#claw stretch wc

[lemnnshark]

"Claw Stretch is a tabby wildcat she-cat."

"Hop Scratch is a wildcat she-kit with green eyes."

[rosemist50]

Part two of the Ivypool's Heart cats: All of the wildcats! Spoilers under the cut.

OKAY SO I thought I would have a harder time trying to make SIXTEEN tabby wildcat designs, having never drawn a design for this type of wildcat ever before, but I actually had fun with it. Had to do a couple practice sketches in my notebook to get the overall shape and feel down, but I think they came out alright. I found that image at the very end on a TikTok of someone talking about the European Wildcat (assumed to be the ones in the books), and I thought I'd put it here since it was a big help to me for designing these guys. If you look you'll notice that some of the wildcats look less like the 'pure' European wildcat; Strike Slash with his white underside, Purr Roll's bouncy fur, and some look more; Bound Hunt and Leap Growl. The thought process here was that over time with Galestar's line and other hybridizations the wildcats would become more hybridized, slowly drifting away from the 'pure' European wildcat. Bound Hunt is, in this respect, an example of what a completely non-hybridized wildcat would look like, and follows much of the image from that TikTok.

ANYWAYS, to start we have Tumble Leap and Stalk Purr, the first two wildcats the traveling cats meet, and their three kits Pounce Whisper, Stretch Blink, and Hunt Leap. Then is Bound Hunt, Galestar's second mate. And after is Strike Slash and Wish Stalk, who are also mates, and Claw Stretch and her daughter Hop Scratch. Then the elders Prowl Sleek, Hunt Growl, and Spring Claw. And finally the spirit guides of Whisper Claw for Pounce Whisper, Leap Growl for Tumble Leap, and Purr Roll for Stalk Purr.

[benkeibear]

『 Big 』

☼ synopsis: Gyomei was a gentle giant, or at least he tried to be but it wasn't easy when he's balls deep inside of you.

☼ character: Gyomei

☼ wc: 1.2k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, size kink, oral (reader receiving), facesitting, fingering, cervix fucking, creampie

☼ notes: he is rotting my brain badly it just won't stop 😩 || requests are open!

Gyomei has always been a gentle giant, his physical appearance small compared to his big heart and that's what made you fall for him. It was the way he cared for his loved ones so dearly, how he held your hand with utmost care as if you'd break at any second. Loving Gyomei was a second nature to you, smiling at the way he panics when he feels like he's been a little too rough, how he makes sure not to raise his voice at you, no matter what or how small he managed to made you look - compared to him, almost everyone looked small. His frame was dwarfing yours when he kissed you tenderly, big hands resting on your hips ever so gently, touch feather light when he moved to cup your cheeks. The way he had no issue lifting you up to make you sit on his lap instead, looming over you made him fear he'd accidentally squish you to death beneath his large frame but you couldn't complain when your hands rested on his broad chest, lips locking once more in a heated yet gentle kiss.

A low rumble came from his chest when you slowly unbuttoned his shirt “petal… are you sure?” He mumbles, stopping your hands from undoing another button. The memory of your pained whines coming back into his head from when you two made love last time, at how he barely fit inside of you and how sore you were after. What he couldn't see however, was how your eyes rolled back into your head and how the drool slipped out of your mouth at how good the stretch felt despite the stinging sensation. “I’m sure Gyo… you make me feel so good… so full,” you whispered as you planted open mouthed kisses onto his chest which made him melt.

Who is he to deny you your wishes, allowing you to undress him further before big hands reached for your clothes, taking them off piece by piece and letting his hands wander over your body to feel your soft skin. This was one of his favorite parts, feeling the goosebumps form under his gentle touch, your nipples pebbled effortlessly when he swiped the pads of his thumbs over them before leaning down to capture one of them between his lips to suck on it eagerly while his tongue flicked over it. Sweet mewls filled the room when he moved on to the other nipple, hands traveling to your thighs.

Gyomei had no issue lifting you from his lap onto his face when he laid back, his tongue swiping through your drenched folds without further warning as he moaned from your sweet taste. Your hands found home in his short hair, gently tugging it when your hips started to move on their own accord, grinding against his skilled tongue only to be held in place by your waist, his tongue dragging torturously slow through your folds until he attacked your bundle of nerves with quick flicks, the change of pace making you cry out his name.

Angelic moans filled his ears, muffled by your thighs squeezing around his head the closer you got, moaning into your sweet cunt when you graced his tongue with your juices, coming undone from the way he was eating you out and Gyomei refused to stop - needing you dripping wet. Only when your clit was so sensitive you couldn't take more of his onslaught he let go of your waist, allowing you to fall off of him but not too far, big hands already spreading your thighs again "Need to get you nice and ready for me, petal," he mused, comforting kisses getting littered on your thighs when a single finger entered you, enough to make you moan once again.

The way you clawed onto his arms made him more eager, forgetting his own size when he pushed a second and third finger into you which left you gasping for air, velvet walls fluttering around the digits and the stretch alone made you come undone once, twice until you were begging for his cock. Your lewd pleas for him made the heat rise up to his cheeks, fingers scissoring you open just to make sure you're ready to take him. Oh how he'd love to see the sight in front of him, cunt sopping wet, leaving a patch on the sheets beneath you just from his fingers. His cock hung heavy, the precum already leaking down onto his fat shaft when he wrapped his hand around it, his huge body once again dwarfing you beneath him, groaning when your hand reached for his length, barely able to wrap your hand around it. Everything was just so small in comparison to him, it made it hard to stay composed but hurting you or even breaking you was something he was genuinely scared of, forcing himself to take deep breaths when he lined the tip up with your entrance, needing slight force to push the head of his cock past your entrance.

Gyomeis jaw went slack at the mewls you let go, his cock slipping into you inch by inch while he praised you until his balls rested heavy against you, hips lined up with yours. “You're taking me so well, flower,” he whispered, his lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss while your walls still struggled to adjust, feeling them clench around him until you started moving your hips, signaling that he can move. Pulling out almost all the way before pushing himself back inside of you made him see stars, able to feel every ridge in your walls as he did so, your desperate moans filling the room alongside the lewd squelching of your arousal - a sign that he prepared you well enough. The louder your moans got, the more your lover lost himself, his pace quickened as well as the power of his thrusts until he was pounding into you as if this is the last time he will ever have you. Hearing you cry out in pleasure from the way his cock kissed your cervix over and over, almost inside of your womb made his own tears run over his cheeks in thick streams. “You can do it, petal” he moaned, your thighs folded tightly to your chest when he felt you come undone, your cunt squeezing him and milking him from everything he had to give. Heavy grunts fell from his chest when his hips started to rut into you, his cum spurting inside of you and painting your walls white as you wiped the tears from his cheeks until his hips finally stilled and his head came down to hide in the crook of your neck.

It amazed him every time how well you took him despite the strain it puts on your body, but you cry and moan his name so beautifully, begging him for more and more and you both knew that it never just stays at one round, especially not when your walls still fluttered around him after he came, pushing him into overstimulation but he didn't mind it, wanting to give his petal everything she wanted, easily flipping you over so you were now on top of him, letting you choose your own pace. All he wanted was to feel you so close, big hands intertwining with yours when you started riding him.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ hubris! ── a blue lock fanfiction. // where you come to wreck the blue lock boys but end up ruined instead. [find part 1 here.]

synopsis: when ego jinpachi asked you to be the ruination of the national japanese football team, you gladly accepted. how hard could it have been? ruining a couple of men was child's play. but what a fool you were, because now you lay in front of the same people you vowed to ruin, and you knew they were about to devour you whole. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, meguru bachira, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage.] // gang-bang. it's implied that the reader has slept with them all previously [in part one]. also, yes! this is consensual. no dub-con or non-con going on, dw!! cw: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. [this means the story contains themes one may not be comfortable with. if you find yourself growing uncomfortable, please click away.] NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN DURING A DELUSIONAL PHASE. MDNI. nsfw concludes: OVERSTIMULATION!!! BLINDFOLD!!! MARATHON SEX!!! GANGBANG!!! penetration, doin' it raw, cunnilingus, blowjob, teasing, nicknames, slight bimbofication, overstimulation, praise, marathon sex. my digital footprint goes craaaazy :) wc: 1.2k words m.list

you had believed you would ruin the blue lock boys. you had believed that till the end, till you entered your last prey's room: reo mikage's room. one after the other, you knew you had the boys in your palm. with just one more to conquer, you were utterly confident.

perhaps that hubris is what brought upon your destruction.

reo's request was a bit strange, sure. he had asked you to put on a blindfold, asked you to do nothing else but follow his voice. strange, but nothing you weren't well-equipped to deal with.

what you weren't ready was for all the blue lock boys to corner you like some helpless, little ragdoll.

"you're being too hard on her," rin itoshi commented, looking at how meguru bachira ruined you at the mercy of his tongue. the pink muscle fucked into you, lapping up the dripping juices like it was bachira's only focus in life. rin tsked, "slow down, bachira."

"hah," rensuke kunigami found himself scoffing, looking at the way rin pushed his erection past your lips and fucked your mouth with reckless abandon. the orange-haired man teased, "bold words from you, itoshi. look at what a mess you're making of her."

by mess, the muscled man meant how your chin and lips were dripped in drool and everything that tasted of rin itoshi. you were running out of hair as the star player pulled your mouth up and down his hardened cock.

"ugh, clear up." nagi seishiro quipped up next, stretching his arms as if he wasn't seeing the most lewd display right in front of him. you laid on reo's bed, eyes blindfolded as they men devoured you one after the other. meguru bachira was hooked on your core, eating you out, while rin itoshi fucked your mouth and hyoma chigiri played with your erect nipples, tugging and licking them. nagi huffed, "when's it gonna be our turn?"

"patience," reo mikage reminded the snowy-headed man, "you can have her next."

the men seemed to converse within themselves, only bringing their attention back to you as you gagged on rin's dick. gasping for air, you blindly clawed at his thighs and the hot-headed itoshi finally gave you some mercy. as he pulled out of your mouth, your throat felt strangely empty, almost as if the footballer had made you his own cocksleeve.

"move," isagi yoichi huffed, "it's my turn."

"you had her not even five minutes ago," bachira whined against your puffy, glistening cunt and you heard hyoma chigiri finally let go of your tits with a resigned sigh, "yeah, fuck off, isagi. you just had her."

"and i wanna go again," the raven-headed muttered impatiently, his razor-sharp tongue ready to fight whoever necessary. but kunigami interfered, laughing as he traced the outline of your body with his hungry eyes, "can't blame isagi. i mean, jus' look at her."

see, you would have paid attention to all their bickering if you weren't losing your mind right this second.

all you could feel were hot licks against your clit and a tongue fucking you senseless, you could feel rin— oh, wait. no. from the scent of his soap, it was nagi, now. you could feel nagi push his tip past your wobbling lips. you could feel chigiri play with your nipple, reluctantly sharing another one with reo (if your guess was correct.)

a crazed lick went down the side of your waist, followed up sweet kisses on your thighs and hips. who was that, now? kunigami, or isagi? or wait... did bachira switch with someone else now?

you could swear you were losing your mind, you could swear except you weren't sure you were cognitive enough to think of anything right now.

"gotcha. finally." isagi husked, and you felt him push his erection past your puffy folds and into your velvety hole.

"oh—" you moaned against nagi's shaft, words nothing but senseless garbage that mimicked the human tone. and as act of benevolence— no. as a sadistic act, nagi pulled himself out of your mouth and hummed, "sayin' something?"

the room grew quite, the chattering men that were all over you just a moment ago waited for your answer so patiently. too patiently.

"i-" your throat was sore, words almost dying before they ever got uttered, "n-no."

"no?" bachira mimicked, laughing thereafter as you lay there confused, unsure of their next moves.

"are you tired, pretty?" kunigami rasped, and you would have falsely assumed that they actually cared if it wasn't for the fact that they all went to their administration immediately afterwards.

"a-aah," you panted, mouth falling open as isagi fucked into your overstimulated cunt, "y-yoichi!"

"switch, you bastard." reo's voice dropped down many octaves, a hoarse rasp, and you felt your cunt emptying for just a few moments before it was filled by the mikage industry's heir.

moans tumbled out of your mouth before you filled by someone else. kunigami hissed as you sucked on his cock, taking him so well, "jus' like that, go on."

with his praises, kunigami pressed a harsh hand to the back of your head, making you choke on his length. somewhere along the line, you felt reo abandon your sweet cunt and someone else take his spot. from the man's tight grip on your hips and fast snaps of hip, you assumed the man to be hyoma chigiri.

honestly, you were all but falling apart on their fingertips, and aching cocks. your body was abandoned for a few fractions of a second before a second man laid claim to you. if you could have comprehended, you would have heard their ragged and heavy breaths, pussydrunk words as they passed you among themselves.

as hyoma's thrusts grew in intensity and speed, the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter and tighter— and oh my god, you felt something snap within your body. your head was thrown back, back arching so dangerously as your thighs shook, your mouth fell open and screams tore past your larynx. the next minute, a harsh stream of juices erupted out of your overstimulated cunt, drenching you and everyone around in your glistening juices.

"shi—" rin hissed, almost transfixed at the women utterly ruined under them.

"shit, right?" chigiri almost moaned, looking at the rapid, erratic rise and fall of your chest. your body was marked purple and blue, the men already leaving a mark on you. white, milky streams covered your chest and thighs while your face and neck were painted a reddish hue.

"that was so fuckin' hot." nagi rasped, words raw and twisted.

"hey," isagi mumbled, his words so soft as he finally took off your blindfold, "you good?"

the room was too bright, and above you towered men of colossal intentions, naked and still hungry. as the world above you started making sense, you saw bachira pumping himself leisurely, saw rin map out your body nonchalantly. the rest of them were in similar disheveled states: hungry, lust-filled eyes, flushed faces and erect cocks.

your eyes travelled from one till the other, half of them still splashed with your residue from your earlier orgasm. you found some strength within your tired throat, humming out, "y-yeah."

"ya sure?"

"hm." you nodded, your rapid breathing slowing down and dropping down to a steady crawl.

"good," reo rasped, and bachira finished the statement for him, "cause we're not done with ya."

a/n: let me repeat, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! it has potentially non-likable content, so, if ya don't like, don't read!! okay, that's all. sleep well tonight xoxo tagging: this one is for @5hoe1 @mininji @palegardenrebel [yes, i just needed someone to give me an excuse to write this filth] 🤭 m.list

[wannab-urs]

Title: Handlebars

Pairing: Logan Howlett x f!reader

Summary: Logan teaches you to ride a motorcycle.

Warnings: smut, public/semi-public sex, overstimulation, i know nothing about motorcycles, Logan picks up the reader but he’s a mutant and is superhumanly strong so like… he could pick you up babe, pet names (baby), somewhat dom!Logan but that’s not explicit he’s just bossy, no use of y/n. WC: 1.2k

A/N: This is based on a dream I had because, yes, the brainrot is that bad. Thanks to @pr0ximamidnight for the encouragement to write it and the advice along the way.. And thanks to @just-here-for-the-moment for the beta <3. This is my first ever Logan fic and my first ever non-pedro boy fic as well, so forgive me if it’s OOC or weird.

Logan Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Logan is teaching you to ride a motorcycle. You’ve always been fascinated by them, but the sight of him straddling one really sealed the deal. He looks gorgeous, powerful thighs astride the gently roaring machine. He leans back, gesturing for you to climb on in front of him. 

You throw your leg over carefully and settle onto the bike. His thighs bracket yours and his chest is pressed snugly against your back. It’s already getting dark out, and you’d be worried about driving at night if it wasn’t for the reassuring weight of him behind you. He slides his hands down from your shoulders to your hands and gently places them on the handle bars. 

“I’ll take care of shifting the gears this time, you just focus on the throttle.” You’re not sure you can focus on anything with him this close, but you nod anyway. 

He kicks up the kickstand and starts walking the bike backward onto the road. You hold on for dear life. He shifts the gears as he helps you turn the throttle. You’re nervous as hell, but he keeps a steady grip on your hands. You start to settle into the feeling of driving and your mind drifts. You think about his body pressed against yours, about the steady vibration of the motor between your legs, and you start squirming. 

It’s dark out and you can barely see a thing outside of the range of the headlight. But you feel everything, almost as if your senses are heightened. You grind against his erection, inadvertently pressing your clit harder against the seat and you whimper. 

“Pull over,” he growls in your ear. 

You nod, his nose brushing your neck, and slow down. You guide the bike into a seemingly abandoned parking lot. Logan turns the bike off and drops the kickstand. He pulls you tight against his body. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you right here? Out in the open?”

“Please,” you whine. 

“Lean forward,” he commands, his voice so low you barely hear him. 

You lean forward, lifting your hips. You hear him unsheathe a claw and you tense slightly. He carefully slices a hole in your leggings and panties, exposing you to the night air. 

“I liked these, Logan.”

“I’ll buy you more.” That’s all the warning you get before he sheathes his claw and buries two fingers inside you. 

You cry out, gripping the handlebars hard. He steadies you with a gentle grip on your waist while he fucks his fingers in and out of you, You’re soaking wet and already desperate, grinding down on his fingers. His hand on your waist slips down and finds your bundle of nerves. Your left hand drops from the handlebars to grip his wrist as his fingers circle your clit. Your fingernails dig in hard enough to leave marks on anyone but him and your cunt pulses around his thick digits. He hits the spongy part deep inside you, making you shake and whine as you come on his fingers. 

While you catch your breath, Logan unzips his jeans. He grips your waist in his huge hands and lifts you with his superhuman strength, easily spearing you on his cock. Even with the preparation, he stretches you almost painfully. Your hands search for something, anything, to hold on to and land on the handlebars again. After giving you a moment to adjust, he starts bouncing you on his cock. You moan loudly and his grip on you tightens. 

“Feel good, baby? Filthy thing, riding me out in the open like this.”

You aren’t capable of speaking, not with his cock hitting you so deep inside. You’re not really riding him so much as he’s using you like a fleshlight. Your eyes roll back into your head as you come on his cock. He doesn’t stop bouncing you until your cunt stops clenching around him. His hand presses firmly in the middle of your back, pushing you forward until your head is past the handlebars. 

“Give me one more,” he orders. “Not done with you yet.”

You’re powerless to deny him, and really you’d give him anything he asked for. He wraps one arm around your waist and brings the other hand to your clit again. He pounds up into you, setting a brutal rhythm and hitting a spot that makes your vision white out. You cling to the handlebars for stability, crying out as his tip hits your cervix. You tense up in his arms, whole body going taut with ecstasy.  

“That’s it baby, come for me,” he growls. 

The rolling waves of pleasure feel endless, still speared on Logan’s cock as he fucks into your clenching pussy. His grip on you tightens impossibly, bruisingly as he floods your cunt with his cum. You cry out, writhing in his arms. When you finally come down, Logan’s strong arms pull you back against his chest. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder.

“Are you okay, baby?” Logan’s voice is tinged with worry. 

You nod weakly and mumble a yes into the chilled air. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“Mm mm,” you slowly shake your head from side to side. He didn’t hurt you, you’re just completely overwhelmed. 

He gently lifts you off his slowly softening cock, keeping an arm around you as he tucks himself away. He holds you tight against him until you eventually come back down to earth. You press a chaste kiss to his neck and nuzzle against him a bit before sitting up. You grip the handlebars again and wince as your oversensitive clit presses into the seat. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Logan asks, lifting the kickstand and starting the bike up. 

You whimper as the vibrations of the motor course through your body but bite your lip and nod.

“Hang on tight, baby. I’ll get us home.” You can almost hear Logan’s smirk.

Again nestled between Logan’s thick thighs and pressed firmly against his broad chest, but now with your bare cunt pressed into the seat of the bike, the ride home is absolute, exquisite torture. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, making a mess of what remains of your leggings and the seat beneath you. You’re shaking by the time you make it back to your apartment. 

Logan parks the bike and shuts it off. He climbs off and helps you to your feet. You stumble a little but manage to stay upright with his help, giggling to yourself at your jello legs. You unlock the door of your apartment and you’ve barely stepped inside before Logan sweeps you off your feet. 

“I can walk, Logan. Seriously, I’m fine.”

He huffs and carries you to the bedroom. “I know, but I want to take care of you.”

He lays you gently on the bed, unlaces and removes your boots, and strips off your ruined leggings. Left only in a t-shirt, you watch him methodically remove his clothing and admire his thickly muscled torso. The smattering of hair on his broad chest glinting silver in the moonlight – he’s so perfectly gorgeous you can hardly stand it. 

He crawls into bed beside you and pulls you against his chest. He grabs your thigh and pulls it across his body so that you’re nearly laying on top of him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fall asleep in his arms, wondering if he’ll make you clean the bike seat tomorrow.

part two

[runa-falls]

after dark

summary: he wants you. and he knows you need him.

pairing: geneticist!miguel o'hara x intern!reader

rating: explicit [18+] - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

cw: dark!miguel, dub/non-con elements, somnophilia, dacryphilia, drugging, afab!reader, stalking, obsession, smut, slight size kink, piv sex, creampie, breeding kink, gaslighting (?), a bit of dumbification, miguel's nano-suit in action!

wc: ~1.7k

a/n: this is my submission for @romana-after-dark's dead dove december event!

masterlist

---

Despite the obnoxious number of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals on your bed, your body is completely uncovered. A sweet scene reserved for his eyes only. 

You're curled up with your shirt shoved up to your chest, displaying your barely there panties that cling to your curves. Your body shivers unconsciously as a shadowed form cascades over your sprawled figure. He steps closer, his broad body blocking the moonlight that streams in through the window.

So unsuspecting. So…pure.

You nuzzle your face into your pillow with a sleepy sigh, body soft and relaxed, completely unaware of his presence. His claws dig into his palm as he holds himself back from touching you. 

You've always been a tease, showing up to work with those naive eyes and sweet smiles. More than once, your fingers have brushed against his as you shyly handed him a cup of coffee, mumbling an adorable, "For you, Dr. O'Hara", before scurrying away.

Red eyes glow as you move to lay on your back, legs falling apart to show him how the fabric of your underwear presses perfectly against the softness of your cunt. Your arms lazily stretch above your body, resting against the mess of your hair on the pillow. He seethes at the sight of your tits, barely shielded by your t-shirt.

You want this. 

He's sure of it. 

You're practically begging for it with how sweet you smell.

A hand lightly brushes against your abdomen, moving methodically so the sudden touch doesn't accidentally wake you. A finger hooks the underside of your shirt and tugs it over the curve of your tits, revealing your pebbling buds to the cool air. Sensitive.

He swallows down a groan as he captures a tit in his hand and softly squeezes the soft mound. You arch your back against his thumb as it barely flicks over your nipple and a soft whimper slips from your pouty lips against your pillow.

His other hand palms over his covered cock as it throbs desperately at the sight. Damn, you're a heavy sleeper.

Miguel lets his touch drift lower, teasing at the waistband of your underwear. He traces that cute little bow in the front, a symbol of innocence above a needy cunt. You’re so cute, acting all pure when all you really need is a big cock to fill you up. 

Two fingers press gently against your covered folds, prodding where you need him the most. You’re already wet for him, drenching the light fabric with your slick. He lightly tugs the underwear out of the way, needing to feel your sloppy cunt suck around his thick fingers.

Pulsing fangs dig into his bottom lip as he reveals your pussy, glistening so ethereally under the moonlight. He spreads your slick over your folds, mesmerized by the mess as you drip nectar onto the mattress below. God, you’re soaked. Even unconscious, you’re a desperate slut who’d take anything to be filled and bred. 

He attempts to push a finger inside of you, tenderly nudging at your entrance until he can ease the tip of his index finger inside your hot core. About halfway in, your body stiffens and your legs instinctively spread apart. 

You’re trying to let him in. You’re inviting him.

With more space, it’s easier to push in, to bury his finger until you’re wrapped around him. You feel so good, so wet and hot, perfectly tight around his finger. He can’t wait to feel the vice of your cunt around his cock.

Slowly, he pulls out, staring at the glistening tops of his knuckles, your mark on him. You let out a pretty sigh, so light and pleasurable and real that he’s afraid you woke up, but still you don’t open your eyes. 

Miguel pushes back in, just as slow, but this time at an angle. The tip of his finger drags against the top wall of your cunt and your pussy flutters around him. This time you let out a rough moan, involuntary, but so delicious. You’re so responsive to him.

His mouth waters as the heady scent of your lust calls him to coax more pretty sounds and messy slick from your body. He nearly turns you over to shove his cock into you, needing to feel your cunt swallow him until you’re staining your pillowcase with drool and tears.

He needs more. But he also needs you to cooperate. 

He leans over the side of the bed and hovers over your figure. His fangs throb under his top lip as he gets closer to you. He brushes your hair to the side, exposing your neck, eyeing the spot where your throat meets your shoulder. 

He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder before laving his tongue against his target area, your sweet taste egging him on. Your body shivers with sensitivity as his hot mouth works over your skin, but you stay asleep. Your lack of awareness gives him the confidence to take the bite.

An involuntary moan rumbles up from his chest as his fangs sink into your soft skin. Miguel has to hold onto your arms before he gets carried away from the feeling. Your head involuntarily tilts to the side to give him more access to your neck as your body throbs, and you groan as a wave of pain, pleasure, and shock fills your senses.

Your eyes flutter open when the bed dips next to you announcing his presence, but all you can see is scarlet eyes staring down with curiosity. Your mind is foggy as you try to sit up, but your body stays flat on the mattress, feeling heavy and helpless. 

"Hmn…?"

Miguel coos lightly against your shoulder, “Shh…don’t worry, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”

You recognize that drawl, but you've never heard him so low and rough, “O’H-Hara?” You try to cover yourself with your blanket, slowly moving against whatever is holding you back, but he holds onto your wrist to stop your movements. “Wha–” You choke on your words as a sudden bout of heat spreads throughout your body.

The tingling hot sensation is overwhelming as it settles onto the surface of your skin. It makes your head fuzzy and susceptible.

"Let me help you..." Miguel settles over you and grinds his hips against yours, pinning you against your bed. He's hard against you, thick cock perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of his suit that's barely acting as a barrier between you. Your ruined underwear is still shoved to the side as he ruts himself against your cunt.

"Doctor..." Your body is immediately on fire, reacting mindlessly to his touch. You mewl wordlessly, arching your back and pressing harder against him. You don't know what's happening to your body. All you know is that you need more. "Please." It's a broken plea that leaves your tired lips.

There's an unbearable heat between your legs, but his body prevents you from pressing your legs together and reducing the intense feeling. He squeezes your wrists as you squirm under him, huffing in lustful frustration.

He whispers something above your ear that your scrabbled mind can't decipher, "Suit, Code Zero, Confirm."

But it doesn't really matter what he said when his bare body is finally pressing against you. He doesn't even have to line himself up before his aching cock is rubbing against your dripping folds, tip bumping so softly, yet earth-shatteringly, against your clit. “You don’t have to beg anymore, baby, I’ve got you…”

You cry out when he notches his cock against your entrance. He presses in slowly, letting you feel how completely he stretches you out. Miguel bites back a smile when he feels your legs shake against his hips. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, mi vida?" His voice is nearly a growl with how it drips with darkness.

You nod, eyes blearily searching his, wondering when he'll finally bottom out. Miguel watches your eyebrows scrunch together as you struggle with the intense pressure of him pushing in.

Adorable.

He groans when his hips finally meet yours, filling you to the brim. He doesn't waste time before beginning to move against you, fucking his cock into you over and over until you're eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

He doesn't stay gentle for long, easily losing himself to the feeling of your perfect little pussy wrapped around him. You can hear the distinct sound of his hips smacking against your thighs complimented by his rhythmic sopping jabs as he fucks you baselessly into your mattress.

It's all so much that you don’t even notice the tears that run down the sides of your heated cheeks onto the pillow under your head.

But he does.

"Feels that good, hm?" He teases, "Such a weepy baby. Can't even take a good fucking without cryin'." A raspy groan vibrates against you when your cunt accidentally flutters around him, unable to hold back against the pleasure he's forcing into your body. "Tell me you need me, cariño."

"I--" You try to hold yourself back from the edge, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of playing your body so perfectly, but then he rolls against you so fluidly, hitting that explosive spot inside of you.

"Go on, baby." Miguel encourages, "Say. It." He punctuates each word with a stabbing thrust right where you need him.

"Mngg..." Your cunt tightens impossibly hard around him as white fills your vision. A grated moan is squeezed out of your throat as you reach nirvana, every ounce of energy pushed out in one final bout. 

You don't mean to cum, you don't even want to, but you have no control over your body.

You go boneless as he continues to fuck you, harsh strokes against your weak body. "Mm, I’m gonna fill you up so good, cariño." Your body stiffens, quickly pulled out of your temporary state of euphoria from his words, "...Gonna fuck a baby into this pussy so you'll never leave me."

You try to shove yourself out of his hold, but his hold is too strong.

"W-wait, Dr. O--"

"It's Miguel." He growls out.

"Don't -- not inside --" Miguel ignores your pleas, letting go of one wrist to place his hand over your mouth. You can't do anything against his large body as he frantically ruts into you, taking everything he wants and more.

"You want this," He huffs. "You need me, baby. Need to be filled up and taken care of." He gives a few more hard, sloppy thrusts before shoving himself deep inside and painting your cunt with his cum.

[misswynters]

Gilded Cage part two

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You're parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You're mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That's when you first met ekko, the firelights' leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. "enemies to lovers"

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, drugs, kissing, death!, suggestive, kinda grinding against each other (clothed tho), angst

requested. by anon

a/n. it's more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) let me know if there’s any mistakes so i may fix it.

Darkness. An oppressive, suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly. You floated in its cold embrace, weightless yet crushingly burdened by the weight of your own thoughts. Memories flickered like dying embers, elusive and fragmentary. You could barely recall where you had been, what had happened, or how you had ended up here. The edges of recollection teased you: Ekko’s voice, steady and warm, calling your name. The heavy press of bodies at the Last Drop, the tang of alcohol mingling with smoke. Then a sharp, searing sting in your neck—and the world spiraling into oblivion. Now, you were adrift, lost in a sea of disjointed images and emotions.

Your mind was an unrelenting storm, twisting and turning with fears and insecurities you thought you had buried long ago. The sound of Margot’s cruel laughter cut through the fog like a blade, her words threading through your subconscious like venom. “He doesn’t care about you,” her voice echoed, dark and mocking. “You’re nothing to him.” You wanted to fight against it, but the darkness clung to you, invasive, as it dragged you deeper. Somewhere, faint and distant, there were voices that were sharp and unfamiliar. They seemed to be arguing, but the words were muffled.

“She’s worth more alive,” one voice said, cutting through the haze like a knife, dragging you closer to consciousness.

“Though, Dead might be less trouble,” another replied, cold and indifferent, a tone that sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

The words clawed at the edges of your awareness, snapping you back toward the surface of reality. Your body felt heavy, impossibly sluggish, but you fought against the pull of unconsciousness with everything you had. It was as if your mind and body were at war, one was desperate to wake up and the other held captive by a paralyzing weight. Slowly, agonizingly, your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh glare of a fluorescent light stabbed into your vision.

The room around you was cold and unforgiving, bathed in the sterile glow of artificial lighting that illuminated every inch of its metallic surfaces. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and oil, and beneath it all lingered something acrid and chemical, clinging to your nostrils like a warning. The faint hum of machinery thrummed in the background, a low, ominous noise that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You tried to move, but your arms were pinned to the cold metal chair beneath you, thick leather straps biting into your wrists. A matching set bound your ankles, and as you tested the restraints, they didn’t budge an inch.

A spike of panic shot through you as the reality of your situation set in. Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as your eyes darted around the room. The Chem Barons loomed before you, seated around an oval table at the far end of the room. The glow from the monitors lining the walls illuminated their faces, casting their expressions in stark relief. Each face was a mask of greed, malice, and twisted amusement, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they spoke about you as though you weren’t even there.

“She’s valuable,” one of them said, his voice carrying a sickening undertone of satisfaction. “Alive, she’s worth a fortune to topside. They’ll pay anything to get their hands on her.”

“Dead might be easier to deal with,” another replied, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “Still worth a decent haul. Less risk of her escaping, too.”

Your stomach churned as their words sank in. You were a prize to them, nothing more than a commodity to be traded for wealth and power. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to get out, but the restraints held firm no matter how hard you pulled. Your breathing quickened as you struggled, the leather cutting into your skin, and the faint taste of blood rose in your throat.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The smooth, taunting voice cut through the air like a blade, and your gaze snapped to the woman standing at the table. Margot. Her presence was magnetic in the worst way, her movements deliberate and calculated as she leaned casually against the table, arms crossed over her chest. Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes alight with cruel amusement as she studied you, like a predator toying with its prey.

“Well, well,” she said, pushing off the table and taking a slow step toward you. “The perfect little topsider, all tied up and helpless. Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

You glared at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response, but the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she were amused by your defiance. She began to circle you, her heels clicking against the floor with each measured step, her presence oppressive and suffocating.

“Do you know where your little hero is right now?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. “Out there, playing the savior for Zaun. That’s his priority, isn’t it? Always has been. Zaun this. Zaun that.”

It seemed like the world around you shifted, like a bad dream slowly releasing its hold on you. And there it was, the overwhelming effects of the shimmer. Oh the pounding in your head, twisting of your thoughts, and voices echoing in your ears. Then it began to fade. It felt like dragging yourself out of quicksand, every inch a battle as clarity tried to surface through the chaos. Your breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving as the purple haze in your vision began to lift.

Dim lights suffocated the room, illuminated by the faint flicker of old industrial lights dangling above. The Chem Barons lounged around the oval table, their laughter low and cruel as they watched your struggle with detached amusement. The factory scent in the air, mingled with the acrid sting of chemicals you didn’t want to identify.

Margot leaned casually against the table, twirling the now-empty syringe between her fingers with an air of smug satisfaction. Her lips curled into a grin that sent a wave of anger through you, though your body was too weak to act on it.

“Looks like you’re finally coming down,” she remarked, her tone almost conversational. “I’ll admit, I was worried for a moment there. Would’ve been a shame if you’d overdosed before we made use of you.”

You glared at her through the haze of exhaustion, your teeth clenched as you struggled to steady your breathing. “Go to hell,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and raw.

Margot chuckled, pushing off the table to approach you. “Feisty, even now. I like that,” she said, crouching in front of you so that her face was level with yours. Her eyes gleamed with twisted delight as she reached out, gripping your chin tightly between her fingers to force you to look at her.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her voice low and almost admiring. “But spirit won’t save you. You’re nothing more than a bargaining chip now.”

You jerked your head away from her grasp, the movement sharp despite the lingering weakness in your body. Margot let out an amused laugh as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart,” she began, her tone turning more like one of a businessman’s. “We hand you over to topside. You get to enjoy whatever punishment they’ve got waiting for you, and we get our prize money. It’s a win-win, really.” The other Chem Barons murmured their approval, the greed in their voices unmistakable.

You stared at her, your chest tightening with rage. “You really think I’d agree to that?” you spat, your voice laced with venom.

Margot shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching into a mocking smirk. "Oh, I don't need your agreement, darling," she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I was just being polite by giving you the illusion of a choice. Hey, but maybe we can work something out. Give me something useful. A secret, a connection, something, and maybe I don't have to hand you over." Her words were a sick game, a mockery of negotiation. You weren't stupid; you knew she had no intention of letting you go freely. Your anger bubbled over as you leaned forward as much as your restraints allowed, glaring daggers at her.

"I'll see you rot before I help you," you growled, the force of your words surprising even yourself.

Margot's expression darkened, and the smirk fell from her face. For a moment, there was silence, tension crackling in the air like static. Then, without warning, she lashed out, slapping you hard across the face. The sharp sting of her hand against your cheek was enough to make your head whip to the side.

"Stupid girl," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have power here? You think you get to decide anything?" She took a step back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another syringe.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the familiar glow of shimmer inside it, brighter and more concentrated than before.

"No-no, don't," you stammered, panic setting in as she approached.

"Don't what?" she mocked, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. "You already made your choice. Let's see if we can loosen that sharp tongue of yours."

Before you could protest further, she plunged the needle into your neck. Pain shot through your body as the shimmer flooded your veins, an uncontrollable heat spreading through your limbs. You let out a scream, your vision blurring as the drug took hold. The world tilted on its axis, the edges of reality fraying as hallucinations crept in. The Chem Barons' laughter grew distorted, their faces warping into monstrous visages. The room seemed to shrink and expand simultaneously, and the voices in your head (the ones you thought had faded) came roaring back with a vengeance.

You clawed at the arms of the chair, your nails digging into the metal as you tried to anchor yourself. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that it felt like it might burst, and your breathing became erratic.

Margot's voice cut through the chaos, taunting and cruel. "Look at you, squirming like a cornered animal. It's almost poetic."

Your restraints clicked open suddenly, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground. Margot stood over you, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at your trembling form.

"We're taking you topside," she announced, her tone laced with finality.

"Dead or alive, you're worth the same. But I think I prefer you like this, completely broken and barely holding on. It'll make the handoff more entertaining."

Two of her lackeys stepped forward, gripping you under your arms and hauling you to your feet. Your legs wobbled beneath you, the shimmer wreaking havoc on your motor control. The world spun violently as they began dragging you toward the door, your head lolling as you tried and failed to stay upright. Harsh sunlight hit your face like someone slapped you as they pulled you outside. The brightness was disorienting, and you squinted against it, your head throbbing. Air, heavy with the industrial tang of Zaun, and the sounds of machinery mixed with voices. Enforcers.

Ahead, you could see the bridge leading topside, a line of Enforcers waiting at the end with rifles slung over their shoulders. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through you, and you thrashed weakly in the Chem Barons' grip.

"Let me go," you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

Margot walked alongside you, her expression one of smug satisfaction. "Save your strength," she advised mockingly. "You'll need it to grovel when you're thrown at the feet of the Council."

The closer you got to the bridge, the harder your heart pounded. You were barely holding on, your mind teetering on the edge of madness as the shimmer coursed through you. The voices in your head screamed louder, with the fear and anger that threatened to drown you.

Margot leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered "Don't worry, sweetheart. This is just the beginning." You gritted your teeth, determination flickering within you despite the haze.

The journey to Piltover’s inner walls was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Your legs refused to hold you, the shimmer coursing through your veins wreaking havoc on your body. Every step felt like a battle, your limbs trembling as Margot’s goons dragged you forward. The bright sunlight burned your eyes, and the Piltover’s bustling streets added to your disorientation. All of the voices of the enforcers were sharp as they spoke to Margot, thanking her and her men.

“Good work,” one of the officers said, his tone almost bored. “Your payment will be processed soon. We’ll take it from here.”

Margot smirked, her victory evident in her smug posture. She leaned close to you one last time, her voice a low whisper meant only for your ears.

“Enjoy the next chapter, darling,” she sneered. “If you survive, maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond. Instead, you slumped further as the Enforcers took hold of you, their grip cold. You tried to plant your feet, to resist, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and they dragged you forward without hesitation.

Piltovers inner walls loomed ahead, their pristine white stone a stark contrast to the grime and chaos of Zaun. Everything was suffocating, the streets lined with polished brass and bustling citizens who barely glanced your way. The shimmer made it hard to focus, your vision swimming with colors and shadows that didn’t belong.

By the time you reached the Council building, you were on the verge of collapse. The Enforcers hauled you through the ornate doors, their boots echoing loudly against the marble floors. Of course the air would be cold and sterile, filled with the murmur of voices and hurried footsteps as people passed by.

They led you into the grand council chamber, its circular design intimidating and imperial. The room was bathed in warm light from the massive stained-glass windows, depicting Piltover’s history in vibrant detail. At the center was the imposing council table, its surface polished to a mirror shine, where Ambessa Medarda sat like a queen upon her throne.

Beside her were your parents. Your father’s expression was like stone, his cold eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t even glance at you as the Enforcers placed you in one of the chairs facing the council. Your mother, on the other hand, was a picture of worry, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes were wide as they took you in, darting over your disheveled appearance and the faint glow of shimmer in your irises. The moment the Enforcers stepped back, your mother rushed to your side. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless.

“My sweet child,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “I was so worried about you.”

You barely had the strength to return the embrace, but her warmth was a calming sensation to your anxious nerves. She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, her hands cupping your face as she searched your eyes.

“What have they done to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking. Her gaze landed on the faint pink glow in your irises, and you saw her expression shift from relief to horror. “Shimmer…” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Her hands faltered for a moment before she composed herself, but the fear lingered in her eyes. She sat down next to you, her presence a small comfort despite the chaos raging within you. Your father, meanwhile, remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead as if you weren’t even there. His indifference cut deeper than you expected, and your heart sank. He doesn’t care. He never has.

Ambessa’s voice rang out, commanding and unyielding, but the pounding in your head made it impossible to focus on her words. Your mother nudged you gently, her worried expression urging you to pay attention.

“Listen,” she whispered softly, but her voice carried an undertone of dread.

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on Ambessa. Her sharp eyes bore into you as she spoke, her words cutting through the haze.

“You have become a liability,” she declared, her voice devoid of sympathy. “A danger to the order and stability of Piltover. It is the council’s decision that you be sent to Stillwater Hold immediately.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Stillwater Hold, the maximum security, isolation, a prison for those too dangerous to be allowed freedom.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “No, you can’t—”

“This is not up for debate,” Ambessa interrupted coldly, rising to her feet. Her imposing figure seemed to tower over you, her presence suffocating. “You will be placed in isolation, cut off from all outside contact. Perhaps there, you will have time to reflect on your mistakes.”

Your mother’s hand gripped yours tightly, her knuckles white. She looked as if she wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the conflict in her eyes.

Your father, however, barely reacted. He simply stood, his face betraying a flicker of surprise, but nothing more.

As Ambessa turned to leave, the Enforcers moved forward to restrain you once again. Panic clawed at your chest, your mind racing with the implications of her decree. You would be alone, cut off from everything and everyone you cared about. The thought of never seeing Ekko again made your heart ache, but then Margot’s words crept back into your mind.

He doesn’t care about you. He only cares about Zaun. But did he?

You shook your head, trying to dispel the doubt, but it lingered like a shadow. The Enforcers’ hands were rough as they pulled you to your feet, and your mother’s grip slipped away.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you looked at her. “Don’t let them do this.”

The hallway outside the council chambers was dimly lit, while there was golden glow coming from the chamber’s interior. The walls were lined with brass and marble, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the soldiers escorting you. Their grip was unyielding as they dragged you forward, your legs barely able to cooperate. Your body felt heavy, a dull ache spreading through your muscles, but the shimmer in your veins still faintly there. Almost like a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. Unpredictable.

Your mother walked alongside you, her hand clinging tightly to yours as if her touch alone could anchor you in this moment. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, her voice choked by the emotions roiling within her.

“You can’t do this to them,” she pleaded to the soldiers, her words soft but desperate. “They’re not a danger—they’re my daughter.”

The soldiers didn’t respond, their expressions stoic. They marched forward with mechanical precision, their polished armor clinking faintly with each step. You glanced over your shoulder at your mother, her hand tightening around yours as if she sensed the impending separation.

“Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Let me—”

Her words were cut off as the soldiers abruptly stopped, their grip on you tightening. One of them turned to her, his expression a mix of irritation and indifference.

“Ma’am, please step back,” he ordered firmly.

“No,” your mother said, her voice rising in defiance. “I won’t let you take my daughter!”

The soldier’s hand moved to pry hers away from yours, but she held on tighter, her knuckles white. Her desperation was palpable, each of her movements fueled by love and fear.

“Mother,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s okay—”

However, it wasn’t okay and it never would be. With being over dramatic that they would send someone to prison just for being a kind person. What kind of society was piltover, and how you could’ve been so blind.

The soldier’s patience snapped, and he moved to forcibly remove your mother’s hand from yours. The moment he yanked at her wrist, something inside you cracked. All the shimmer that had been bubbling beneath the surface roared to life, seeping in your veins. Heat spread through your body, the sensation almost euphoric.

Before you could think, your body moved on instinct. With a feral growl, you jerked free from the soldiers’ grasp. Your fists flew before you realized what you were doing, one striking the soldier nearest to you with a sickening thud. He staggered back, his helmet clattering to the ground, and you turned on the second soldier with the same ferocity. The shimmer gave you strength you didn’t recognize, each movement fluid and devastating. Your fist collided with the second soldier’s chest plate, sending him stumbling backward into the marble wall with a dull clang. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the shimmer’s intoxicating power coursing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, your limbs felt lighter, faster, and yet there was a wildness to it all, a lack of control that frightened you even as it exhilarated you.

Turning back, you stumbled into your mother’s arms, clutching her tightly as though holding her could tether you to the world and keep the chaos at bay. Her arms wrapped around you immediately, her warmth and familiar scent grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears burned at your eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”

“You will,” she said firmly, her hands gripping your face to make you look at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but her gaze was resolute. “I’ll find a way. I swear to you.”

Her promise felt like a fragile thread in the storm raging inside you. You wanted to believe her, but every step you’d taken since leaving Zaun seemed to lead only to destruction and despair. The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and you turned to see your father striding toward the chaos, his expression carved in stone. His cold eyes scanned the scene: the soldiers disarmed and you clinging to your mother. His lips twisted into a sneer of disgust.

“Enough of this display,” he snapped, his voice laced with venom. “You’re embarrassing yourself, woman.”

Your mother flinched at his tone, her grip on you tightening as though she could shield you from his words. “They’re our daughter!” she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “How can you stand there and act like they mean nothing to you?”

“They don’t,” your father said flatly, his gaze flicking to you as if you were a mere inconvenience. “They’ve chosen to align themselves with filth, with criminals. They’ve disgraced this family, and I will not tolerate it.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and your grip on your mother faltered. The shimmer inside you pulsed violently, responding to your rising anger. You could feel it clawing at the edges of your mind, urging you to lash out, to fight back.

“I never chose this,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You abandoned me long before I ever set foot in Zaun.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, pulling your mother away from you with a firm hand. She resisted, but his grip was unyielding, dragging her back as she cried out in protest.

“Let her go!” you shouted, lunging toward them, but the shimmer’s effects were waning, leaving your body weak and unsteady.

The soldiers had recovered by now, and they seized you once more, their grips like iron. You struggled, but the strength you’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by an aching exhaustion.

“Take them away,” your father ordered coldly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Father, please—”

“You are no child of mine,” he said, cutting you off.

His words echoed in your ears as the soldiers dragged you away, your mother’s cries fading into the distance. Your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest, each beat a reminder of how alone you were. All of the halls blurred around you as you were pulled toward your fate. The shimmer’s residual effects made the world feel surreal, the edges of your vision tinged with purple. Your thoughts spiraled, looping back to the same unbearable truth: no one was coming to save you.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a flicker of defiance remained. The shimmer may have weakened, but it had left something behind. A burning determination not to let them break you. Never.

As you were led toward the transport that would take you to Stillwater, you clenched your fists, vowing to fight for every chance to escape, for every moment to prove them wrong. Whatever happened next, you would not give up. Not yet.

There were occasional crackle of old, sparking wires however the hideout was quiet. It should’ve been comforting, this kind of silence, which was a rare occurrence. But it wasn’t. It never would be, not with you missing.

Ekko sat hunched over his desk in the corner of the workshop, his head resting in his hands. The glow of the green light hanging above cast harsh shadows across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion etched into his features. He hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, not while you were out there somewhere, alone. Or worse. Dead.

The thought of what could be happening to you tightened his chest. It wasn’t like you to not come back without a word, and the reality of your disappearance had hit him like a freight train. He could still see you in his mind, sitting across the room from him with that subtle smirk you always wore when teasing him. You were always a little guarded, but he could read the warmth in your eyes when you let your guard down around him. That warmth haunted him now.

He slammed a fist down on the table, rattling a collection of discarded tools and blueprints. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

The door to the hideout creaked open, and Scar stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the floor. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, he knew better than to try when Ekko was like this.

“Any word?” he asked without looking up, his voice clipped.

Scar hesitated. “Not good news.”

Ekko turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Spit it out.”

Scar exhaled, crossing his arms. “Word on the street is there’s a bounty on their head. Big money, too. Dead or alive.”

For a moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You heard me,” Scar said, his tone softer now. “Ambessa is the one behind it. And who else would want that good amount of money other that the chem-barons. So if I had to bet…”

“Margot,” Ekko growled, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger surged through him.

“Yeah,” Scar said. “She’s got her hands in everything these days. If anyone’s got the resources to snatch someone up, it’s her.”

Ekko couldn’t think. He grabbed the edge of the desk and flipped it in one violent motion, sending tools, papers, and scraps of metal crashing to the floor. Scar didn’t flinch. He’d seen him lose his temper before, though never like this.

“They took my friend!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “They were safe, or at least I thought they were. I should’ve—” He stopped himself, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“You couldn’t have known,” Scar said cautiously.

“I should’ve kissed them when I had the chance,” Ekko muttered bitterly, his voice barely audible.

Scar raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his admission. “Wait, you mean—”

“Don’t,” Ekko interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need his commentary, not now.

Scar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, boss, I get it. You care about them. We all do. And tearing yourself apart isn’t gonna bring them back. You need to focus.”

“I am focused,” Ekko snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’ve been doing everything I can to find them. I’ve been working nonstop! But every second that goes by, they could be—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Scar stepped closer, his voice softening. “We’ll find them, Ekko.”

Ekko turned away from his second-in-command, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his responsibilities as a leader, as someone who cared about you more than he was willing to admit, was crushing him. He thought back to all the moments he could’ve told you how he felt. How he should’ve told you. Now, he might never get the chance.

“Do we have any leads?” he asked after a long silence, his voice low.

“Nothing solid,” Scar admitted. “But I’ll keep digging. And so will the others.”

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. If Margot had you, then time was running out. He’d seen what the chem-barons were capable of, how they toyed with their captives before discarding them like garbage. The thought of you in their clutches made his stomach churn. He clenched his fists again, his knuckles white.

As Scar left to rally the others, Ekko sat back down amidst the chaos he’d created, staring at the mess of blueprints and tools scattered across the floor. He picked up a small gadget you’d been working on before you disappeared. It was a half-finished invention with wires sticking out at odd angles.

He turned it over in his hands, a lump forming in his throat. You were always so brilliant, so determined to make a difference in this broken city. How could he have let this happen to you?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you back.” The promise felt hollow in the silence of the room, but it was all he had.

Smoky air filled around the abandoned factory that thick with decay, the scent of rust and mildew clinging to the walls like an oppressive fog. Inside, the dim light of a single hanging bulb swung precariously, casting jagged shadows across the cavernous space. Crates were scattered haphazardly, some half-opened to reveal pilfered goods and shimmer vials, their contents glowing faintly. Laughter and the clink of glasses echoed faintly, a mocking contrast to the somber silence of the building’s other corners.

Ekko crouched in the shadows near a crumbling brick wall, his mask concealing his expression but failing to hide the fury radiating from him. His staff was collapsed and strapped to his back, ready to be wielded at a moment’s notice. He had been tracking Margot’s operations for days, every lead bringing him closer to you. This factory, this desolate place reeking of despair, was supposed to be your last known location.

Inside, three men sat around a makeshift table fashioned from a wooden pallet and a few stacked crates. They were laughing uproariously, playing cards, and passing a bottle of cheap wine between them. Their demeanor was casual, careless. They had no reason to suspect that death itself was crouched a few feet away, waiting.

Ekko’s fingers flexed over the edge of the wall, the faint creak of leather gloves breaking the ambient noise. The goons’ laughter paused, one of them squinting into the shadows. “You hear that?” he muttered, his hand hovering near his knife.

Ekko stepped into the light, his mask catching the faint glow of the overhead bulb. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his presence was anything but. The sight of him was enough to make the men freeze, their drunken haze evaporating in an instant.

“Don’t move,” Ekko said, his voice low and cold, like the steel of a blade. He tilted his head slightly, a predatory gesture that sent shivers down their spines. “I’ve got questions, and you’re going to answer them. If you try to run, you won’t get far.”

One of the men, the burliest of the three, leaned back in his chair with a forced laugh, trying to mask his unease. “Questions, huh? You don’t look like an enforcer, kid. What do you want from us?”

Ekko’s fingers twitched, but he kept his composure. “Where is she?”

“Who?” another man asked, feigning ignorance as he leaned forward, his greasy smile exposing yellowed teeth. “We’ve got a lot of ‘shes’ around here. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Ekko took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots deliberate and sharp against the concrete floor. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you took. The one Margot had dragged out of Zaun. Where is she?”

The men exchanged glances, their bravado faltering under the weight of Ekko’s presence. But it wasn’t fear that made them hesitate, it was cruelty. Disgusting.

“Oh,” the burly man said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You mean your little girlfriend. Didn’t think a leader like you would be so sentimental. What’s it like, knowing Margot’s had her claws in her?”

Ekko’s grip on his staff tightened, though he didn’t extend it. Not yet. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his voice like gravel. “… She’s under my protection, which means you’ve made a very big mistake.”

The third man, younger than the others and visibly more nervous, chuckled weakly. “Margot did more than protect her. Injected her full of shimmer. Changed her forever.” He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. “You should’ve heard her screaming. Begging for it to stop.”

Ekko’s vision got blurred. He didn’t remember crossing the room, but suddenly his hand was around the throat of the younger man, slamming him against the wall with a force that made the other two jump to their feet.

“I said sit down!” Ekko roared, his voice echoing through the factory like a thunderclap. The other two hesitated, their bravado crumbling as they realized just how dangerous this masked vigilante was. Slowly, they lowered themselves back into their seats, though their hands hovered near their weapons.

Ekko released the younger man, letting him crumple to the ground in a coughing heap. He turned his attention to the burly one, his body radiating barely contained rage.

“You think this is funny?” Ekko asked, his voice low and menacing. “You think I won’t rip this place apart to find her?”

“Relax, kid,” the burly man said, though his voice wavered. “You’re not a killer. Everyone knows that.”

Ekko smirked beneath his mask, though there was no humor in it. “You’re right. I’m not. But I don’t need to kill you to make you wish you were dead.”

With a flick of his wrist, he extended his staff and brought it down on the man’s hand with bone-shattering force. The sickening crunch was followed by a howl of pain, and the man clutched his mangled hand to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

“Now,” Ekko said, his voice icy. “Where. Is. She?”

The younger man scrambled to his knees, babbling incoherently. “She’s—she’s gone! Taken to Piltover! The boss wanted to claim the prize money! Please, man, that’s all I know!”

Ekko turned to him, his eyes burning with fury. “Where in Piltover?”

“I don’t know!” the man cried, his hands raised in surrender. “I swear, I don’t know! They took her meet ambessa at the council meeting! That’s all we heard before they left!”

Ekko studied him for a long moment, then stepped back, his staff retracting with a metallic click. “If I find out you’re lying,” he said coldly, “I’ll be back. And you won’t like what happens next.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. The factory’s silence returned, but Ekko’s mind was anything but quiet.

You were in Piltover. That much he knew. But the thought of what they might be doing to you, how far they’d gone already, made his blood boil. He blamed himself for letting this happen, for not being there to stop it.

“I’ll find you,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the factory. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you home.”

Shivering. The cold was the first thing you noticed. It crept into your bones and settled like a permanent ache, no matter how tightly you wrapped the thin blanket around yourself. The steel walls of your cell reflected nothing but your own hollow gaze, distorted in the warped metal like a ghost haunting itself. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzed incessantly, a monotonous drone that filled the silence.

Days bled into one another. Or were they weeks? Months? You couldn’t tell anymore. Food was delivered regularly, the plates piling up untouched on the small tray by the door. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the idea of eating felt impossible. It reminded you of before, of when Ekko had kissed you, then left you in an agonizing limbo of uncertainty.

Back then, you had at least been free. You could wander through Zaun, trying to escape the heartache in the neon haze of the Undercity. Now, there was no escape. No Ekko. No freedom. Just you and the cold steel cage that held you prisoner.

You sat on the edge of the cot, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The shimmer coursing through your veins was a cruel reminder of what had been done to you. It pulsed like molten fire, burning and twisting your thoughts. Your body ached, muscles spasming unpredictably, leaving you weak and trembling.

The voices were the worst. They came in waves, some screaming accusations, others whispering taunts.

“He’s forgotten you.”

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

“This is what you deserve.”

“Shut up!” you yelled, pressing your palms to your ears. But they didn’t stop. Instead, they multiplied.

“You’ll never see him again.”

“He’s better off without you.”

“You’re better off dead.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, hot against the cold air, as you rocked back and forth. You hated yourself for crying, for being weak, for breaking under their weight. But there was no one here to tell you otherwise. No one to hold you and say it would be okay.

You slammed the back of your head against the wall behind you, the dull thud grounding you for only a moment before the spiral began again. The sobs came harder now, wracking your body as you curled into yourself.

“Leave me alone,” you begged the voices, but they only laughed in response. And then, faintly, you heard something else.

“Hey!” The voice echoed down the corridor outside your cell, distant but distinct. Your head snapped up, your breath hitching as you strained to listen.

“Who’s there?” you croaked, your throat dry and raw from disuse.

The faint sound of footsteps grew louder, steady and purposeful. You squinted into the dim hallway, trying to make out the figure approaching the barred door.

“Leave me alone!” you cried again, shaking your head, convinced it was another hallucination. The shimmer had twisted your mind before; why would now be any different?

But the figure didn’t fade. Instead, it became clearer. Taller. Familiar. The scent of machine oil and faint traces of herbs reached you before the figure did, stirring something deep in your chest. Your heart raced as the figure came closer, the flickering light catching on the unmistakable outline of his goggles, his scarf, the curve of his jaw.

“Ekko?” you whispered, gripping the railing of your cot as you pulled yourself to your feet.

The figure stopped just beyond the bars, his hands curling around them as he leaned forward. “It’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

“No,” you said, shaking your head violently. “You’re not real. You’re just—just another trick!”

“I’m real,” he said, his voice firmer now. “It’s me. See! Look at me.”

You stumbled forward, your legs weak and unsteady, until you reached the door. Your hands gripped the cold metal bars, your eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. But there was none.

“Ekko,” you breathed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His hand covered yours, warm and grounding. “Hi,” he whispered, his voice thick with relief.

You choked on a sob, your knees buckling as you slid down to the floor. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” he said, his other hand slipping through the bars to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “In the flesh.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the cold that had consumed you for so long. “I thought…” You hiccupped, struggling to form the words. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought the same,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

Your fingers tightened around his, desperate to hold onto him, to convince yourself that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of your mind. “They said… they said you forgot me.”

“Never,” he said fiercely, his hand gripping yours with equal intensity. “Not even for a split second.”

You buried your face against the bars, your shoulders shaking as the tears came harder. “I’m terrified, Ekko,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You’re real,” he said, his forehead resting against yours through the bars. “I’m real. And I’m getting you out of here.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, anchoring you to the moment. For the first time in weeks, the voices fell silent. All you could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the unspoken vow in his gaze.

The air in Stillwater Hold was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of damp metal and the faint tang of saltwater. The dim, flickering lights overhead buzzed like angry insects, casting ghostly shadows on the cold steel walls. Ekko stood outside your cell, gripping the large brass key in his hand, his knuckles white with tension. His mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.

He glanced at you through the bars, his heart breaking at the sight of your frail form. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, your skin pale and your frame too thin. The shimmer’s effects were evident in the faint tremors in your hands and the shadows beneath your eyes, but there was still a spark in your gaze, a fragile but unyielding fire.

He took a steadying breath and inserted the key into the lock, his movements quick but not careless. The lock groaned in protest, a sharp metallic screech echoing in the corridor.

“How did you get that?” you asked, your voice hoarse but laced with curiosity.

Ekko’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the weight of the moment kept it from fully forming. “Long story,” he said, his tone light but tinged with weariness. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him. You could tell from the shadows in his eyes that whatever he’d done to get here hadn’t been easy.

He jiggled the key, muttering a low curse under his breath. “Of course, it has to be the trickiest damn lock in the whole place,” he murmured. You almost laughed at his frustration, the sound foreign and strange in this place of despair.

Finally, with a heavy clunk, the lock gave way, and the cell door creaked open. Before Ekko could fully process his success, you surged forward, throwing yourself into his arms with all the strength you could muster. The momentum knocked him off balance, and the two of you tumbled to the cold floor, his back hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, the breath knocked out of him for a moment. But then his arms tightened around you instinctively, cradling you against his chest as though you might disappear if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your thin arms clinging to him desperately. “Don’t let me go,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course not,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head. He felt how much lighter you were, how your ribs pressed against him like fragile bird bones. It was like holding a shadow of the person he remembered, and it made his chest ache with guilt and sorrow.

Your tears soaked into his scarf as you cried harder, your sobs wracking your frail body. “I thought—I thought I’d never see you again,” you stammered, your words broken by hiccups. “I thought I was going to die here.”

Ekko tightened his hold on you, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Not a chance,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to stay strong. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face inches from his. “I missed you so much,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The raw emotion in your voice cut through him like a knife, and he cursed himself for not finding you sooner. “Well no need to worry now,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “Im never going to leave your side”

Your arms tightened around him as if you were afraid he might vanish. “I’m never letting you go again,” you vowed, your voice trembling but resolute.

“I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you close.

As the flood of emotions began to ebb, a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Ekko’s mouth. “By the way,” he said, his tone lightening just enough to catch your attention, “your mom’s got some stories.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My mom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Xerah Arvino. Fancy name, by the way. She’s got opinions, especially about me.”

You let out a weak laugh, the sound surprising both of you. “What did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice teasing. “She might’ve mentioned how you feel about me. Called you out, really.”

Your cheeks burned, the warmth of embarrassment cutting through the cold that had settled in your body for so long. “She didn’t,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Oh, she did,” he said, his smirk widening. “Guess she wanted to make sure I wasn’t oblivious.”

Despite your exhaustion, you managed a small laugh. “She’s always been… direct.”

“I like her,” Ekko admitted, his tone softening. “But you, Firefly…” He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. “I knew. I’ve always known.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. “You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” he replied, his voice filled with equal parts affection and disbelief. “You’re my light in the dark. Always have been.”

The warmth of his gaze, the steadiness of his presence, filled the void inside you that had felt so bottomless. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed you might actually be okay. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as his hand stroked your back in soothing circles.

The inside of the air duct was surprisingly spacious, though its tight metallic walls didn’t leave much room for comfort. The hum of machinery vibrated through the structure, and the faint scent of oil and rust lingered in the air. Ekko’s hoverboard hummed softly beneath you, its energy signature blending seamlessly with the subdued mechanical symphony of Stillwater Hold.

“Hold on tight,” Ekko whispered, his voice low and cautious as he steadied the hoverboard under both your weight and his. His body was warm against yours, shielding you from the cold draft in the duct. You obeyed, gripping his waist tightly, your heart racing. Not only just from the escape but from the proximity, his warmth body against your own.

The hoverboard glided smoothly, its propulsion barely making a sound as Ekko maneuvered it through twists and turns. He had memorized the map of this place with a precision that made you marvel at his resourcefulness. You couldn’t help but wonder how many sleepless nights he’d spent planning this.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice steady but his grip on the hoverboard controls firm. His tone, though calm, carried the tension of someone who knew there was no room for error.

After what felt like an eternity, the dim blue light of the exit vent came into view. Ekko slowed the board and leaned forward, pressing a hand against the vent cover. It creaked slightly, and for a moment, you both froze, your breaths held. But when no alarms blared, he pushed harder, and the vent cover fell away, clattering onto the concrete outside.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through your veins. “Let’s go.”

With a quick adjustment, Ekko angled the hoverboard downward, the two of you sliding out of the duct and into the open air. The cold night breeze hit your face like a splash of water, a stark contrast to the stuffy air of the ducts. The stars twinkled above, unbothered by the chaos below, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the promise of freedom.

It took longer than expected to navigate back to your house. The ride was quiet, each of you lost in your thoughts, the weight of the escape pressing heavily on your shoulders. By the time you arrived, the familiar silhouette of the Arvino estate loomed before you, its elegant structure bathed in pale moonlight.

As you approached, panic flashed through your chest. “Ekko,” you said, your voice urgent. “What if someone sees us?”

“They won’t,” he assured you, his tone confident. “Trust me.”

He steered the hoverboard toward a thick cluster of vines that climbed the side of the house near your bedroom window. Landing softly on the grass, he helped you off the board and gestured toward the vines. “Think you can climb?”

You nodded, though your body was weak from weeks of confinement. His hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you just in case you were to fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

With his help, you made your way up the vines, the rough texture scratching at your hands. When you finally reached the windowsill, you pushed it open and climbed inside, tumbling onto the familiar softness of your room. Ekko followed quickly, landing with a quiet grace that made you roll your eyes at his ease.

The moment your feet hit the carpet, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lips. You turned and launched yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the comfort of your pillow. The softness cradled you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Kicking your feet excitedly, you let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and joy. “I can’t believe we made it,” you said, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko leaned against the wall, watching you with a soft smile. His arms were crossed, his frame relaxed for the first time all night. “You look happy,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

You turned over, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling just above the floor. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you replied, your grin infectious. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Ekko pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the plush carpet. His smile remained, but there was something else in his eyes now. Love maybe?

Before you could process his movement, he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and suddenly, he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was mere inches from yours, his breath brushing against your skin.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as his eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. It was as if he was asking for permission without saying a word. “Hmm…” you whispered to yourself thinking about something, your voice barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was fighting to keep his composure.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “Yeah. I just…”

“Just what?” he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small, teasing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the way his presence seemed to fill the room. Slowly, as though giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned closer. The world seemed to fade into the background: the room, the night, the fear and chaos of your escape, until there was only him. Standing infront of you, leaning so close that you could feel him breathe.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips parted, and you nodded, the motion almost imperceptible. And then his lips were on yours, gentle at first. But the moment your hand slid up to curl into his jacket, he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to cup the side of your face. The weight of the world seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by a heat that consumed you, chased away the cold and the fear that had gripped you for so long.

Ekko’s breath was warm against your lips, and when he closed the gap between you, it felt like the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was soft at first, an unspoken confession of everything the two of you had held back for the last few months. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him to believe this was real. His lips moved with a desire that sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gripping your hips as though he never wanted to let go. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his jawline, tracing the sharp angles of his face, grounding yourself in the reality of his handsome face.

"You're lips are so soft," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"I could stay that about yours," you replied breathlessly letting out a small chuckle. Your forehead pressing against his as you both caught your breath.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching yours. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this... of you," he admitted, his voice soft but passionate, as though he needed you to understand the depth of his feelings. Of how much he had felt for you ever since the two of you met.

You smiled, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. "Took you long enough to realize," you teased, though your tone was gentle, almost reverent.

His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest. The air between you grew heavier, more charged, as the kiss became desperate. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low sound from him that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The need that had been simmering between you for so long now threatened to boil over, every touch and every breath. Adding to the fire between you further.

You shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, and the sensation made your cheeks flush. His grip on your waist tightened in response, his other hand cupping the back of your neck as he angled your face to deepen the kiss. His movements were urgent but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment, every sound you made, every way your body fit against his.

Ekko's lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down to your neck, his warm breath sending goosebumps over your skin. His fingers grazed the edge of your shirt, his touch featherlight but electrifying. "I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restrained emotion. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as your hands slid down his back.

Ekko chuckled, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips, this one slower and filled with something deeper. His hands never stopped moving, one tracing lazy circles on your back, the other brushing strands of hair from your face. This moment felt infinite, like the two of you had carved out a space that existed only for the two of you. It wasn't until the door suddenly swung open, flooding the room with light. Startled, you froze, your lips still brushing Ekko's, as you both turned to see Anya standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh-oh my! I'm so sorry!" she stammered, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to- I was just—"

Before either of you could respond, she quickly turned around, flicking the light off as she shut the door behind her with a hurried, "I'll come back later!"

The room went back into the darkness, the only light coming from the moon outside. You and Ekko stared at the closed door for a second, stunned into silence. Then Ekko broke into a quiet laugh. "Well, that's one way to ruin the mood," he said, looking back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You buried your face in his shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. "I am never going to hear the end of this from her," you muttered, your voice muffled.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you as he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. "Hey, at least she knows you're in good hands," he joked, leaning back slightly to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "This isn't funny, Ekko!" you protested, though your tone was far too soft to be convincing.

"Come on," he said, brushing his nose against yours. "It's a little funny."

You couldn't help but laugh then, the tension breaking as you leaned against him, your forehead resting on his. Closing your eyes, the only sound was that of the wind outside.

The early morning light filtered softly through the cracks in the curtains, painting the room in muted hues of gold and pink. The air was still, and there was peace. Ekko’s arm draped securely around your waist as your head nestled against his chest. His warmth was a shield against the cold realities waiting just outside, and in his unconscious state, he held you as if you might disappear. The two of you had found sanctuary, one where, just for a few hours, the chaos of the world couldn’t touch you. The chaos that was caused by just wanting to help others.

That illusion shattered when the door creaked open, followed by the hurried, uneven shuffle of footsteps. The sound pulled Ekko from his slumber instantly. His eyes snapped open, his instincts sharper than ever, and he propped himself up on one elbow just as Anya stumbled into the room. Her hand clutched her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and staining her dress in it. The sight of her broke through the last remnants of your sleep, and you sat up, a chill running down your spine.

“They… they took her,” Anya gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe as she shut it behind her. Her voice was strained, trembling from pain and urgency. “Ambessa. She took your mother. They know… they know what she did.”

“Anya.” Ekko was on his feet in seconds, rushing to her side and steadying her before she could collapse. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the panic swirling just beneath the surface. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—sit down. Let me—”

“No!” Anya interrupted, her voice sharp despite the agony etched across her face. “There’s no time. They’ll come here next. You need to leave. Now.”

You stared at her, frozen in place. Her words echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. Your chest felt tight, your vision narrowing as her message sank in. Your mother. Taken. By Ambessa. It was too much, all of it crashing down like a wave threatening to drown you. You wanted to scream, cry, do something, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. You felt yourself disassociating, retreating into the safety of numbness that you once knew because facing this reality head on was unbearable. As soon as you try to catch a break, there’s always something ruining it. It was almost as if the universe didn’t want to you be happy.

Ekko’s voice broke through the haze. “We can’t just leave you like this!” he said, his frustration mounting as Anya winced and doubled over. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and pressed it against her wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Anya, stay with me. Where is she? Where did they take her?”

“I don't know,” Anya managed, her voice weakening as her knees buckled. “Ambessa… she’s going to lock her away somewhere. She knows what your mother did, how she helped you.” Her gaze shifted to you, her eyes glassy but full of determination. “You need to get out of here before they get here.”

You barely registered the words. The room around you seemed to spin, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Ekko glanced over his shoulder, concern etched across his face as he noticed your vacant expression. “Firefly,” he called softly, but there was no use. Your mind was blocking him completely.

He guided Anya to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands searching for something to stem the bleeding. “Who else was taken?” he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency in his movements.

“Just her,” Anya whispered, wincing as Ekko pressed a cloth against her wound. “I tried to stop them. I swear I did.” She glanced at you then, her eyes filled with an fear that mirrored your own. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get to her.”

You heard the words, but they felt distant, like echoes in a tunnel. Your body moved on autopilot, standing and grabbing a bag, stuffing it with whatever essentials were nearby. Ekko was saying something to you, his voice low and firm, but the words seemed blurred together. It wasn’t until he placed his hands on your shoulders and forced you to meet his eyes that you realized he was trying to snap you out of it.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softening as he searched your face. “We’re getting out of here. You with me?”

You nodded mechanically, though your gaze drifted past him, your focus slipping again. Ekko hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you, but there was no time to dig deeper. He turned back to Anya, his jaw tightening. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, though the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Anya sat there bleeding out with her hand holding her stomach, sadly there was too much blood. This was it for her. Your maid the one who you’ve spend you entire childhood with. Playing dolls, hide and seek, how she would help you with your homework due to yours parents being busy with handling trade routes, businesses and being councilors. You thought of her as an older sister, and now she was gone. Dead. All thanks to Ambessa and your father. That worthless excuse of a father.

After everything that just happened, how were you suppose to enjoy anything. The journey back to the hideout was a blur to you, not even focusing on how you moved above everything. The streets of Piltover passed by in a haze of colors and shapes, the city slowly waking to another day. You stood behind Ekko on his hoverboard, your arms loosely wrapped around his waist, your body moving only when the board shifted beneath you. You didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t even flinch when the wind whipped against your face. The world felt muted, like you were trapped in a dream you couldn’t wake from.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder at you more than once, he had a worried look on his face. He didn’t say anything, every time he caught a glimpse of your glowing pink eyes and their unnatural light, it was a reminder of the shimmer coursing through your veins. He cursed under his breath, his mind racing for a way to bring you back to yourself, to pull you from the darkness that seemed to be consuming you. Slowly dragging you deeper into something he may never be able to help you get out of.

By the time you reached the hideout, the sun was fully up, casting harsh shadows across the abandoned buildings that surrounded the hideout. Ekko helped you down from the hoverboard, his hands lingering on your arms as he steadied you. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t acknowledge him either. He led you inside, the familiar smell filling the air, and guided you to the bed he had made for you when you first arrived.

“Stay here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be right back.”

You sank onto the bed without a word, your gaze fixed on the floor. Ekko watched you for a moment, his heart aching at the sight of you so lifeless, so unlike the fiery, vibrant person he had fallen for. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and helplessness bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Hours passed in silence. The hideout was quiet, the usual activity softened as the other firelights gave you and Ekko space. He stayed close by, tinkering with gadgets and pretending not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. You remained in the same spot, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes staring into the middle of the wall.

As night fell, Ekko finally broke the silence. “You need to eat,” he said, setting a plate of food on the table near the bed.

You didn’t respond, and he sighed, pulling a chair closer to sit beside you. “Listen. I get it,” he said softly. “You feel like it’s all slipping away. Like nothing you do will change what’s happening. But sitting here, shutting down—that’s not you. That’s not the fighter I know.”

His words stirred something deep within you, a faint flicker of the person you used to be. You turned to him slowly, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “What if I can’t do it?”

Ekko’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. “Yes you can,” he said with quiet conviction. “I’m with you every step of the way. We will get your mother back.”

For the first time since the morning, tears welled in your eyes, though they didn’t fall. You nodded, the faintest hint of determination returning to your gaze. Ekko smiled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he stood. “Please firefly. Get some rest,” he said.

When you finally lay down that night, it wasn’t on the makeshift bed Ekko had made for you. You slipped under the covers of his bed, your presence wordless but clear. He hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside you, his arms wrapping protectively around you as you curled against his chest.

You were left in awe. The mural was breathtaking. Ekko had worked on it tirelessly for hours, the paintbrush an extension of his hand as he brought Anya’s face to life on the wall of the hideout. Her eyes sparkled with the same determination you remembered, her smile gentle but firm. Behind her, he painted a swirl of warm, golden hues interspersed with fiery reds, symbolizing her unwavering courage even in the face of death. When he stepped back, covered in smudges of paint, he glanced at you with a quiet kind of sadness.

“She deserved this,” Ekko said, his voice low. “She gave everything to protect you. To protect what’s left of your family.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Standing before the mural, you felt the weight of her sacrifice pressing against your chest. A small, fragile part of you hoped that wherever she was now, she could see this tribute, feel the gratitude and respect that burned through your veins. The only family you had left and yourself and your mother. But how long would that last. What if she were to die, who else would you consider family? You surely wouldn’t think of your father. After everything he did to you. No. It was pointless, you had no family.

Ekko turned to you after a long moment of silence, his expression hardening. “We need to talk about rules,” he said firmly.

You looked up at him confused, as your mind left the empty void it was in. “Rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not to be left alone. Ever. If I can’t be there, one of the Firelights will be with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

The hardness in his tone left no room for argument, but you still tried. “Ekko, I don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his eyes boring into yours. “What happened with your mother? With Anya? That was a wake-up call. We can’t afford to take risks anymore.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. He was right, but the thought of being under constant watch gnawed at your independence. Still, the raw concern in his expression made it impossible to argue further. But knowing how you were, taking risks was going to hard.

“The second rule,” Ekko continued, “is that we plan carefully before doing anything. No impulsive moves. No rushing in without a backup plan—or two, or three. And if things go south, we need to be ready to evacuate the hideout.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of leaving the hideout behind, but you knew it was a necessary precaution. Ekko wasn’t just thinking about you, he was thinking about everyone who relied on him. All the children.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your fingers twitching at your sides. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Ekko relaxed slightly, though his expression remained serious. “Good. Now, there’s something I need to see.”

He motioned to the necklace you wore, the one he had given you weeks ago. You reached for it, pulling it from beneath your shirt, but your hands trembled too much to unclasp it. Wordlessly, Ekko stepped forward, his calloused fingers brushing against your neck as he worked the clasp.

There was a soft click of the necklace unlocking, making a shiver down your spine. Ekko lingered for a moment, his warm breath brushing against your temple before he pressed a gentle kiss there. His touch was grounding, pulling you out of the haze of fear and exhaustion that had consumed you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and leading you back to his place. His workspace was cluttered with scraps of metal, gears, and tools, but the centerpiece was a large box that you hadn’t noticed before. Ekko placed the necklace into a small slot on the box, and with a faint sound, the lid unlocked and slid open.

Inside, nestled in protective padding, was a sleek wrist device. It was compact but intricately designed, with glowing blue accents that pulsed faintly. You stared at it, unsure of what you were looking at.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing up at Ekko.

“It’s a prototype,” he explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “Took me months to design, and I nearly got myself blown up more times than I’d like to admit, but I think it’s ready now.”

Concern flickered across your face. “Blown up? Ekko—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Relax, t’s fine. I’ve tested it. No explosions, I promise.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting him despite your apprehension. “What does it do?”

“It’s a utility device,” he said, picking it up and fastening it around your wrist. “It’s got a tracking function, a distress signal, and a shield generator for emergencies. If anything happens, you activate this, and I’ll find you. No matter what.”

You stared down at the device, the weight of it unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “You did all this for me?”

Ekko’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’d do a lot more if it meant keeping you safe.”

He reached into the box again and pulled out a compact crossbow, its design as sleek and efficient as the wrist device. You stiffened at the sight, your stomach knotting with unease.

“I… I’ve never even held a knife, let alone a weapon,” you admitted, your voice barely whisper.

Ekko looked at you, his expression softening. He placed the crossbow gently on the desk and turned to you, taking both your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding you as his dark eyes searched yours.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he said softly. “And I’m not asking you to become a fighter overnight. But things are different now. The people who did this to your mother, to Anya. They won’t stop. We need to make sure you can protect yourself if it comes down to it.”

You glanced down at the crossbow, then back at Ekko. His words made sense, but the thought of hurting someone, even in self-defense, sent a chill down your spine. Still, the determination in his eyes was infectious. He believed in you, and for him, you would try.

“Okay,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “Teach me.”

Ekko’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of relief in his expression as well. “We’ll start slow,” he promised, picking up the crossbow and turning it over in his hands. “It’s lightweight and compact, so it’s easy to handle. And it’s more for precision than brute force, which suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly despite yourself. “Suits me? You saying I’m weak?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, just saying you’re quick. Smart. You don’t need brute force when you can outthink your opponent.”

He handed you the crossbow, guiding your fingers to the proper grip. His hands were steady as they covered yours, showing you how to aim and adjust the tension on the string. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, the way his focus never wavered.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That’s the key. Steady your hands, focus on your target, and breathe.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your fingers trembling slightly as you raised the crossbow. It felt strange in your hands, foreign and dangerous, but Ekko’s presence steadied you.

After a few practice movements, Ekko took a step back, watching you with a mix of pride and caution. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, crossing his arms. “And when you do, no one’s gonna mess with you.”

You set the crossbow down carefully, exhaling a shaky breath. “Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Ekko shook his head, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “You don’t have to repay me,” he said quietly. “Just promise me you’ll stay alive. That’s all I need.”

The weight of his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. You nodded, swallowing hard. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Ekko reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled back, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll go over more later. For now, you should relax.”

You nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted you felt. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and your body ached for sleep. Ekko led you to the corner of the hideout where your shared bed was now set up. You were tired for days, beyond exhaustion. Surprisingly now, you liked to sleep. Maybe, it was because of your lack of energy.

As you lay down, Ekko pulled a blanket over you, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Stay with me,” you whispered.

Ekko hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He kicked off his boots and slid under the blanket beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, and as you rested your head on his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Zaun. The streets were always treacherous with now people lingered around. Dangerous people. You were walking back from a short supply run as the sun began to set over the horizon, the weight of the crossbow slung across your back almost forgotten as your mind wandered. Ekko’s words about being cautious echoed in your head. Always make a plan, always think before you act. He had drilled that rule into you countless times, but none of it mattered when you turned a corner and saw the scene in front of you.

A little girl, no older than seven, was backed against a crumbling wall, her tiny frame trembling. Two men loomed over her, their gruff laughter echoing down the alley as they taunted her. She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. One of the men reached for her arm, and without thinking, you moved.

Your crossbow was in your hands before you realized it, the familiar weight grounding you. The shimmer coursing through your veins dulled your hesitation, sharpening your focus. The first arrow struck the shoulder of the man closest to the girl, a sickening thud silencing his laughter as he staggered back with a howl of pain. The second arrow found the leg of the other man, sending him crumpling to the ground. You moved quickly, reloading and taking aim again, though neither man seemed eager to continue.

“Get out of here,” you growled, your voice cold and unyielding. The men scrambled to their feet, one limping heavily as they disappeared into the shadows without a backward glance.

The girl was still pressed against the wall, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed toy so tightly her knuckles were white. You knelt down in front of her, setting the crossbow aside. “Hey,” you said gently, trying to soften your tone. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Her eyes darted to the weapon lying on the ground, then back to your face. “You… you hurt them that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. “I had to,” you said softly. “They weren’t going to leave you alone. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her grip on the toy loosening slightly. “No. Thank you, miss lady.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you tense. You turned to see Ekko, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. Of course, he would show up. He always did. You noticed the small device in his hand and realized with a sinking feeling that it was a tracker. He must have known the second you fired the crossbow.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice low but firm as he approached you. “I told you to think before you act, to make a plan.”

You looked down at the girl, then back at Ekko. “She needed help,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the guilt creeping in. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Ekko sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he crouched beside you. His gaze softened when he looked at the girl. “Hey there,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Mila,” she said quietly.

“Well, Mila,” Ekko said, offering her a small smile. “You’re safe now. No one else is going to hurt you.”

The girl nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a little. You reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Do you have any family, Mila? Anyone we can take you to?”

Her expression darkened, and she shook her head. “My mom… she died a long time ago. And my dad…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “He left. He didn’t want me.”

By hearing those words. Gosh it hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced at Ekko, who was watching you carefully, his brow furrowed. He knew what you were thinking. Your father had abandoned you too, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that was cruel and unforgiving. Mila’s pain was all too familiar to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to push the memories away. “Mila,” you said softly, “would you like to come with us? We have a safe place where you can stay.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe you. “Really?”

“Really,” Ekko said, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

Mila hesitated, then nodded, clutching her toy tightly. “Okay.”

You helped her to her feet, glancing at Ekko as the three of you started back toward the hideout. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. He waited until Mila was a few steps ahead before leaning closer to you.

“We need to talk about this later,” he murmured, his tone serious but not unkind.

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d do it again.”

Ekko sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. The gesture was enough to remind you that, no matter how angry or worried he might be, he was still on your side.

When you arrived at the hideout, the Firelights greeted Mila with curiosity and kindness, their youthful energy helping to put her at ease. You showed her to a quiet corner where she could rest, and Ekko gave one of the older Firelights instructions to keep an eye on her. Then he turned to you, his expression serious.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you to his workshop. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the workbench. “I broke the rules. I acted without thinking. But, Ekko, she’s just a kid. I couldn’t let them hurt her.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “I do. But you can’t just jump into situations like that without a plan. What if they’d had weapons? What if they’d hurt you?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you again y'know.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on his arm. “You won’t,” you said firmly. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing when someone needs help and you know that. Its not who I am.”

Ekko nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “From now on, you need to be careful. Promise me that will you.”

“I promise,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

Ekko pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his body. He really did love hugging you. It’s not like you minded anyways, the way he hold you every time he did was endearing.

Shining bright through the sun was heavy as it seeped through the windows. Casting warm beams of light onto the small play area you and Ekko had carved out for the kids. Mila was a different child than the one you had brought in a few days ago. Her cheeks were fuller, a healthy glow replacing the pallor of malnourishment. Her hair, now free of dirt and tangles, was neatly braided in a style one of the older Firelights had taught her. She wore clean, simple clothes that fit her nicely, and the sight of her beaming smile was enough to make your heart swell. You began to love her as a little sister. One who needs to be protected from the harsh world.

You and Ekko sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a mix of giggling children who were eager to show off their toys as they invent new games. Mila gravitated toward you, her tiny hands tugging at your sleeve as she laughed at something one of the kids said. Her joy was infectious, and for the first time, you felt a lightness in your chest that had been absent since everything began. One that only appeared when you would share special moments with ekko, or in the past when you would make memories with your mother and anya.

“Watch this!” Mila declared, holding up a toy dragon that one of the Firelights had carved from wood. She mimicked the sound of its roar, moving it around in exaggerated loops. The other kids burst into laughter, and so did you, unable to resist the sheer enthusiasm radiating from her.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Ekko teased, leaning back on his hands as he watched her antics. “Maybe we should make you our official storyteller.”

“Really?” Mila’s eyes widened, the idea filling her with excitement. “Can I, can I?”

“Of course,” you said with a soft laugh, though your voice came out a bit sharper than you intended. Mila didn’t seem to notice, but Ekko shot you a quick, concerned glance. The shimmer was still in your system, subtle but nevertheless present. It would sometimes heighten your senses, making you jittery. It was like holding a storm inside you, and no matter how hard you tried, it bled through the cracks sometimes.

Mila tugged your sleeve again, pulling your attention back to her. “What’s your favorite story? I can tell it to everyone!”

You hesitated, the warmth in your chest flickering. “Maybe later,” you said, your tone sharper than before. “Let’s keep it quiet for now.”

Mila frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. “But we’re not being loud—”

“I said keep it down!” The words snapped out of you before you could stop them, your voice harsh and biting. The shimmer roared in your veins, amplifying your frustration to a level that felt almost unbearable. Mila flinched, her toy dragon slipping from her hands to the ground. The head of the dragon broke from its body, and you watched as it rolled towards your feet. The other kids fell silent, their wide eyes darting between you and the little girl.

Mila’s bottom lip quivered, her hands trembling as she reached for the dragon. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She clutched the toy to her chest and bolted from the group, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Silence. It was suffocating. The other kids stared at you, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear. Ekko was on his feet in an instant, his eyes blazing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you aside. Away from prying eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed, keeping his voice low but firm. “She’s a kid, and you just yelled at her like she did something awful.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quickly, guilt clawing at your chest. “It’s the drug—it’s messing with my head. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“You need to get it under control,” Ekko said, his tone softening but still stern. “The poor girl looks up to you. She trusts you. You can’t let the drug make you into someone she could afraid of.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you looked in the direction Mila had run. “I’ll talk to her,” you said quietly. “I’ll make it right, okay?”

Ekko nodded, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before letting go. “You’d better,” he said, though his voice held more concern than anger. “She needs you to be better than this.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed the faint sound of Mila’s sniffles to a secluded corner of the hideout. She was curled up on the floor, her back to the wall and her headless toy dragon clutched tightly in her arms. Her small shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and the sight made your chest ache.

“Mila,” you said softly, kneeling down a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at you, her face buried in the dragon’s wooden wings. “You yelled at me,” she said, her voice muffled but heavy with hurt. “I didn’t mean to be loud…”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I wasn’t angry at you, Mila. I’m just… not feeling like myself today but hat’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m so sorry for scaring you.”

Mila peeked up at you, her tear-streaked face breaking your heart. “You promise you’re not mad?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes i promise you that,” you said, reaching out slowly. She didn’t pull away when you rested a hand on her knee. “You’ve been so brave and strong since you came here, Mila. I’m really proud of you. And I’m really, really sorry for making you feel like you did something wrong.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her tiny hand on top of yours. “Okay,” she said softly. “I forgive you.”

Relief flooded through you, and you pulled her into a gentle hug. She wrapped her arms around your neck, her headless toy dragon squished between you. “You’re my favorite grown-up,” she whispered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with emotion. “Well, you’re my favorite storyteller,” you said, pulling back just enough to see her face. “How about we go back and tell the others a story? You can even make one up about a scary headless dragon.”

Mila’s eyes lit up, her earlier sadness melting away. “Okay!” she said, her smile returning in full force. “But you have to help me make it really good.”

“Deal,” you said, standing and taking her hand. As you walked back to the play area together, you glanced over your shoulder to see Ekko watching from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. As you stood beside mila and the other kids, you somehow managed to glue the head back to the headless dragon. Now it wasn’t headless anymore. Mila looked up at you, thanking you for fixing her dragon. A smile crept up her face. Even thought it was a small gesture of kindness after you made her cry, she thought it was a big deal. It was precious how mila would think even the smallest things were the best thing. Adorable.

You definitely knew that you still had work to do on yourself. To control your emotions and impulses but as well as being a person Mila could to look up to. However as her laughter rang out again, you felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be that person after all.

But was it true? The lines between reality and fiction began to converge. It all made sense as the waterfall’s thunder filled your ears. You stood motionless on the ledge, staring at the mirror-like surface of the lake below. Your reflection rippled faintly, distorted by the spray of water. You didn’t see yourself as you were, but only what you feared you had become. Mila’s tear-streaked face flashed in your mind, her sobs echoing louder than the rushing water. The guilt felt unbearable, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. Your trembling fingers brushed against the edge of the rocky ledge, the cold biting into your skin. A sob escaped your throat as tears fell freely, mingling with the mist around you. You apologizing to mila and fixing her headless dragon was all fake. Your mind imagined it. So right now mila was sad, hiding in a corner as she cried. What a horrible person i am.

“Maybe they’d all be better off without me,” you whispered to the air, your voice trembling as it was swallowed by the roar of the falls. The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. You had tried, tried so hard to fit in, to make Zaun feel like home. Yet every mistake, every outburst reminded you that you didn’t belong. The Firelights were kind, but they didn’t understand you. Mila didn’t deserve your anger, and Ekko didn’t deserve the chaos you continued to bring into to his life. You stepped closer to the edge, the rocks shifting beneath your feet.

The world seemed to narrow as you took another step forward, your gaze fixed on the lake below. You fell silently, the cold air rushing past you before the icy water enveloped you like a second skin. The cold was shocking at first, stealing your breath, but then everything went quiet. You sank deeper, the surface growing distant as the weight of the water pressed in from all sides. The noise in your head didn’t stop, though. It only grew louder, something you couldn’t escape.

Images of your mother flickered in your mind, her smile fading like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto. Anya’s laughter echoed, only to be drowned out by the sharp voice of your father. You’re not good enough. You never will be. The words clung to you like chains, dragging you deeper into the lake. You thought of Piltover and how it had abandoned you. Whereas with Zaun, you were nothing more than an outsider. Even here, even with Ekko, you felt like a burden. The water cradled you, its silence deceptive as your body floated aimlessly. You closed your eyes, hoping for darkness, for peace, but it didn’t come. Nothing was ever easy for you.

Instead, the world exploded in sound, a loud splash followed by muffled movements cutting through the water. You opened your eyes to see a figure diving toward you, moving with urgency. Ekko. His form was unmistakable even through the distorted water. He was always saving you after you do something stupid. How long would this last? When would it be the last time that he would save you?

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you upward with a strength you couldn’t resist. You felt the rush of cold air as he broke the surface, his grip on you tightened as he dragged you to the shore. His breaths came heavy, his movements frantic as he laid you down on the damp grass.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. He crouched over you, his hands gripping your shoulders as his eyes searched your face. “Do you even understand what you just did?”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find me,” you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

“That’s not an excuse!” His voice cracked, his frustration palpable. “You don’t get to just give up! And leave me like that.” He paused, taking a shaky breath before softening his tone. “Damn it.”

A small voice broke the tense silence. “Why did you do it?” Mila stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and tearful as she clutched her arms tightly. “Did I do something wrong? Was it because of me?”

Your chest tightened, the guilt suffocating as you shook your head. “No, Mila. No. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Mila hesitated, her small hands twisting nervously in front of her. “You said you cared about me. But then you yelled… I thought…” Her words trailed off, her voice breaking.

Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, Mila,” he said gently. “Sometimes grown-ups do stupid things when they’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring. You’ve gotta trust me on that.” He glanced at you pointedly, his meaning clear.

You sat up slowly, your body trembling from the cold. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, this time to both of them. “I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you. I never wanted to hurt either of you.”

Mila stepped closer, hesitating before reaching out to touch your hand. “Are you gonna be okay now?” she asked softly, her voice still uncertain.

You nodded, tears threatening to fall down your face as you squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll try to be. I promise.”

Ekko sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he helped you to your feet. “We need to find something to help you with this,” he said firmly. “I need the old you back. I want my firefly back.”

There was no way that a cure for shimmer exists in Zaun. And even if it did, even if someone had it, they wouldn’t give it up that easily. Not without a fight. Maybe you had to deal with your new life, the one were you were unstable and unpredictable. How can someone love a person like this. How can someone do deserving of something better like ekko deserve a person like you?

taglist. @hoonobono @superwhispersvoid @midnightprocrastinator @flooofity @pearldaisy @nyxzoldyck6 @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin @tadomikiku @sugaaawaraaa @sunshiines-stuff @night-fall-moon @moonccakes @endedlover @autumn2534 @deathweapongirl @girlistrange @auraa @ilovesugurugeto69 @zwr1tx @bitchydragonparadisee @chewbrry @lashawna200 @xaydria @hearts4li @aliives @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @catsf0rlife707 @pixieswashere @adesum @sorrows-song @hearts4li @qualityearthquakes @honeyfewr @littlegrapejuice @potatointhedirt @ekkosh @comfortweeb

banner. @anitalenia

[tetzoro]

MESSY — ༉‧₊˚.

fr. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : zoro has always been a little messy, so what else do you expect when he gets to have his way with you?

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, prone bone, creampies, mentions of spit & sweat, light choking, use of pet names (pretty baby, messy girl), mentions of overstimulation, honestly it’s just filth. — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : needed to write this out because it haunts my mind. thank you for reading & enjoy !!!

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

zoro’s just so messy. it’s especially true when he drinks, the sake dribbling down his chin as he takes steady gulps of the liquid. always finishing by wiping it off with the back of his hand, and depending on how far gone he is — he’ll lick that right up too.

it’s hard not to let your mind wander when you see him like this. it’s a stark difference to the way he fights, concise with a strategy meant to take down his opponents swiftly. it’s even different than the way he can be with others. no, it’s something more pure, driven by instinct.

his tongue will dip out of his mouth, swiping his bottom lip to clean up any remaining sake before a barely noticeable smile blooms. but you see it — you always do. your ever observant eye on him has you knowing more about him that he would think.

they say curiosity killed the cat but you wonder if death could ever taste this sweet. maybe heaven was found with zoro between your thighs, sloppily running his tongue all over your clit, spitting and sucking on it like his life depended on it. acting like a man starved for the honeyed nectar only you can give him, making sure to consume every last drop, unbothered by how many times you’ve cum already.

or maybe heaven was found here — caged under his body as you lay on your stomach, his body pressed on top of yours as his overwhelming girth stretches you out more with each thrust he gives you.

it didn’t start in this position, not by a long shot. after a few rounds you had no choice but to fold into yourself. propping yourself up on all fours took a heavier toll the more orgasms you had. like a fawn learning to walk, your limbs gave out under you, falling flat onto the bed— but he didn’t stop, not that you wanted him too.

he stayed upright at first, both hands firmly set on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. even if you tried to squirm out of his hold, trying, begging to get a moment of reprieve, he can’t stop. your silken walls just felt too good wrapped around his cock. it hurtles you into another release, taking him down with you — literally.

so now, he has you in a little headlock to hold you in place, his bicep keeping a light pressure against your neck that made you see stars. you’ve lost all vocal control at this point, moans steadily flowing out of your mouth, mewling nonsense mixed with his name.

you can hear zoro speaking — feel the rumble of his voice against your back and shivering up your spine, but there’s no way you can process it right now. your eyes are rolled so far towards the back of your head you swear you can practically see the heaven you’re feeling right now.

his toned chest slides along your back, your bodies both slick with sweat from the intensity of his thrusts. every part of you feels split open by him, but you knew deep down he’d stitch you back together once he was through. he always did.

whatever he was saying before has died out into soft grunts, his lips practically kissing your ear as he presses further into you. everything felt too hot, too close, but your mind was too dizzy to care. his cock continuously pumping his own cum back into you as it kisses the spongy spot deep inside of you.

you claw and writhe against the sheets, your body trembling as your release sneaking up on you. again. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum on his cock alone but judging by how disturbingly damp the sheets are, you’d say it was more than you could count on one hand.

and you just couldn’t stop shaking — your legs twitching under him, your fingers trying to find purchase in something, anything. it all felt too much, but you were right on the edge, ready to leap into the abyss knowing he’d always be there to catch you.

“gonna cum again f’me pretty baby?” he grunts out the question so close to you that you finally hear him.

he moves his arm from where it was lightly pressed against your neck as he starts to let up — his hand reassuringly grasping yours for a moment as you search for something to hold onto. he presses a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades, savoring the soft whimper you let out for him.

“please- ‘m so close!” you can barely choke the words out, each thrust he gives you has you gasping for air. you swear you can feel him all the way up in your lungs, whisking away every breath you take.

the other arm that he used to prop himself up slides down under your stomach to wrap around your waist, using it as leverage to go even deeper.

in this position, your swollen nub easily catches against the bunched up sheets that lay under you — and he knew it judging by the way he kept pushing you down against it. the game he was playing was unfair but you’d never tell him anything different, not when it felt so good.

“then cum.” he whispers, squeezing both of his hands on your supple skin as he continues driving himself into you.

with his blessing, you let go. the pleasure was mind numbing, your body locking up before releasing it in a sweet ecstasy that has you crying out his name. it didn’t take long for zoro to finish after that. frantically rutting into you, the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fills the room as you squeeze around his cock, desperately attempting to milk every last drop out of him.

seeing you almost helplessly confined under him had him moving even faster, watching as your body bounces against the mattress from the force of his thrusts as you fight against overstimulation, eagerly awaiting for him to fill you up again. and he’d never want to disappoint his baby.

he pushes all the way inside of you, letting out a strangled groan of your name as he finishes deep within you, finally giving you what you want. you weren’t sure how many times he had come either, but you could already feel it oozing out of your overused cunt and onto the sheets.

“always so messy.” he slurs, an ounce of pride in his voice as he lays on top of you. like he’s one to talk. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d let him have a piece of your mind. but instead, he’s gently turning you over and cradling you in his strong arms, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss against your sticky temple. he looks at you so softly the words die in your throat. he lets out a breathy chuckle, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “my messy girl.”

taglist : @fuyuaika @otoyastoy @ushiwhacka @margumis @oooohno @the-tenth-shadow @aeternussidera @strawberrystepmom

[yeri-luvr]

BFF

pair: bestfriend!ningning x fem!reader

wc: 800+

includes: oral, strap use, ass slapping, top ningning

watching movies, gossiping, eating snacks, online shopping, and napping. that’s what your hangouts with your best friend, ningning, usually consisted of.

so it was a surprise when you found yourself getting your pussy ate by the same girl you used to watch my little pony with.

“fuck, just like that” you cry out, feeling the subtle sucking of nings tongue on your clit leaving you in a daze.

ningning could coo at the way you looked as you fell victim to the ministrations of her tongue, already grinding your heat against her face at a fervent pace.

you’re unsure of how you wound up in this position, but your best friend left you with nothing to complain about as she ate you out as if her life depended on it.

you scratch at her hair as she leaves open mouthed kisses on your hot cunt, so passionately that it made you believe you two were something else for a second. she stops her movements, drawing out a groan from your throat.

ning wastes no time shuffling through her closet, coming out wearing a strap that you had no clue of her owning.

you felt your slick growing as she repositioned you onto your fours, pressing against your back to get a better view of your messy pussy.

ningning feels herself getting wetter at the mere sight of you. she brings her fingers up to spread your lips apart, gaping at the the strings of slick between them.

“I could barely get my tongue inside you,” she circles the tip of her strap around your entrance, “I wonder how i’m gonna get my cock to fit.”

sliding the faux cock into your hole, your breath hitches as you began to feel the stretch that ningning provided. you were left with your jaw hanging, unnable to get a moan out. on the other hand, ning groaned unashamedly at the sight of you wrapped around her. once coming to a halt, she pulled back out with a little struggle because of your tightness.

the pace your best friend had set was moderate while you craved for more. desperate and needy, you rock back and forth hoping ningning would get the hint.

she was pleased at the sight of your hips bouncing back against her pelvis. you found yourself clawing at the sheets as she met your thrusts half way, one hand holding your hip while the other managed to slither around your waist towards your clit.

“tightest pussy ever.” she mumbled, gawking at how hard it is to pull out of you, “m’gonna fuck you all night.”

you shamelessly grind against ningning, mumbling incoherent curses against the bedsheets. she retracts her hand from your slit to hold onto your other hip, increasing the rapid, forceful friction.

the burn from the girthy cock left you wailing out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, allowing ningning to take control and do as she pleases.

missing the way ningning played with you, your finger circles your clit before you’re met with a spank that sends you flying forward. you squeal at the sting of nings slap on your ass.

“who told you to touch yourself?” she tends to your need herself, leaving you crying into the pillow under you.

“let me do the work. i’ll take care of you, princess.”

you find it impossible to mutter any words out, instead focusing on the feeling of ningning dicking you down.

you feel her makeshift your hair into a ponytail while rubbing your almost-spent cunt, picking up the pace and making your back arch.

the arch allowed her tip to kiss your cervix repeatedly, you cried out in pleasure while all ningning could think about was why you guys haven’t done this earlier.

you felt her hips stutter as she let out small whimpers, her pace faltering for just 5 seconds. At first you didn’t clock it but then you realized,

ningning came at the sight of you alone?

with the way she picked herself up fairly quickly, you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying attention.

your grip on the bedsheets tightened as you got close to finishing, hearing ningning mutter something along the lines of, “been wanting this,” and “you’re so pretty like this”.

you were left breathless as you reached your high, ningning instinctively pulling you closer as she mumbled words of encouragement to you. all you focused on in that moment was the feeling of her dragged-out thrusts and the sound of your slick caused by your best friend.

the warmth of her lips pecking your back soothed you to a normal breath pace, fully coming down from the intensity of your climax. flipping your over and snuggling into your neck, ningning complained, “I can’t believe i finished before you did.”

you laugh at loud at this, already imagining all the teasing rights you’d have after this.

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SAVED NUMBERS

summary: you’re not the only one trying to keep it together (conversations over the phone) based off this scene from summer strike. characters: alhaitham, kinich, childe notes: fluff, teasing, mention of anxiety in kinich’s, wc: 1.3k

alhaitham

A sudden pattern of musical chimes sliced through the silence of the dark bedroom.

Automatically, a cathartic groan and yawn escape from your mouth as you blindly manoeuvred your hand across your nightstand, finally seizing the source of the irritating noise. A tap of your finger revealed the time and responsible caller.

“Is he crazy?” you abruptly sat up, roughly rubbing your eyes as if it there were some kind of mistake. “It’s 4am, for goodness sake.” Nevertheless, your finger swiped to answer the call, sinking yourself back into the warmth of the thick blankets and pillows and holding the phone close to your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you drawled, switching your attention from the ceiling to the phone.

“I couldn’t sleep,” came a breathy reply, those three words fluctuating in audibility. A faint hint of laughter. “But to answer your question, yes I do. It’s 4:06am.”

His voice is tender and doused in fatigue, a rare state to find the illustrious scribe. Gentle rustling of a comforter and indistinct breaths over the line. How close was he holding the phone? As if instinctual, you raise a hand against your lips to suppress any traces of nervousness and regulate the rapid beating echoing in your chest.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” he asked albeit suddenly, the sounds of movement halting.

You turned over and pulled the blanket to signify your consciousness, clearing your throat. “No,” then smiling as you added, “does my absence go as far as to completely disturb your precious sleep?”

Despite the cool emptiness of the night, the momentous distance that separated you both felt unimportant and forgotten. “You’re so bold.” Imperceptible traces of adoration intertwining within his voice, “but you’ve never been wrong when it comes to me.”

kinich

The scent of salt and sweet fruit juice swept through the open window of your rented cabin, sweeping the sheer curtains that adorned the wooden sides in graceful arches. Beyond the intricate frames stretched the breathtaking vastness of a tired sky, dwindling from its vibrant hues to a soothing navy blue, the prelude to a serene night blessed with stars. Faraway music and laughter echoed through the rolling hills of the People of the Springs, their infectious celebrations spilling through the evening, washing away any last remnants of worry or doubt that were previously clawing in your guts. It felt strange, almost eerie, somehow. Everything that once seemed so big and important felt so small and trivial against the quiet sanctuary where thoughts could gather by choice. This fragile feeling of saturated peace was always depicted as something temporary, and perhaps it was, but its value always lasted infinitely.

You take a step back and turn yourself to survey the cabin, leaning your hands against the windowsill. A coastal design with a minimal palette of blues and greys. Warm lamps scattered from the corners of the room to the ceilings of the ensuite. Puffy armchairs and beige bohemian couches around the edges of the bed, generously sized and cocooned by thick blankets and billowy pillows.

From beneath one of the blankets, a faint light emits through the fabric, simultaneous with the constant vibrating. The contact name elicits a soft smile, wasting no time to slide your finger to answer the call.

“I thought you’d forget,” you admitted, sinking yourself into the plush mattress. You laid on your back, an outstretched arm over your head as another held the phone.

“I’m offended that you thought so,” came his lofty reply. He was always so casual with his way of speaking. Blunt in some eyes, but equally endearing.

“I don’t have much time before Ajaw comes back,” and as if sensing your confusion, he adds, “I sent him on an… impromptu and urgent mission.”

His earnestness, so refreshing in the midst of such a quiet evening, brought forth a fit of laughter that resonated in your chest, and spread through the form of euphoria into your veins, warm and delicately precious. “It’s not late yet. Did you trick Ajaw into completing your commissions for you?”

His response was a half-hearted ‘hmm’. If this was a video call, you’re 99% sure that it would be accompanied by an even more half-hearted shrug. A moment to close his eyes, too.

“Poor Ajaw,” you jested, leaning to your side. “Out doing his master’s work while he handles other things he deems more important.”

“This is more important,” Kinich replies thoughtfully. “I wanted to say I love you before you went to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re completely suspended in silence, as if time momentarily halted. Did you hear that right? Of course you did; it wasn’t anything shocking. He was probably teasing you, provoking a reaction, like usual.

“The sun is still setting; what made you think I’d sleep this early?” You were nosy now, curiosity piqued at what he had to reason. I wanted to say I love you. It chanted like a spell, casting you into a dazed and smiling mess. I wanted to say I love you.

“The People of the Springs pride themselves on their bustling atmosphere. You’re not the type to miss out on that. Knowing you, you’ve probably exhausted yourself and are lying in bed as we speak.”

Bingo, bingo, and bingo.

childe

Only three more hours…

Boredom and exhaustion rippled through your body as you cupped your face in your hands, leaning absentmindedly over the front counter of the Northland Bank. Ornamental decorations occasionally twinkled when someone would enter, lazily drifting for a few seconds before falling back right into place, mirroring your state quite accurately. Each person was greeted in the same, uniform way. You’d briskly straighten with a polished smile, brightly posing a list of questions everyone would be asked before slouching back down once you successfully redirected them to an appropriate staff member.

“It would probably be dark by the time I’m out,” you mumbled with a ghost of a pout at the door, gazing half-heartedly at the tinted panels lined near the ceiling. Spotting a loose pen on the floor, you bent to retrieve it when the sound of a phone ringing from a cupboard caught your attention.

Answering personal calls while on the job was a strict regulation that was generally prohibited. Even so, you pondered, folding your arms and sneaking sideways peeks at the entries to empty hallways, so painfully desolate that even it too seemed opposed to any opportunity for distraction, those heedless and sickeningly pompous higher-ups would never dream of working on a Saturday afternoon, more or less care if a forgettable receptionist were to be caught on the phone.

“Hello?” you answered flatly, clearly disinterested in who the caller was from the way you didn’t bother to check the contact name before holding the phone close to your ear. Indistinct sounds of metal clashing and dull thuds echoed in response, and oddly, the bubbling of rushing water.

“Hello?” you repeated once again, a bit more forcefully in case the recipient couldn’t hear over the bizarre assortment of noises. A new round of agitation flushed through your body at the callers purposeful disregard, heat clambering up your face. Within the second you seriously contemplated hanging up, a panting voice emerged, and with it, a fervent series of persistent coughing and choking.

“Hey, don’t hang..up,” the voice, weak but evenly enthusiastic. “Sorry about that, I called, then a random army of treasure hoarders started attacking me from nowhere, and I had to-“

“Is this who I think it is?” Pausing in disbelief from amazement, you felt surges of every possible emotion colliding against each other in nauseating rounds inside your head. Hearing his voice so close by your ear whilst being surrounded by the bleakest of places felt like a taste of something divinely transcendental.

“Who else?” a breathless laugh came from the person on the other line. “I know…you told me to not call you unless it was an emergency, but hey, i’ve got your attention now, and I’d like to savour that for as long as I can.”

[sleepymarimo]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

summary: one time zoro pushes your affections away and another time when he begrudgingly accepts them. pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: none, zoro being a cutie and confused about soft feelings an: just some fluff bc I have a headache and I wanna give him a hug :( wc: 1.2k

it seemed like zoro had always let the oddest things to happen to him.

he’d let chopper climb atop his head, tiny hooves brushing through strands of moss green hair. when the reindeer’s soft fur tickled the skin of his cheeks, he didn’t blink.

he’d let usopp cling to him in fear, idly looking around with a bored expression as the sniper tugged at his hakama or pushed him right toward whatever threat lay before them.

the list goes on and on, the ever stoic swordsman never really putting in the effort to actively resist his crew mates or the occasional curious animal.

with that in mind, you figured that you’d be able to get away with some gestures of your own.

after a particularly rough battle, you’d been so utterly happy that your arms wrapped around the rugged swordsman, squeezing him tight.

you blame it on the adrenaline, not those pesky feelings of yours that you refuse to acknowledge.

it was an innocent embrace, imbued with nothing but affection and glee, yet that didn’t stop him from tensing at your touch.

the next thing you remember is being pushed away, gently but firmly, and feeling dumbfounded.

“the hell are you doing?” he had roughly questioned, brushing off your much-too-sweet touches from his person.

uncomfortable.

he was uncomfortable and he hated it, not particularly fond of feeling so vulnerable from something as simple as a damn hug.

looking between him and your still awkwardly stretched out arms, you come to a sort of realization.

zoro didn’t just let things happen to him. no, he allowed them. every touch and tug and pinch was permitted, actively decided upon by the marimo.

that fiasco was almost a whole week ago, the thousand sunny now barreling through the rolling waves of the sea in the hopes of reaching a winter island.

even as the air became colder, the clouds darker, you continued to simmer.

unjustifiable annoyance creeps into your brain just thinking about how he pushed you away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and hurt alike.

he didn’t feel that bad.

the swordsman had boundaries, which was understandable, set in place for the sake of self-preservation.

that small flip his heart did when he felt you hug him? the boiling heat that clawed up from his chest to his cheeks and to the tips of his ears? absolutely not.

he didn’t want to deal with that, especially after a fight and with the rest of the crew watching.

it took time for you to adjust your actions, to maneuver around the barriers he’d set in place for himself.

being the stubborn little thing you were, you decided to throw yourself into the jaws of the tiger once more.

you try your luck on a brumal morning, a light frost already starting to form on the deck. it seems like the water is still, the sea easily parting as the ship effortlessly glides on its surface.

the observation deck is your destination, where you’re sure the marimo will be.

and indeed he is, outwardly unaffected by the biting cold.

meticulous as ever, at least when it comes to his craft, he sits on a mat and polishes his blades. shoulders relaxed, but eyes sharp, he goes about his task with precision.

he knows you’ve just entered the observation room, thinking that a nod of his head and a small grunt is enough of a greeting.

the scent of steel and polish hang in the air as he continues, figuring that you’d come in to grab something.

he doesn’t expect to be what you want. what else was he good for besides swinging a damn sword around?

you mask your nerves and step inside, taking brisk steps towards the swordsman. it’s now or never, you think, quick to take a seat behind him on the mat.

with slow and gentle movements, you situate yourself into your preferred position.

your chest presses into his back, the rough material of his shirt not enough to keep you from resting your cheek there.

your inner thighs hug his outer ones, the firmness of the muscle beneath forcing you to hold back a shudder. sealing the deal, you loosely wrap your arms around his midsection.

“good morning.” you mumble, speaking to him as if he were a deer about to bolt.

silence is what you get in return and you wish you could peer into that thick skull of his to see what he was thinking.

warm.

that’s how zoro feels at first, before something akin to discomfort starts to gnaw away at him.

his hands come to a stop, his head lifting as he stared ahead and processed just what the hell you were doing.

there’s a split second of stillness- a period of time where he decides if he wants to revel in your touch or bask in his solitude for a moment longer.

it feels like eons pass before the tension is broken, fizzling into nothing as if it didn’t exist in the first place.

his hands resume their task of polishing his prized swords. the muscles in his body relax and everything else suddenly melts away.

he grants you permission.

he allows it.

“morning.” he grumbles back, speaking with an air of nonchalance that contrasted with how fast his mind was racing.

it’s a delicate balance, as frail as the thin layer of ice starting to form on the glass windows.

you know now more than ever to hold off on the banter and teasing, unless you wanted to get bucked off.

taking what you’ve been given, you’re content enough with releasing a deep breath and letting the rise and fall of his back lull you into a light doze.

time seems to pass slower in this world, in this little pocket of tranquility which exists only for the two of you.

when you finally decide to loosen your grip and pull away, he lets out a noise equivalent to a growl.

he’s almost offended.

one of his hands holds your wrist in place, his grip firm. he’s never been good at displaying tenderness, his words unintentionally gruff. “oi, where are ya goin’?”

he releases your arm, almost daring you to defy him. his muscles relax once more, calloused hands resuming the tedious task of polishing steel as he picks up his next sword.

his tone is softer, spoken as a mumble as if he was afraid of saying too much. “just stay a little longer.”

the request has you momentarily astonished, eyes widening a tad before you got a grip on yourself. your arms settle back around his waist, a pleasant buzz spreading in your chest and down to your toes.

you were well aware that this was a rare opportunity, one that you could not and would not pass up.

so, you let out a sigh and rest your cheek on his back once more.

his aura seems to encapsulate you, making you feel safe and at ease.

he’s satisfied with your reaction, how you effortlessly unwind and how your breaths even out.

once again, he’s warm.

zoro decides that he can spend hours just like this.

for the crew, he could always be a demon. for you? he wouldn't mind being a bit more human.

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Final Part

Summary: With Logan heading toward the enemy's clutches, you're left alone, questioning if you'll be able to stop her and finally put an end to it all.

ONE | TWO | THREE

Warnings: canon-level violence, death, some logan POV, arguing, angst, fluff WC: 9.5k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan regrets his decision to leave you the moment the warehouse door slams shut behind him, cutting off the desperate cry that echoes from within. The sound of your voice, the look of fear and pleading in your eyes as you begged him not to do this, haunts him even as he forces himself to move forward.

Every instinct in him screams to turn back, to protect you, to face whatever comes together. But he knows he can’t. Not now. Not with what’s waiting for him outside.

The sight that greets him as he steps out into the open is nothing short of a nightmare. A horde of mutants, all gathered outside, bodies tense and mouths practically frothing at the mouth, ready to take a bite. The moment he appears, they spring into action, launching themselves at him with everything they’ve got.

He grunts as the first mutant crashes into him, small bursts of electric energy crackling all around. Still, he doesn’t hesitate. His claws flash out, cutting through the mutant’s flesh with ease. Blood splatters across his face, warm and sticky, but he barely registers it. Another mutant charges at him from the side, and he ducks under the swipe of its tail, driving his fist deep into its chest with a snarl.

They fall one by one, but there’s no satisfaction in it. These aren’t enemies; they’re victims, Shadowmind’s marionettes.

Another one slams into his side, driving him back a few steps, and Logan snarls as he jams his claws through its chest. Still, they keep coming. He’s fought worse than this—he’s fought against himself—but the sheer number of mutants bearing down on him begins to be overwhelming.

He can feel the weight of them pressing in on him, the force of their combined strength pushing him, inch by inch. He fights them off with everything he has, each slash of his claws sending one after another to the ground, but it’s just not enough.

A particularly large mutant grabs him from behind, its arms locking around his chest, effectively crushing him. Logan grits his teeth, muscles straining as he tries to break free, but he then something—or someone—slam into his legs, knocking him off balance. He stumbles, and before he can recover, more mutants pile on top of him, their weight dragging him down.

“Get off me!” he yells hoarsely with exertion as he thrashes around, but still, it’s no use. They are like a tide, and they’re dragging him toward the location of the underground tunnels, where he knows she is waiting.

It’s like he can feel the ground shifting beneath him as they drag him closer to the entrance of the tunnels, the air grows colder, darker, more unsettling. With each passing second, he’s pulled further from the warehouse, further from you.

When they reach that damn metal grate it’s quickly pushed to the side, and he's roughly shoved down into the hole, grubby hands forcing him into the depths. He lands hard on the damp, uneven ground of the tunnel system, the impact jarring his bones, but he doesn’t let the brief pain slow him down. He clambers to his feet, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

The remaining mutants surround him, forming a barrier between him and the way out, and Logan knows he’s trapped. He knows that there’s no way out except forward.

“Wolvie!” He hears, the voice a sing-song echo through the tunnel in false excitement. “Back so soon? You just couldn’t stay away, could you?

“What do you want, Lorna?” he growls, using her real name deliberately, trying to strip away the power she’s claimed for herself.

She steps out of the shadows, but she doesn’t answer his question right away. Instead, she lets the silence stretch, her predatory gaze fixed on him as if she’s savouring the moment.

“I want what’s mine,” she says finally, dangerously. “And you… you’re part of that.”

Logan’s claws twitch, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t take the bait. “You’re delusional,” he spits.

“Am I?” she replies, her tone laced with false innocence. She takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. “You and I… we were made by the same people. We’re two sides of the same coin, Wolvie. But there’s a difference between us.”

Nostrils flaring, he tries to keep his breath coming in controlled, measured beats as he fights to keep his mind clear, focused. “The difference is, you let them turn you into this, even after their downfall.”

Shadowmind’s laughter is sharp, biting, like the crack of a whip. “You think you’re better than me?” she hisses. “I fought back. I never let myself get corrupted by them. But you?” A laugh rips from her throat. “You were just waiting there, ready to be useful, weren’t you? Just a good little weapon, eager to please.”

Logan clenches his jaw. The words hit their target, but he forces himself not to react, not to let her see the impact. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she purrs, her voice softening with false sympathy. “You didn’t fight back. You let them break you, turn you into their perfect killing machine. You were more than willing to do their dirty work, weren’t you? All those years, all those lives… They didn’t mean anything to you.”

His breath hitches, just for a moment, but it’s enough. Shadowmind’s eyes glint with satisfaction, sensing the crack she’s been looking for. “You couldn’t wait to sink your claws into anyone they pointed you at. But the worst part? You’re still that same weapon. All your talk about being better, about being in control… It’s all a lie, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” he growls.

“And what about that little sidekick of yours?” she continues, her tone shifting to one of mock pity. “Knifey, you called her? She’ll never see you the way you want her to. How could she? You’re nothing but a relic, Wolvie. Too much baggage, too old, too damaged. She’ll realize it soon enough—she’ll leave you behind, just like everyone else.”

Logan’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to stay grounded. He knows what she’s doing—knows she’s trying to weaken him, to break him down until he’s vulnerable enough for her to control. But it’s working. He can feel the doubts creeping in, the old fears and insecurities clawing their way to the surface.

“You’re a failure, Logan,” She whispers, her voice slipping inside his head, bypassing the physical world entirely. “You’ve always been one, too. You can’t save anyone, and you won’t save her. All you do is destroy. That’s all you’re good for.”

“Stop it,” he snarls.

“You can’t escape your past. No matter how many times you try to change, no matter how hard you fight, you’re still the same broken weapon they made you. You’re nothing.”

His vision shakes, the darkness of the tunnel closing in around him as her words seep into his mind, pulling at the edges of his sanity. He can feel the walls he’s built around his mind starting to crack, the strain of keeping her out taking its toll. She’s pushing harder now, digging deeper, little by little, weakening his defences, until she can take control.

“You’re alone, Logan,” she pushes. “And you’ll always be alone. Because of who you are, what you are. You destroy everything you touch. You bring pain and suffering to everyone you care about. That’s why she’ll leave you.”

His heart pounds in his ears, the sound almost drowning out her voice, but not quite. He can feel the line between reality and nightmare beginning to blur, her words fading the edges of his perception, making it harder to distinguish between the two.

“You can’t break me,” Logan says, veins in his neck bulging at the amount of effort he's exerting, the fight inside him burning bright despite the wickedness closing in. “You’ll never break me.”

Lorna’s laughter echoes through the tunnel, haunting. “We’ll see about that, Wolverine,” she whispers, her voice dripping with malevolent glee.

----

The days after Logan sacrifices himself to the horde of mutants blur into one long stretch of despair and frantic thinking. You know he did it to protect you, to keep you safe, but the only thing it does is leave you feeling utterly alone and powerless. All you want to do is follow him, tear through those mutants and drag him back, but the door that closed so resolutely behind him now feels like an impenetrable barrier.

Self-sacrificing asshole.

You spend the first few hours pacing back and forth across the warehouse, your mind spinning with distressed ideas and plans that you know, deep down, are impossible. You think about sneaking back into the tunnels, maybe finding a back way in, using the element of surprise to take down Shadowmind before she can do any more damage. But the more you try to piece together a plan, the more you realize how futile it is. She could be hiding anywhere in the shadows of those damn tunnels, and if she has another group of mutants waiting for you... Every time you think you have a workable strategy, it falls apart under the weight of too many unknowns.

At one point, you even consider trying to bargain with her, offering yourself up in exchange for Logan’s freedom. But the idea of putting yourself at Shadowmind’s mercy again, knowing first-hand how she twists minds and breaks people, makes you regret contemplating it. And you know Logan would never forgive you if you did something so reckless, and let’s say if she agreed to the exchange, there’s no guarantee she wouldn’t just find a way to end you both.

So, you spend your days trapped in a cycle of despair and frustration, your mind constantly racing to find a way to get him back. Hardly sleeping, your nights are filled with restless tossing and turning, your thoughts consumed by images of what that wicked woman might be doing to him.

Is she torturing him, trying to break his spirit? Or is she forcing him to relive the horrors of his past, using his memories against him? Thinking of him suffering, of him being twisted and corrupted by her influence, leaves you feeling hollow and sick with worry.

You try to distract yourself, to keep busy in the warehouse, but everything reminds you of him. After all, it’s his place. The silence is deafening without the sound of his heavy footsteps, the gruffness of his voice cutting through the stillness. Even the small, mundane tasks feel impossible without him there. You find yourself flailing around in the kitchen, your attempts to cook a meal turning into a disaster. You can’t remember how he managed to make everything look so easy, his hands moving with ease as he salvaged your attempts at dinner. 

You stand there, staring at the mess you’ve made, feeling utterly useless. In the few short weeks you’ve known him, you always relied on him to help you with something, to have your back in a mutant-encounter, to steady you when you stumbled. Now, without him, you feel like you’re falling apart. 

At night, when you’re laying in bed—his bed—the thoughts never stop. Your thoughts wander, wondering how he’s holding up, whether he’s still fighting, still resisting. Or if he’s already succumbed to Shadowmind’s control. You absolutely despise the idea of him being forced to kill, to hurt others, knowing how much he loathes the things he’s been made to do in the past.

A small, treacherous part of you can’t help but hope that, if nothing else, Logan will find a way to end it. That he’ll kill her before she can break him, before she can twist him into something unrecognizable. You know it’s a dangerous thought, but you cling to it all the same.

She deserves to be punished.

If anyone can survive her, it’s Logan. If anyone can find a way to stop her, it’s him.

Yet, as the days drag on, that hope begins to fade. The longer he’s gone, the more your fears grow, until they consume you entirely. You imagine him locked in a battle of wills with her, his mind being torn apart, and it almost drives you to the brink of madness. You feel like you're unraveling, piece by piece, the threads of your sanity slipping through your fingers as you pace the warehouse, waiting for a sign, any sign, that he’s still out there.

The silence stretches on, building up to a crushing weight. Every time you hear a noise outside, every creak of the building, every gust of wind, you freeze, your heart leaping into your throat, hoping against hope that it’s him, that he’s somehow found his way back to you. But each time, you’re met with nothing but disappointment and the hollow emptiness that fills the space where he used to be.

You sit by the door for hours, just staring at it, willing it to open, willing Logan to walk through it and tell you that everything is going to be alright. That he’s beaten her, that he’s stronger than her. But the door remains closed, the warehouse eerily still, and your hope continues to wither away.

Just go. Help him. Do it yourself

These thoughts begin to swarm in your head. You realize that it’s been too long. If Logan were to do something, anything, he would have done it by now. For all you know, he could be chained up to those cold, damp walls, waiting for you to save him. 

Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage you have left. You turn toward the door, ready to throw it open and march back into the madness, when suddenly, it swings open on its own.

And there he is. Logan stands in the doorway, his frame filling the entrance, the light from outside casting shadows across his face. For a moment, you’re frozen, disbelief warring with overwhelming relief.

He’s back. He’s here.

“Logan!” you gasp, rushing toward him, your feet barely touching the ground. “Oh my gosh, you’re back. Are you alr—”

But your words are cut off as his hand latches around your throat with a vice-like grip. Kicking the door shut behind him, the breath is driven from your lungs as he swiftly turns you around, slamming you roughly against it. Pain radiates through your back from the impact, your mind reeling, struggling to understand what’s happening.

“What—” you manage to choke out, but the words die in your throat as you feel the sharp edge of his claws pressing against your stomach.

Your eyes go wide, your mind a blur of shock and disbelief. This isn’t your Logan. It can’t be. Yet before you can process it, before you can even react, the claws extend with a sickening shink, and you feel them pierce through your flesh, cold steel sinking deep into your abdomen.

A strangled cry escapes your lips as the pain explodes through you, white-hot and searing, radiating out from where his claws are buried in your stomach. Your hands fly to grab his wrist, trying to push him away, but there’s no strength in your limbs, no fight in you. Your legs give out, and you slump against the door, held up only by the grip he has on your throat.

You try to speak, try to ask him why, but the words won’t come. All you can do is stare up at him as the reality of what’s happening sinks in.

There’s no recognition in his eyes, no hint of the man you’ve grown to care about. He looks at you as if you’re nothing, just another target, just another obstacle in his path.

“She… she got you?” you whisper, the question barely a breath, your voice breaking under the weight of your pain and confusion.

There’s no response. Hatred burns in his eyes as he pulls his claws free from your body with a slow, deliberate movement, the pain doubling as they slide out of your flesh. Blood pours from the wound, soaking through your clothes and pooling at your feet

You can feel your body beginning to mend itself together, until only a lingering ache remains, but the pain—oh, the pain—is still there, deep and throbbing, both physical and emotional.

Logan steps back, his claws dripping with your blood, his expression unchanged. The realization that you’re going to have to fight him slams into you like a fucking bus, and the thought of hurting him again makes you hesitate.

This is Logan. The man who’s fought beside you, who's trained you… But now, he’s under her control, and this version of him is not going to stop until one of you is down.

Trying to shake of the pain, you raise your hands in a defensive stance. “Logan, I don’t want to hurt you,” you plead, your voice trembling. But he doesn’t respond. He just charges at you.

You barely dodge the first strike, rolling to the side as his clawed fist collides with the metal door. Your mind is screaming at you to fight back, but your heart is in turmoil. Every move you make is half-assed, conflicted, as you struggle to reconcile the need to defend yourself with the deep, aching reluctance to harm him.

“Please!” you cry out, dodging another swipe that comes dangerously close to your throat. “You have to push against this!” 

This isn’t just a fight—it’s a mirror image of the horror you lived through not long ago. You know exactly what he’s feeling, the suffocating darkness that grips his mind, the tight grip of control that leaves him impotent to resist. Shadowmind’s influence is a force of sheer will, a crime against everything you are, twisting your thoughts, your actions, until there’s nothing left of you but a weapon in her hand.

You remember the way it felt, how every fibre of your being screamed to stop, to fight back, but your body moved on its own, driven by her malicious intent. The guilt, the helplessness—it had nearly broken you. And now, here you are, facing Logan, who’s trapped in the very same prison. 

The roles have been reversed, and the bitter irony of it a sick joke.

Hopelessness eats at your insides as you’re backed into a corner, your mind racing to find a way out of this without hurting him. He gives you no choice. He’s faster, stronger, and without the hesitation that’s holding you back, he’s going to overpower you if you don’t act.

He comes at you again, claws aimed straight for your heart, and you finally react on pure instinct. You grab his wrist just in time, using your strength to twist his arm away, the momentum sending him stumbling back for a brief moment. But it’s not enough to stop him.

“Come on, snap out of it!” you shout. You hate this—you hate every second of it. But you can’t let him kill you, and you can’t let Shadowmind win.

He doesn’t respond. All he does is attack, faster this time, his movements a blur. In a desperate move, you finally manage to knock him back, sending him crashing into a table. For a moment, he stays down, breathing hard, and you take the opportunity to plead with him one last time.

“Logan, I know you’re in there,” you say, eyes filled with tears. “You have to fight her. I don’t want to hurt you… I can’t.”

But when he rises again, there’s no sign that he heard you at all. He jumps in your direction once more, and your heart shatters as you realize that there’s no choice left. 

----

Lorna’s mental assault is relentless. 

“Just let go, Logan,” she hisses, a poisonous whisper that slithers into the cracks of his defences. “You can’t fight me forever. You’re not strong enough.”

Logan grits his teeth, nails digging into his palms as he struggles to keep her out, to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity. But it’s been days, and the gaps are widening, spreading like spiderwebs through his mind, and he can feel her starting to slip through, her presence growing stronger, more oppressive.

“You’re weak,” she continues. “You were always weak. That’s why they made you into what you are—a weapon. Because you were never good enough to be anything else.”

His vision blurs, the world around him fading as her voice fills every corner of his mind, pushing out his own thoughts, his own will. 

“Why keep fighting, Wolvie?” She ponders. “You’ve fought your whole life, and what has it gotten you? Pain. Loss. Loneliness. Just let go. Stop fighting. It’ll be easier that way. You’ll finally have peace.”

Her voice is all he can hear now, all he can feel.

“That’s it,” she whispers triumphantly. “Give in. You know you want to. You’ve always wanted to. Just let go. Let me take control.”

With one last, brutal push, she forces her way in, her power crashing through his mind. Logan gasps, his body going rigid as she seizes control, her will overriding his own, drowning out his thoughts, his memories, everything that makes him who he is.

He feels her in his mind, filling every nook and cranny. There’s no room left for him, no space to fight back.

“Good,” she purrs, “Now, do what you were made to do. Kill her.”

His body moves on its own, driven by her desires. He turns, face stoic, as he begins to move toward the warehouse, where you’re waiting, unaware of the danger that’s about to strike.  The chains around his mind tighten, pulling him along, guiding his every step.

Kill her, he hears again, and he obeys without hesitation. He’s powerless. And as he reaches the door, his hand reaches for the handle, the final barrier between him and his target, the woman he’s been ordered to kill. The woman he…

But the thought never completes itself. Lorna’s voice, dark and seductive, wraps around his mind once more, tightening the chains, binding him to her.

“Do it, Logan,” she whispers in anticipation. “Show her what you really are.”

The door swings open, and Logan steps inside, his eyes locking onto you. And as he closes the distance, there’s only one thought left in his mind, one command that drives him forward.

Kill.

----

The clash of skin against skin fills the warehouse as you and Logan engage into heated combat. Every movement, every strike delivered, but there’s an anguised edge to your attacks—one that comes from knowing you’re fighting someone you care about, someone who, under different circumstances, would never lift a hand against you.

But these aren’t different circumstances. This isn’t the Logan you know. This is Shadowmind.

Your body moves with the skill Logan taught you, every nerve on high alert as you parry his strikes and counter with your own. It’s a brutal dance, each of you trying to find an opening, but despite everything, the fight is even. You’re giving as good as you get, but you know deep down that his experience, his brutal history, gives him the advantage.

He fights as if he’s been doing this his entire life—which, of course, he has. You can see it in the way he maneuvers, the way he anticipates your strikes, even under her influence, the muscle memory doesn’t lie. Still, you keep going, keep pushing yourself to maintain your ground. Each hit he lands, your body heals, the pain sharp but temporary. You use your strength to block some of his strikes, to push him back, but he’s insane, his jabs coming faster, harder, until you’re struggling just to keep up.

Somehow you manage to sweep his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. But before you can capitalize on the moment, he rolls forward, moving on all fours as he reaches out and grabs your ankle. Then, he yanks you to the ground with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. The impact reverberates through your body, and for a moment, your vision blacks out.

You try to scramble to your feet, but he’s quicker. He’s on top of you immediately, his weight pinning you down, his hands wrapping around your throat. You gasp, your hands flying up to his wrists as you struggle to breathe, to fight against the crushing pressure.

“Logan, stop!” you choke out, clawing at his hands, your nails digging into his skin. You know he won't stop. Not when he's under her control.

The world around you begins to fade around the edges, your vision shrinking as the lack of oxygen sends you spiraling into darkness. You can feel your strength diminishing, your body growing weaker as your lungs burn, desperate for air. Your hands slip from his wrists, falling limply to your sides as your muscles give out, your last reserves of energy draining away.

You don't think your healing factor will allow you to survive this.

Just as your eyes begin to roll back into your head, just as you’re on the verge of passing out, something in him shifts. His grip loosens, the pressure on your throat easing slightly, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes—something human, something familiar.

In an instant, Logan’s hands release you entirely, his body going rigid as if struck by an unseen force. His wide eyes stare down at you, processing what just happened—what he just did. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he looks at his hands, the hands that were strangling the life out of you not even a minute ago, and then back at your face, colourless and gasping for breath. The horror spreads across his features like a slow, creeping shadow, and with a choked gasp, he falls to his knees beside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters frantically, running a shaky hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as if they’ve just been burned. He looks lost, terrified, as if the reality of what he’s capable of is crashing down on him all at once.

“You have to go,” he says in barely more than a hoarse whisper. “You need to get the hell away from me.”

You force yourself to sit up, ignoring the searing pain in your throat, the way each breath feels like it’s dragging over raw, jagged edges. Your vision is still hazy, the space around you spinning slightly, but you manage to shake your head, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No. I’m not leaving you.”

The moment your hand touches him, his body jumps. It's as if your touch is the last thing he expected, the last thing he deserves. He flinches away from you, his eyes wide, but then it changes.

His expression hardens, the panic in his eyes melting into anger. “I’m not givin’ you a choice,” he spits out. “Leave before I hurt you even more.”

Deep down, you know he’s saying this to protect you, to push you away before he loses control again. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. The fact that he isn’t even considering your help, that he’s so determined to shut you out, feels like a betrayal.

“Hey, stop,” you begin. “Let me help you.”

He shakes his head violently, standing up abruptly, towering over you with a clenched jaw. “You don’t get it,” he snarls, the desperation in his voice now masked by a biting anger. “I almost killed you! I could have—”

“But you didn’t,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your own feet, making him look you in the eye. “You stopped. You fought her off.”

“For how long?” he snaps back, frustrated. Not with you, but with himself. “How long before she gets back in? How long before I lose it completely and—”

“And what?” you challenge, “And kill me? Logan, if she’s in your head, you need me here. I’m not running away just because you’re scared.”

“Scared?” He practically growls the word, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think this is about being scared? This is about keepin’ you alive! You have no idea what it’s like, what she’s doing to me—”

“I know exactly what it’s like!” you shout, your frustration finally boiling over. “I was under her control too, remember?”

“It’s different with me!” Logan barks, his voice echoing in the small space. “I’m not like you! I’ve got too much shit in my head, too much darkness, and she’s feeding off it,” he takes in a heavy breath. 

You run your hands down your face, exasperated. “Why are you insisting on doing this alone? First you leave me to sacrifice yourself or whatever that was, and now you’re just gonna do the exact same thing again? It didn’t work the first time and it won’t work the second. We need to do this together!” 

“Remember when I told you this wasn’t a partnership?” he snaps as he struggles to keep his composure, the battle raging within him evident in every tense line of his body. “When I said I needed to figure out what was happening? Well, I did, and guess what? You’re not involved. This is my burden, and I’m telling you to go.”

“You’re being so fucking stubborn!” You yell, trying to break through the walls he’s building around himself. “You don’t need to push me away in order to protect me. That’s not how this works!”

His face twists in irritation. “I’m dangerous! I’m a goddamn ticking time bomb, and she knows how to set me off!”

“Then let me help you defuse it!”

You’re beginning to take a step toward when when you see it—the twitch of muscle below his right eye, then his left, and the scrunching of his brows. His face begins to contort in pain, and a cold dread settles in your chest as you begin to realize what is happening to him.

She’s not listening to you, Logan hears her voice return in the back of his head, a small whisper. 

She never will.

His hands fly up to his head, gripping it tightly as if he could physically tear her of his skull.

You’re useless, the words seep into his thoughts. 

You were always just a weapon. Nothing more. Nothing less. And now you’re nothing.

Each phrase pounds through his skull, each whisper amplifying in volume until they’re not whispers anymore but screams. His body begins to tense, muscles locking up.

She won’t want you. It’s a ceaseless litany designed to break him, to shatter the last of his resistance once more. His vision wanes, black edges creeping in as Shadowmind’s influence digs deeper, rooting itself back into the darkest corners of his mind.

“Run,” he chokes out, voice strained, barely recognizable as his own. The command is laced with urgency, with the knowledge that if you don’t, he won’t be able to stop what’s coming.

But you hesitate, unwilling to leave him like this. “Logan, I can’t—”

“RUN!” he roars, the sheer might of the word almost knocking you back.  Then, every emotion drains from his face, wiped out in an instant, leaving behind that same expressionless mask you saw when he first attacked you. The last shred of control he had is gone.

You don’t need to be told again. You turn and bolt for the door, and as you sprint out of the room, Logan’s world narrows to a single point of focus—the voice in his head, now no longer just whispers but a deafening roar. 

He’s coming for you, and there’s nothing left of him to stop it.

----

Your heart pounds in your chest as you run, the fear and adrenaline fueling your every step. You’re going as fast as you can, the world around you blurring into streaks of colour as you race down the street, but no matter how fast you go, you can hear him—hear Logan—right behind you. 

His footsteps are heavy, persistent. The sound of his grunting ricochets off the buildings and into your ears, and you don’t need to turn around to know he’s moving faster than you’ve ever seen before, Shadowmind unleashing some berserk mode within him, and you know this won't end until he's caught you

You dart around corners, leap over obstacles, trying to put as much distance between you and Logan as possible, but it’s no use. And when you do finally glance over your shoulder, he’s there, closing the gap with terrifying precision, his eyes fixed on you.

Your thoughts race as quickly as your feet, desperately searching for a solution, a way to escape. Where can I go? What can I do?

And then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea hits you.

With a sudden burst of determination, you swerve sharply, changing direction on a dime. The abrupt move nearly throws you off balance, but you recover quickly, setting your sights on the entrance to the underground tunnels—Shadowmind’s lair. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, so close now that his breath is practically on the back of your neck, but you force yourself to ignore it.

Approaching the metal grate, you lift it up and throw it to the side as fast as possible, and leap down into the darkness. There’s no time to catch your breath. You sprint through the dark, winding passages of the tunnel, your feet pounding against the cold, uneven ground. 

Behind you, Logan’s pursuit is unending. The sound of his claws whipping through the air is horrifying, but you can’t afford to slow down, can’t afford to let fear overtake you. You have to keep moving, have to find Shadowmind before he gets you.

Her voice slithers through the tunnel with cruel amusement, a taunt that weaves itself out from the shadows. “Did you do it, Wolvie? Did you kill her?”

It sends a surge of anger through you, a hot, burning rage that fuels your steps. Your voice reverberates off the walls as your scream, “Shut the fuck up!”

You can feel her presence ahead, the oppressive weight of her mind starting to press down on you too, and the need to end this—to end her—drives you forward.

Finally, you see her. She’s standing at the end of the tunnel, her silhouette illuminated by a light that seems to radiate from the very walls. Her eyes gleam with malice, a psycho grin playing on her lips as she watches you approach. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting for you to come to her.

Without hesitation, you lunge for her, but just as you’re about to reach her, Logan intercepts you, his body slamming into yours from the side with brutal force.

The impact sends you crashing into the opposite wall. Pain blooms along your shoulder, the breath knocked out of your lungs. The rough edges of the room scrape against your skin, and the dampness oozes into your bones as you struggle to regain your footing.

“Logan, I’m not fighting you!” you shout, exhaustion and frustration blending in your voice as you try to reason with the man you know is still in there, somewhere. “I’m going to kill that fucking bitch!” you finish, pointing at the woman standing behind him.

But her laughter fills the air. “Oh no, darling,” she sneers, “That won’t be happening. After all, I have a good guard dog, dont I?”

If looks could kill, she’d be dead tens times over. Your blood boils as you stare at her, the rage bubbling up inside you at the sight of her face. Somebody needs to put her in her place.

“Bet you feel real powerful, huh?” you jeer, voice laced with venom as you take a step closer, your eyes locked on hers. “Getting everyone to do your dirty work for you since you’re too fucking weak to do it yourself?”

Her smirk falters for just a moment, irritation crossing her features briefly, but she quickly regains her composure, her eyes narrowing in dangerously on you. 

“Because you wouldn’t survive if I punched you, right?” you continue. “All this power, all this control, and you’re still nothing without someone else’s strength. You’re a coward, Lorna. You haven’t done a single thing without hiding behind someone else!”

The words hang in the air, and you can see the fury building in her eyes, her cool demeanour cracking under your insults. Her fists clench at her sides, her lips pulling back in a snarl as the mask of control she’s been wearing begins to slip.

“Shut up,” she snaps.

“What’s the matter?” you mock. “Is the truth too much for you? Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, you cunt.”

“You know I’m right, don't you?” You press on. “Without someone to control, you’re nothing. You’re just a scared little girl playing with other people’s lives because you’re too weak to live your own.”

She’s seething. “Stop it!”

You grit your teeth, refusing to back down. “You want to get back Logan for hurting you all those years ago?” you shout at her. “When he was just a victim to the same mind control you’ve been inflicting on all those other mutants!”

“That’s not true!” she hisses, but the denial in her voice is thin, wavering. If Logan was himself, he’d think about how you’re getting to her the exact same way she got to him—and he’d be so proud.

“You’re no better than they were,” you carry on. “Making him hurt me won’t change anything. It won’t make you any better than they were!”

“Silence!” Lorna cries. “It’s not the same! He doesn't get to be happy! He deserves to suffer for what he did!

“What he did?” you retort incredulously. “What he did was survive. He was manipulated and controlled! Sound familiar? You’re no different from the people you claim to hate!”

“ENOUGH!” she screams in fury, the word bouncing off the walls. “I’m nothing like them!"

“Are you sure about that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side in faux confusion. "What are you doing right now then?"

The rage in her eyes flare, and her fists are clenched so tightly her knuckles turn white. You wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to attack you herself. But then her gaze shifts back to Logan, and a creepy smirk dances on her lips as she refocuses her control on him.

“Go get her, Wolvie,” she commands, like a queen ordering her knight to battle. His body tenses, and next thing you know, you've become his target once again.

You jump to the side, quickly evading the oncoming threat, your focus never leaving the woman. “This is between you and me, bitch!” you shout.

“Oh, it will be,” she replies, her voice dripping with malice. “If you can get to me.” 

You know she must have used her mind-control to speak to him again, because he moves mindlessly, his body blocking your path to her, working as a shield. All you can do is hold back the scream of frustration that’s building inside you as you take in the scene.

The Logan you know is trapped inside, buried under layers of Shadowmind’s control, and the sight of him standing there, ready to protect her, infuriated you.

A humourless laugh escapes your lips. “You think that’s going to stop me?” you mutter dangerously.

The rage, the pain, the fear—it all coalesces into a single point of concentration, you lunge forward, your fist glowing with that molten heat as you pour everything into this final act. As fast and hard as you can, you slam your first into his midsection, just like you had done once before. The sound of tearing flesh and the sickening squelch of your arm piercing through him reverberates through the room.

Grabbing his shoulder with your other hand, you shove him back harshly, using every ounce of strength to close the distance between him and his puppetmaster. The force of your push is enough to drive him backward, your arm still embedded in his torso as you reach toward her. Your eyes lock onto hers, and you see the shock at the realization that her plan is crumbling before her eyes.

Your fist makes contact with her chest, and you drive it in even further. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes wide with terror. Logan’s body jerks violently, his muscles seizing as the control she had over him falters.

She gasps in agony, her power waning, her grip on his mind slipping away like sand through her fingers. It’s like you can feel it—the hold she had on him snapping, her influence retreating like a dying flame, flickering out.

But you can't celebrate yet. The job isn't finished. You yank your arm free from Logan’s body with a savage pull, and the force of your withdrawal sends him staggering to the side, body crumpling to the ground, finally free of her control but too weak to stand.

Lorna’s once smug expression disintegrates entirely, her eyes wide with unbridled fear once she senses her impending doom. 

“NO!” she screams in fright, but the sound is pitiful, and powerless. It’s too late. Far too late.

You grab her by the throat, her skin sizzling under your touch, the scent of burning flesh filling the room as she writhes in your grasp, her hands clawing desperately at yours, but you don’t let go. With a single, brutal twist, you snap her neck, ending her once and for all.

Her body falls to the ground, lifeless, and you stand there, breathing heavily, your chest heaving as the reality of what you’ve done slowly sinks in.

It’s done. She’s dead. 

As you turn your head to the side, your gaze falls on Logan. Your Logan. He's on his knees, blood pooling around him, his hands pressed tightly against the gaping wound in his midsection that’s slowly closing. His face is pale, drawn, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes, like he’s not entirely sure that he’s free, not entirely sure that he deserves to be.

He tries to speak, but the words seem to catch in his throat, his eyes glistening as he looks at you like he’s seeing a miracle. “Knifey,” he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse. 

You take a step toward him. “It’s over, Logan. We did it.”

Logan’s gaze drops to the ground, his shoulders slumping as he shakes his head, the weight of everything that’s happened pressing down on him. “You did it. I almost…” He trails off, his hands shaking as they drop to his sides, stained with his own blood. “I almost killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” You affirm, crouching in front of him. 

He doesn’t respond, his mind spiraling further into the abyss of self-loathing. “It’s my fault,” he mutters. “I let her do this to me.”

Shifting to your knees, you reach a hand out to rest on his arm. “It wasn’t you. Just like it wasn’t me when I was under her control. This was Shadowmind’s doing, not yours.”

He shakes his head, his hands coming up to tangle in his hair as if trying to tear away the thoughts that are consuming him. “It’s not the same,” he strains. “I was so close, if I just pushed against her harder…”

“No,” you say firmly, this time pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around him tightly. “You’re not to blame.”

“I hurt you,” he whispers, leaning into your touch. “I became the monster I’ve always been”

“You’re not a monster,” you murmur into his ear, “It’s over, she’s gone.” All you can do is try and erase whatever lies were put into his head. “I’m here, you’re not alone.”

Logan clings to you, the his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but your words slowly start to filter through the haze that Shadowmind left behind. They’re so different—so completely opposite—from the venomous lies she used to break him down.

Where her voice was cruel and cutting, twisting the knife deeper into old wounds, your voice is gentle, comforting, like a balm to his battered soul.

You’re telling him that he’s not a monster, that he’s more than just a weapon. You’re telling him that you’re here with him, that he’s not alone. Your words wrap around him like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge, anchoring him in a way that nothing else could.

A deep, overwhelming adoration blooms in Logan’s chest, spreading through him with a warmth that he hasn’t felt in what seems like forever. It’s counters the cold, empty feeling that he’s been always been carrying around with him, and that takes his breath away. He doesn’t deserve this—doesn’t deserve you—but here you are, holding him, comforting him, tugging him out of the void with nothing more than your presence.

He feels something shift inside him, breaking through the layers of self-loathing and hatred. It’s you—your words, your understanding—that does it, and it makes him realize just how much you mean to him, how much he needs you. For the first time in days, the fog in his mind starts to lift, and he begins to see things clearly again.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Logan brings his arms up around you, returning your embrace. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you, the heat radiating from your skin grounding him in the present, in the reality that he’s still here with you. He's not under control.

His heart is pounding in his chest, but it’s not from fear or anger—it’s from the overwhelming gratitude and feelings that are flooding his system.

Without thinking, he presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to your collarbone, the gesture filled with a quiet, aching affection. It’s a wordless way of telling you how much he cares, how much he’s grateful for you, for your strength, for the way you’ve saved him from himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You hold him even tighter, your fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on his back. The connection between you feels stronger than ever, as if this moment has solidified those unspoken, brewing, emotions between you. You tilt your head slightly, brushing a soft kiss against his temple in return. It’s simple, but it sends a rush through Logan, making his heart lurch in his chest. The tenderness of it all is almost too much, but in the best way possible. 

For so long, he’s been scared to open up, to let anyone see the vulnerable parts of him that he’s kept hidden. He’s always been the one to bear the burden alone, to push people away before they could get too close. But here, in your arms, all those fears seem to fade into the background. 

You’ve seen him at his worst—manipulated into a weapon, mindless and violent—and still, you hold him like he’s worth something, like he’s more than just a mutant to exploit. And in this moment, he realizes he wants to open up to you. He wants to let you in.

He feels a sudden, fierce need to protect this—protect you. He wants to try this out with you, see it where it goes. The fear of opening up to someone, of being hurt or abandoned, still lingers in the back of his mind, but now, it’s different. Now, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s found something worth fighting for on his own accord. No external influence. Just you. 

“Let’s get out of here” you say gently. “We can go back to yours, or mine. I have a bed we can share.”

Logan pulls back slightly, eyes softening at your suggestion. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that surprises even him. “Let’s get goin'.”

----

And that's exactly what you do. After the tender moment, you and Logan head back to his place, gathering what little you need and packing up the essentials. He doesn’t say much as he packs a small duffel bag with clothes, some weapons, and a few belongings. You can tell his mind is still elsewhere, likely replaying everything that’s happened, everything he was put through.

Once you’re both ready to go, you finally decide to ask the question that’s been nagging at you since he first came and attacked you. As you zip up your own bag, you glance over at him, who’s pulling on his jacket, and speak up, trying to keep your voice as gentle as possible. 

“How… how did she get into your head? How did she… take control?”

Logan pauses, his hand stilling on the zipper of his jacket as he looks at you. You can see shame cloud his vision, but he doesn’t shy away from the question. He lets out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall as he considers how to answer.

“She used my weaknesses,” he finally says. “Lorna knew what buttons to push, what wounds to press on… She knew how to get inside, to tear me down.”

You nod, trying to understand, but it’s hard to imagine Logan having any real weaknesses, at least in the way he’s describing. “What are they?” you ask quietly, stepping closer to him, wanting to offer whatever comfort you can. “What did she use against you?”

His eyes meet yours, and in it, there’s a vulnerability that you don’t think you’ve if ever seen. He hesitates, like he’s weighing whether or not to tell you, whether or not to let you in on the truth of what she did, or what you mean to him.

But then, his expression softens, and he simply says, “You.”

The word is spoken so tenderly, so earnestly, that it takes a second to fully sink in. When it does, your breath lodges itself in your throat, your heart giving a painful thud as you realize the full extent of what he’s saying. 

You are his weakness. You are the one thing Shadowmind can use to break him down, to get inside his head.

“Me?” you repeat, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. You’re the only person who has made me feel like more than a damn killin’ machine, and I’m grateful for that. Grateful for you.”

His admission is raw and honest, a reflection of just how deeply you’ve impacted his life, even if it’s only been a few short weeks. You’ve seen the man behind the claws, the heart behind the hardened exterior, and even though you may not have started off on the right foot, being in each other’s presence constantly has allowed you to share sides of yourselves you otherwise wouldn’t have.

You step closer, your hand reaching out to gingerly cup his cheek, feeling the rough scratch of his facial hair beneath your fingers. “The feeling’s mutual,” you say teasingly, referring back to your first conversation together, but he knows you mean it, because it's true. You are just as grateful for Logan as he is for you. He came into your life amidst chaos, and helped you navigate through it. 

His support, albeit not always the most straightforward, has been the only thing keeping you sane.

He leans into your hand, a shy smile gracing his lips at the intimacy of it all, while reaching out and wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you closer into his space. His warm breath fans across your skin, and for the first time in a long while, he feels something other than fear, self-hatred, or guilt.

He feels hope. Hope that he could move past this, live a normal life, one that's not shrouded in violence, manipulation.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmurs. 

You shake your head, a small, tender smile playing on your lips as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “Nothing is too good for you,” you say with conviction. “You deserve to be happy. No one, including you, can tell me otherwise.”

Logan huffs out a small, almost disbelieving laugh, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to yours. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the “p” with a cheeky smile. “But you like it”

There’s a fleeting moment, where neither of you speak, where all you can do is stare at each other. Your surroundings seem to fade away, the previous events already pushed back into the farthest place in your mind. All you can—want—to focus on in the man in front of you.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re both surging forward, crashing into each other with a passion that takes your breath away. The kiss is fierce, all-consuming, a collision of the feelings between you that have been building since the moment he found you on the street, since he told you he liked your smile, since he helped you in the kitchen. His hands are moving instantly, one slipping around your waist, pulling you in even tighter, connecting your body with his, and the other cupping the back of your neck. Your own hands grip the front of his jacket, your fingers curling into the fabric as you kiss him back, pouring everything into it.

It’s not gentle—there’s nothing tentative or hesitant about it. It’s hungry, desperate. You can taste the longing in the way his lips move against yours. Time seems to stand still, and all that exists is this moment, the heat of his body, the pounding of your heart, the way his breath mingles with yours in the small space between you. Each second blends into the next as you lose yourself in him. 

Eventually, the kiss slows, becoming softer, more tender. Logan’s lips brush against yours in a series of light, almost teasing pecks, each one lingering just a moment longer than the last. “You’re right,” he murmurs against your lips. “I do like it.”

Your chest swells, and you move your arms so they rest around his shoulders. “I knew it.” 

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re trouble, Knifey."

“Damn right I am,” you beam, stealing another quick kiss, savouring the way his lips curve into a smile against yours. “Too bad you’re gonna be stuck with me for a while, huh?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, the sound vibrating through you as he leans in, fondly nudging his nose with yours. “Yeah, too bad.”

----

A/N: thank you all for reading this series!!

----

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[caelesjjk]

simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips. 

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was. 

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls. 

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you. 

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house. 

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street. 

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents. 

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger. 

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?” 

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.” 

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?” 

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.” 

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.  

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.” 

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.” 

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it. 

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time. 

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders. 

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?” 

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

[arcanefox207]

The Golden Hour

QZ!Joel Miller x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.1k WC | AO3

Summary: On a crisp, autumn morning in the Boston QZ, you wake up in Joel Miller's bed and indulge each other during the golden hour.

Warnings: Reader age undefined. Established relationship. Minor Somnophilia. Unprotected P in V, Oral, Face Riding, Fingering, Cum Eating. Not beta'd.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3

The Golden Hour

The morning sunlight was getting bolder, painting stripes on your body as it peeked through the derelict blinds. You were fast asleep. Safe in the arms of your protector on a crisp fall morning in the Boston QZ.

Joel’s arm draped heavy over your side and his body was curled into yours. Your spine flush with his soft belly. He had you held close and his heat was exceptionally soothing underneath the ratty comforter. He pulls you tighter and his bare body carves perfectly against yours, engulfing you in his embrace.  

The bed creaks as he stirs behind you, pressing his semi-hard cock into the small of your back. He stretches to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder followed by another and another. Gentle but wanton as you slumber undisturbed. Your presence in his bed fills him with an eagerness to have you again.

You lightly bat your eyes open as you feel Joel tracing his fingers along the length of your body. His feather touch was gentle, as if he was trying not to wake you while he stole a secret moment with you. Mapping out the curves of your figure and committing it to memory. Tenderly brushing over your scars and bruises that the infected world branded onto you.

His arm curls over your hip and his hand finds the softness of your inner thigh, sliding it up higher and higher until he is at your center. You feel him pause briefly before he drags his fingers over your opening and gently grabs a hold of you. He can’t resist. The tiniest moan escapes your lips and he knows for certain you are awake. He places his mouth on your neckline for another kiss and whispers your name into your ear with the lowest growl. 

You press back into him. His voice and his touch making you wet in your hazy, sleepy state. His mouth messily leaves marks on your neck as he nips at you. You can feel him stiffen more and his movements getting more needy.  

He dips one of his fingers into your opening and curls it deep inside you, holding you even tighter against him while he lets you adjust to his presence. Having Joel inside you feels like home and you welcome him in, offering him the warmest comforts.  

You let out a faint moan as he adds another finger. He uses the heel of his hand to put pressure on your clit as he pins you between his hand and his hardening cock. He drags his fingers in and out of you at a tortuously slow pace, making you clench onto him. His expert hand knows exactly what you need.

You are fully awake now and needy for his touch. Your body was still sore from last night but it didn’t make you want him any less. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

“Mornin’, beautiful.” He whispers into your ear as he pulls his wet fingers from your slit, content with his teasing. He presses another kiss to the back of your shoulder and gently nudges you with his nose, breathing in your scent. His coarse whiskers prickle at your skin. 

You roll over to face him. His hand glides over your side as you turn and he claws his hand over your ass, grabbing you lazily and kneading with his big paw. In one fluid motion he pulls your hips to meet against his and locks eyes with you.

It was astounding how such a violent man could be so docile in the right circumstance. His gentle energy could be felt all over you as his hands kept busy. He was content in enjoying the softness of your skin and the warmth you afforded him. It only fueled your desire to bring out his raw and unleashed side. The side of Joel that had become your vice. 

He rolls onto his back with a groan, taking you along with him. You press your hands into his chest and look down on him. He looks pleased to have you sitting on him like a conqueror. 

The sun catches his grays and it fills you with gratitude that his ruthless survival has rewarded him with aging. A beautiful mark of perseverance too few get to experience anymore. In this moment he makes you feel nostalgic for the way life was before the outbreak. You wonder how much of Joel is left from before. How much of him is real and how much was shaped by what he’s had to do. What he’s done for you. 

He gazes up at you slyly, eyes half lidded. His mess of curls and unruly scruff  makes him look so soft. Comically angelic in the glow from the sun. Not the capable killer you know he is. A handsome devil in disguise on this beautiful morning.  

You lean forward and kiss him. Tasting him and it fills you with desire. Your tongues explore each other in a heated passion. His hands grab at you, one pinching at your nipple and the other sliding down your lower back. His fingertips dig into your spine as your roughness escalates. That inner fire had been ignited and was burning hot.    

You break away from him and pull back to fill your lungs with a delicious breath of air. His chest rises heavily as he does the same. Perched atop him with your legs straddling him, he has a gentle hold on your hips and rubs circles with his thumbs. His resolve to be patient is unwavering.  

His eyes are lustful and you need to have him. He was being so well behaved and restrained and it was turning you on more and more, knowing full well what lies beneath the surface. A conflict between wanting him to ravage you or to indulge in this rarity. 

He lets you dictate what happens next but not without tempting you with his own desires. He wants you just as badly, and nudges you forward. Admiring how delicate you look in the golden, autumnal glow of morning. 

“Let me have a taste of you?” He asks so politely while he pulls you towards him by your hips. You couldn’t say no to him if you wanted to, but you liked him asking so nicely. His innocent disguise was obvious but you let him think he is being cunning. 

“Just a taste.” You accept with a sly grin.  

You give into him willingly and he lifts you onto his face so you are straddling his head. 

He nudges his nose up your slit and grazes your clit. The curve of his nose carved perfectly for the task at hand. You reach your arms out to brace yourself on the headboard and hover over him just barely putting any weight on him. You can already feel your body pulsing for him.

“Sit.” He growls at you and pulls you down onto his face, muffling his command. 

You relinquish your body to him and let him lap at your folds and prod you with his tongue.  He grips you firmly and pulls you into him. Your nerves electrify as he sucks at your clit and drinks in your wetness. His muffled moans of enjoyment sending vibrations through your body as he eats you out.  

His masterful tongue works in tandem with his nose, making your feet curl and your head tip back. Your mouth gapes open as you breathe out his name in ecstasy.  

Your hands scramble to grab onto his hair as he fucks you with his mouth. You can’t hold back any longer and your orgasm washes over you. He relentlessly drinks up every drop he pulls from you while you convulse on top of his face until your body stills.

He places a kiss on your sensitive bud before he gently guides your hip back down to his chest. He wipes your slick off his beard with the back of his hand with a subtle, wicked smile. 

You catch your breath and feel your body still craving to have him inside you. Always hungry for more.      

He gazes back up to you, clocking your needy eyes. He groans as he adjusts his leg and finally acknowledges how hard he is. You want nothing more than to take care of him now.  

His cock comes alive as you slide further back and it falls heavy against his stomach. He was a sight to behold. A beauty you could never get enough of. You reach your hand between your legs and grab him at his base, running your thumb up the underside of his cock. He moans and his body writhes subtly underneath you. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

His eyes close and his mouth parts open just slightly. He relaxes his body and soaks in your touch. You trace his vein with your fingertips. 

You stroke his length with more vigor and notch the swollen head at your opening, letting it gather your returning slickness. 

With him being so docile you take the opportunity to use his body. You grind against the underside of his shaft. It twitches in your grasp, plump and seeping and soaked from your slick.   

A throaty groan escapes his lips as he tips his head back. He digs into your sides harder as he swells. You take it slow, giving him a taste of his own medicine from when he woke you. Letting him feel your heat grinding against his. 

You can’t wait any longer and need to have him fill you. You position him at your entrance and slowly take him inside you. Just the tip at first. Slow and disciplined. Your lazy morning energy is gaining traction with every inch. The momentum grows and your sensual moment with Joel escalates to a feral spiral.   

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you closer to him, making you sink down all the way on his cock. You gasp at the stretch as he holds you there for a moment. Being filled to the brim with Joel so tightly you marvel at how effortlessly he makes himself at home inside you. 

You watch him grit his teeth as he bucks up into you. With each thrust up he pulls your full weight down, making you scream his name as he pushes inside you deeper and deeper. Neither of you have a care in the world that you are waking up the whole apartment building. You suspect Joel takes pride in making you yell his name, letting everyone know that he has claimed you as your second orgasm surges.     

Your walls clench around him each time he starts to pull out, begging him to stay. He snarls when he can feel your body gripping him so tight and when he can’t wait a moment longer he lifts you off him and pulls out. He grabs his cock and pumps it as he cums, loudly. His cum spurting up and landing on your belly and dripping down to your cunt. His thrusts into his hand slow as the final spurts of cum drip over his hand and his body stills.

You want him to finish inside you, but the risk is too great. Another unfortunate construct on this broken world void of pharmacies and medical practices. He would never put you in a dangerous situation if it could be avoided. 

You take hold of the hand that was wrapped around his cock and bring it up to your lips. You look him in the eyes as you take his finger in your mouth and suck off his cum, slow and seductive. You wanted a taste too, after all. 

Joel stares up at you in a fucked out haze as you lick his second finger clean too. He was haggard and spent but a final spark flickered in his eyes watching you consume him. He had told you often how pretty you looked with his cock in your mouth. You mimicked it with his fingers covered in his mess.   

He cups his free hand on your jawline and pulls you down to kiss him, unphased by your obscene performance just prior.  

You lay down next to him, this time facing the window. He rolls onto his side up against you, stickier and softer than before. His hand stroking up and down your side in a soothing gesture.    

You end up just as you awoke. Wrapped up in Joel Miller’s arms with the golden sunlight, now a little higher in the sky, painting your bodies in shadows. The air smelling of sweat, sex and summer decay. 

He presses a kiss on the top of your head and holds you tight. You drift off together, savoring the final moments of the golden hour as it ticks away.   

Tagging my Loves / Mutuals / Joel girlies I hope will enjoy this 💛

@legendary-pink-dot @magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin

@redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40

@toxicanonymity @rifflovesjoey @pedrospatch @covetyou @alltheirdamn

@moonlitbirdie @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @jolapeno @djarinmuse

@mermaidgirl30 @schnarfer @mountainsandmayhem @mothandpidgeon @sin-djarin

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @guiltyasdave @perotovar @sawymredfox @sp00kymulderr

@cavillscurls @hellishjoel @strang3lov3 @aurorawritestoescape @pearlessance

@almostfoxglove @joelsdagger @littlemisspascal @lotusbxtch @burntheedges

Thank you so much for all the love. Comments/Reblogs are so appreciated. My inbox is always open and I want to hear from you! I like making new friends, I want to get to know you all and my super introverted self is putting myself out there 💛

Divider by @saradika-graphics and Banner by me

[saintobio]

₊˚✩ starlight.

pairings. l&ds xavier, fem!reader tags. 800+ wc. jealous bf!xavier, fluff, reverse hurt/comfort, main story long awaited revelry spoilers, altered some scenes, may or may not be inspired by his tender nights memory :’) dividers by strangergraphics.

xavier isn’t exactly the happiest when you returned to linkon city after being in the n109 zone. don’t get him wrong—he’s absolutely grateful that you came back safe and whole. it’s just that… he didn’t like how your eyes sparkled when you started mentioning his greatest adversary: sylus.

you’re obviously suppressing a smile too, as you reminisce the events that occurred between you and the onychinus leader. you’re particularly giddy about that moment at the auction, it seems, where you said you had to play the part of being sylus’s partner for the night.

dammit, xavier feels his chest tightening when he imagines those scenes in his head. he wants to cover his ears badly, but has no other choice but listen intently. all he can do is listen in silence and try to bottle every spark of jealousy that ignited within him. he has to pretend that he’s happy and proud of you, but then again, he just can’t freaking ignore the way your face lit up at the mention of sylus. 

xavier sighs as you continue your enthusiastic storytelling. fine, then. he sulks to himself. just have to get this day over with.

~

date night came, and as you walk through the city garden, you notice xavier’s silence grew more pronounced. you try to engage him, but his responses are rather curt, his usual warmth replaced by a cold distance. during dinner, even his favorite hotpot couldn’t lift his spirits. he would push the food around on his plate, barely having the appetite to eat.

huh? that’s new, you muse. xavier is usually the most excited to eat hotpot on a cold day.

when he takes you to your place later that night, the tension is palpable. you know you have to bring it up at that point. otherwise, this game of silence will never end.

“xav, is something wrong?” you try to ask in a soft, comforting voice. 

but xavier only shakes his head, forcing his usual endearing smile. “nothing’s wrong. you should go to sleep.”

~

that same evening, xavier sits at his desk, staring at his laptop screen for more than an hour. his fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating before he finally types into the anonymous forum.

starlight123: what do you do if your gf keeps talking about another guy? i love her, but it’s driving me crazy. any advice?

he hits post and leans back, running a hand through his hair. the minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. then, the replies start coming in.

anonymous user: talk to her about it. anonymous user: maybe she doesn’t realize how it’s affecting you. anonymous user: communication is key, bro.

but one comment stood out, cutting through the well-meaning advice like a knife.

anonymous user: it's game over for you, man. girls like toxic boys who treat them like dirt. you're too nice. she probably already slept with him.

xavier’s heart sank.. he quickly closes the laptop, feeling an uncomfortable pang on his chest. is he really losing you to someone like sylus?

~

the next few days are torture. xavier stopped responding to your messages. he stopped commenting on your moments posts. he won’t even ask you to play kitty cards or catch plushies on the claw machines. and even if you see him around, he’s always distant, giving you brief, obligatory smiles. he still greets tara warmly, but with you, there’s always this thick wall in between. he's acting like a stranger, as if he doesn't care about you, as if he's not dating you...

agh, you can’t stand it anymore!

one night, you find yourself knocking on his door, needing desperate answers for your desperate questions.

xavier then opens the door, sweaty and out of breath. a dumbbell lay on his living room floor, and his hair is pushed back, revealing a flushed face.

“new hairstyle?” you ask, stepping inside and noticing the sudden eccentricity in his movements. “what are you doing, boyfriend?”

xavier’s cheeks are limned with a red tint as he looks away. “nothing.”

“are you trying to gain more muscles?” you press, amusement edging your voice.

at this, he lets out a defeated sigh and finally faces you. “do you prefer tall, muscular guys?” the sudden question came out of nowhere, until it was followed by another, and that’s when you started seeing the pattern. “do you… do you like bad boys more?” 

“xav, why are you asking me this?” crossing your arms, you tilt your head so his avoidant eyes would meet yours. 

“well, you can answer me first.” 

“not until you look me in the eyes!” 

still, he refuses to meet your gaze and his voice wavers with insecurity when he spoke, “it's okay, i get it. you do prefer guys like that.” his eyes stays on the floor, turning his face away. “if so, then i may not be like them, but i can still make you happy in my own little ways.”

your heart immediately melts at his words. it all makes sense now. him working out in the middle of the night, him styling his hair up, him trying to act like he doesn’t care about you—he’s trying to be sylus!

stepping closer, you chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. “xavier, you’re the only one i like. i’ll never replace you.” you place another peck on his lips, then on his cheek, then on his nose. “besides, sylus is annoying. i prefer the presence of my very adorable golden retriever boyfriend!”

“you really mean it?” his puppy eyes stares at you earnestly.

your response is a confident nod. “i swear it. and, duh! lumiere is way hotter than him.”

his arms encircles your waist, holding you tightly as he lifts your chin and plants a tender kiss on your lips. the tension eventually melts away as you reassure him with your touch and your words. in that moment, all his jealousy and insecurity faded, now replaced by the warmth of your love. “you’re mine,” he reminds, nose nuzzling into yours. “i don’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

[diejager]

I know I already sent you an ask but could I get something for monster!141? Specifically Dragon!Price? Sorry for asking again but I love price and your writing!

Dragon Heart

Pairing: Dragon!John Price x fem!reader

Cw: knot, breeding kink, creampie, smut, fluff, morning sex, implied somnophilia, slow sex, romantic sex, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

You knew dragons ran hot, their bodies powered by the kindled fire in their hearts, breathing smoke and fire with every breath they took. European dragons were creatures synonymous with fire, the powerful blaze that humans coveted for warmth, protection and destruction, but Price was all but the latter with his ragtag group. You once thought that Soap - sweet, rambunctious Johnny - ran the hottest, his body exhuming heat in plumes of vapours, his body exhausting itself from rapid muscle growth. Now you knew better, nothing burned more than a dragon itself, his heart pulsing in powerful waves, warm and soothing, his body warmed by the will of fire that thrived within him. You felt it all, his body calling to yours, naked under the sheets of his bed, cradling his face between your arms after your nightly activities that would follow in the morning —a promise he whispered on your lips. 

You woke up to his soft kisses, severing his mark on your body just as his hands did on your wrists, and the rough scruff of his beard, tickling your cheek and throat as he moved down. He was hard between his thick thighs, the flushed head of his cock pushing inside you in a slow roll of his hips, your slick walls stretching around his girth. Price liked waking you up with slow and gentle sex, watching your eyes crack open while they rolled back and lips cracked open to let out a few sleepy mewls, feeling him fill you up. There was something in being woken up with Price inside of you on slow mornings, to feel the warmth of his body pressing you into the bed, soft sheets hugging you, and the heaviness of his cock, carving the shape of it inside you. 

Mornings like these were full of love and affection, unhurried pleasure and gentle caresses. Price - John, you called him behind closed doors - was a devoted lover, giving you much more than he received, finding pleasure in giving rather than receiving. He was a firm, but kind hand, soft but guiding, he took the reins and watched you unravel beneath him —much like a flower blooming, petals unfurling into the prettiest blossom he knew. Price was a strong lover, caring for you through anything with strong conviction, grounding in anything he ventured into, a strong hand reminding Ghost that you were here for him, a gentle hand grounding Gaz from his slight fears, a firm hand keeping Soap in check, and a protective hand holding you close. He was everything and nothing at the same time. He gave and never asked for more, taking what was given to him with a smile and warming eyes. 

While you liked the moments of shared animosity, clawing and biting at him, pressing him down on his desk and riding the life out of his cock, milking him for all his worth while he grasped and bucked into you, holding you captive under his burning gaze; you cherished these moments of domesticity, where he was neither captain nor were you his corporal. You weren’t restrained by duty or regulations, you simply held one another out of passion, one that had his heart soar and yours skip a beat. You loved him, you knew you did as much as he did, and he loved you so much that it hurt his old heart. He whispered your name, pressing his lips against yours, a soft and sensual act drawn out in lazy mornings and passionate gazes —he never failed to look you in the eyes when he expressed himself, telling you how much he cared and how much he would give for any one of you. 

“Love you, John,” you gasped, hips bucked up, searching for his cock to hit a certain spot inside of you, the gummy part of you that made you cry and mewl. “I love you.”

His kiss tasted like cigar and smoke, a woody taste similar to Ghost’s earthy bourbon, but Price’s was more powerful, a distinct taste of him. It laid heavy with love, it clung to you with such boiling joy that you smiled, eyes closed. Your fingers found his spine, the curve that went up to his singular wing, a vestige of an accident that left him crippled in the air, you pressed down, hitting a knot while he fucked into you at a steady pace. He groaned, his pace stuttering, jerkily bottoming out, his balls flush against your ass and his wild pubic hair scratching your throbbing clit. He shuddered and you knew he liked it, the relief it gave him when you pressed a certain knot in his back, the one that released tension and gave him more leeway to move about freely and without restraint. It was your way to give back when he wouldn’t take.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped, brows furrowed and blinking away the daze you put him in, having his cock milked and his back popped felt amazing, the immediate relief painted on his face, “You’re a blessing.”

He felt like a blessing to you, his heart, his body, his mind, and everything about him was a blessing to you and his team. A gifting dragon to his hoard, keeping and protecting what belonged to him. Words wouldn’t be enough for you to show him how much you appreciate him, you used acts, favours and everything you had to show it to him. Whether it be a sudden kiss on his lips that brought a smile on his face, the skin under his eyes wrinkling from how happy he looked, or the massages you gave him, unwinding all the tension in his body after a hard mission, hearing his pleasured groan and his struggle to stay still, to stop himself from snatching you up and give you all the love he deemed you worthy of.

You murmured confessions, praises directed at his character rather than his duty, proclaiming little whispers of love. You raked your nails down his back, fleetingly touching the base of his tail, thick and robust, curled around your leg, holding it over his hip for deeper penetration, the rounded head of his cock kissing your cervix despite your prone position —a vanilla morning sex in missionary. Your hands slipped under his arm, roving over his hairy chest and pinching his perky nipples, rolling the rounded nubs between your thumb and index. You felt him twitch, a soft moan leaving his swollen lips, still kissing you with feverish need. His nipples were sensitive, especially in the mornings when his body reacted much more than at night, he’d succumb to your little tease, jerkily thrusting into you. Every drive of his cock thickened the ring of white around his cock, the ribbed girth of it catching the edge of your cunt when he pulled out, bringing you mind-numbing ecstasy. 

You could feel the coil in your core tightening, the unwinding pleasure that followed the first spasm, walls clinging onto him. You let out a shuddered breath, feeling the ribs rubbing your sweet spot and his leaky cock throb against your cervix. Slick oozed out of your hole with each thrust, the motion pushing out yesterday’s load, cream jostled out of you, squeezed around his shaft. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he groaned, bowing his head over your shoulders, his breath hot and mouth nipping at your skin, threatening to sink his teeth and mark you for the others to see, for them to strew in jealousy that he had you all night long and the following morning. He spoiled and cared for you. “I want to hear you moan.”

Moan, you did, thighs tensing when your fingers circled your swollen clit, rolling the twitching nerve in rapid motions. You breathed laboriously, panting and gasping into his ear, mewling his name with teary and burning eyes, rolling back from pleasure and the thin veil of grey smoke that rose from his lips. It smelled like cedar, a smoky incense mixed with the natural scent of cedar and his strong cigars, a soothing and bitter smell. It drove you off the edge, his smell, his warmth, his body, and his voice sent you careening over the precipice of your pleasure, an explosive fire blinding you in white light, stars dancing around your sight as you clung to him. Your walls gripped in him a vice, clenching down on his cock and hand stuttering on your clit, the bundle of nerves sensitive and slick. 

He was sloppy, growling out praises, telling you how good you were for coming for him, confessing how he lived to bring you over the brink of relief and much farther, and mumbling how he’d ruin himself for you. It was wet and messy, he came with a single buck, snapping into you, his green-tinted balls slapping your ass wetly, and bottoming out, his knot catching and inflating with a deep groan. Hot cum filled you, ropes of potent semen shooting out of his red tip, engorged and throbbing against your gummy cervix. You felt like you’d bloat from how much he was spewing, imagining the bump of cock and cum under your skin, poking out in an erotic sight.

His back slumped over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him, face pressed under his chin and his wing covering you. You listened to his purr, a low sound meant to comfort you after sex or any other straining activity —similarly to a cat showing its joy and pleasure. Price always cuddled you while waiting out his knot, pressing his burning body against yours and spoiling you with words and kisses. His knot comfortably seated inside of you, keeping his load from going to waste, preventing his fertility from leaking out of you like the faucet-like jet of his tip, he murmured into your hair, nosing the few strands that clung to your forehead and kissed you deeply. You kissed back, fingers carding through his beard and bushy hair, nails scratching his scalp, being careful of his sensitive horns. 

“We have the day off, darling,” Price smiled conspiringly, blazing, amber eyes brimming with mirth, “Reckon we stay in bed a while longer?”

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