.

"you're lucky I'm even letting you have my cock." he says this yet he's just as needy for you as you are for him. the back and forth, the pushing and pulling, the cat and mouse games; he loves them but sometimes all he really wants is to web you up and fuck you til your legs give out.

and that is exactly what he's going to do. miguel lets his own fantasies and desires lead him, letting himself act on his impulses. miguel bottomed out in one sharp thrust, your walls convulsing and tightening around him as he fucked you. each thrust was heavier than the last, hips hips knocking you up further onto his desk.

with the hand pushing your face into his desk, he's tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back as he rocked his hips into yours. you can't get words out because of how rough his pace is. miguel set a hand on your hip, using it to pull your ass back on his dick.

every thrust in and pull back forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls to accommodate his size. you're practically seeing stars shoot across your vision, mouth hanging open with each moan and cry that leaves you breathier than the last. with how easily miguel is leading you to orgasm, you know that you're not getting out of this for a while.

"only the first and you're already this fuckin' messy, huh?" the condescending tone makes your pussy flutter, as miguel tracks a finger over your pulsing clit. he rubs circles against the throbbing bud as you tumble head first into another orgasm. "m-miggy-" the words are caught in your throat, being passed by lewd cries and heavy moans.

your slick is gushing around his cock, and the wet noises of skin on skin finally make it to your ringing ears. miguel pushes your head against his desk again, grunting as he speeds through his release. it's a flood of warmth as miguel keeps his pace, groaning as much cum spills out of you. "fuck, look at you. such a messy little thing."

you can't tell up from down as miguel guides you to another orgasm. you're trying to alleviate the heavy plows of his hips by raising to your toes, but it only motivates miguel to go even harder, as if he's trying to knock the sense out of you. your eyes are blurring with tears, the stinging of the overstimulation starting to bite.

in a feeble attempt at pushing miguel away, he pins your wrists against your back. he uses it as more leverage to pull you back on his cock, letting another heavy load paint your walls white. "it's okay, take it just like that." the moans he's letting out are deep and guttural, a noise you would've missed if you weren't being drowned in his mere presence.

you're struggling against the webs again, the tingle of the overstimulation reaching new heights. miguels superhuman nature granted him increased stamina and endurance, making it easy for him to ride out his second high while you're crashing through your third. "c'mon now, is that all you got?"

you outwardly whine at his words, pushing your hips back to meet him halfway. miguel leans down, his chest to your back as he kisses up your neck. his fangs pushed against your skin, lightly grazing it with a featherlike pressure. it's as if he's teasing the idea that he could sink his teeth in. he very much could but he wants you to feel everything that he's doing to you.

he's got you trapped, and he doesn't intend on letting you go any time soon.

[pinkhelados]

miguel x wife!reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

includes: fem!reader, latina!reader, miggle being a simp, p in v sex, praise kink, very slight dacryphilia, not edited! Criticism is welcome!

Miguel swore to you that he’s never make you cry. “Te lo juro, mi alma. Te hare la mujer más feliz del universo. No sentirás tristeza cuando estes en mis brazos.” He remembered saying and he meant it, what kind of a man would make a woman as beautiful as you cry? Miguel was a man of his word, after all.

Well, until now.

Miguel found himself balls deep in your pussy with his talons digging into the fat of your hips. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he just couldn’t help himself when your weeping cunt tightened around his girthy cock like a vice. “Fuck,” He groaned. “Eres- eres tan bonita,” Miguel said with each thrust. His chocolate rown hues stared lovingly into your pretty eyes. Those same pretty eyes that had fat tears of pleasure rolling down your skin as he pushed his dick further into your creamy pussy. “Too good, it’s too good,” You hiccuped. More tears dribbled down your cheeks which were quickly kissed away by your tender husband.

“Good, pretty girl,” You heard him grunt, his thrusts becoming sloppily. He was trying so hard not to cream inside that little cunt of yours. The same man who swore to you on your wedding night that he’d never want to see you weep was getting off on your tears. “Look at your pretty pussy, nena. It’s sucking me in,” He said between breaths, mesmerized by the sticky strings of arousal connecting you every time his hips pulled back. How could you be so pretty? “My wife, my perfect wife. I love you, baby.” Miguel was babbling and his head was churning out thoughts by the second. He could only focus on making you cum.

Slap, slap, slap.

“Miguel! Miguel! Mmngh~!” Saliva dripped down your chin and more gloopy tears spilled from your gorgeous eyes. Each thrust was a kiss to your sweetspot, pussy dripping sweet nectar which left a ring around the base on Miguel’s cock. “Te amo, cariño,” You squealed just as the knot in your tummy tightened as well as your legs around his waist. You were close, and Miguel would stop at nothing until he felt your cunt flutter around him. Despite drilling into your hole, his eyes were soft as he brushed your hair away from your eyes. He was drenched in passion with sweat sticking to his tan skin.

“M’ gonna cum~ C-Can’t hold it,” You whispered and you saw a switch in your husband flip.

Miguel’s talons retreated into his fingers and with strenght, he flipped you over on your stomach and went haywire. Kneading your ass, he whimpered as he chased so desperately after the pleasure. “Close- Cum- cum with me! Nena~” His plush lips fell open and his load filled your womb just as your own sticky fluids ran down the skin of your thighs. Your soaked pussy fluttered and a loud call of his name rang out. “Oh..oh god.”

Spent, Miguel flipped over next to you with labored breaths. His strong arms came around your waist and pulled you on top of his chest. “Miggy,” you purred and kissed his lips. The dim room lighting glinted of the glossy skin of your lover and you swore that your heartbeat had become impossibly fast. The two lovers panted heavily in each other’s arms, waiting for their energy to return so that they could do at all over again.