#now whisper not a word of them / or talon take your head

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"You know your way around the city." Dan commented, eyes narrowed once he realizes that Kitty and Johnny adapted a little too well to Gotham. Going to places even he didn't know existed, exploring and giving them intel he never realized was relevant. They knew history of Gotham in a way a local would. 

Johnny shrugged, turning back to Kitty who welcomed Ember with a bright smile. The two were squealing, talking about how they were going to help mess with Firefly after burning down a well-loved studio down town. 

For Dan, he wasn't going to intrude too much on his former rogues but... "You're from Gotham. Both of you." 

Johnny twitched, watching as Shadow moved to play with Elle in the air. 

"Yeah, we’re not too sure if our folks are still kickin’, but Kitty and me took off after they flipped over our thing. This place still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but hey, you guys are here. Gotham’s cool these days with all the furries and rogues runnin’ around." Johnny laughed, his cocky nature still burning bright, even when he looked almost melancholic at the memory of this place. 

No ghost was truly comfortable in their hometown, whether they died there or not. This was where they were born, where their lives began. 

"I see..." Dan mumbled, glancing to the space where Danny was usually in. His younger brother was off doing kingly duties again, slumped by work and the Observants pestering him about shit. 

There's a quiet knock on his door and Jeremy was poking his head into the room again. The ghosts didn't even care, continuing to be visible and floating around. Discomfort and a bit of fear was clear on the man's face but he turned to Dante with as much courage as he could muster. 

"Boss, we've got a lead on the missing kids." 

Ah, yes. The recent disappearances of children. He doesn't know where they go, what happens to them. All he knows is that children were picked of the streets and never to be seen again. 

"Someone's been takin' kids?" Kitty grimaced, not minding how Jeremy shuddered. "Dan, dear, darling! Send me and Johnny. We know this city better than Batman and his little birdies."

Again, Dan sighed. "Gimme a minute, Kitty. Not enough information." He grunts, turning to Jeremy to hand him the report. 

"Anything else?"

"Well... About the Bats..."

"They snoopin' around again?" 

"Trynna sniff out Phantom." Jeremy shrugs. "Red Hood's been pretty active. Heard he's been wonderin' about Phantom not visitin' the kids last week." 

"Thanks Jeremy. Tell Marigold I said hi." 

"Will do, boss!" 

Once Jeremy left, the other ghosts were swarming Dan like bees. Their eyes glittering with anticipation, excitement, and vengeance. It felt strange for them to pay attention, to follow him. Danny's always felt like the better leader, struggling and suffering in the role yet rising above it all. That was why he was the king now. 

"Alright, let's get to work. Most of these kids have one thing in common. Their skills. Flexible, acrobatic, and have some sort of combat training. Usually in self defence." Dan plugged in the USB into his laptop, projecting the screen on to the tv. "The latest disappearance is Layla Smithson. Fourteen. Gymnast and was sent to take taekwondo classes by her parents. Before that was Evan Chavez. Another gymnast but was also known to get into multiple fights."

"So whoever is takin' the kiddies, they go after the ones with pretty good skills." Ember hummed, turning to Kitty and then nudging her. "You've got anything to say about that?" 

"Well... Maybe." Johnny shrugs too. 

"Ooh! What about that nursery rhyme every Gothamites gets to listen. Y'know. About the court."

Dan frowned. "What court?" 

"The court of owls!" Kitty grinned, "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowy perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head." 

"Who the fuck uses that kind of shit for a nursery rhyme?" Dan scowled, but considered the possibility. "Any idea if they're real."

"Very." Johnny warned, "When Kitty and I died, we came back here a couple of times. Explored the place and tried to dig up secrets that would have killed us if we were livin'. One of 'em was the court. A secret society of a bunch off rich bastards."

"Johnny," Dan warned, knowing that something was still being kept from him. 

"There's another thing..." Johnny hesitated but Kitty took his hand and continued. 

Kitty grimaced, "The Court of Owls has a bunch of soldiers. They got this chemical they use on people, turnin’ ‘em into their own assassins. From what me and Johnny dug up a while back, these assassins were trained when they were kids. They call 'em Talons."

Dan wanted to yell, scream. Burn down the cursed with it's cursed bricks. Fuck. Fuck. Was the world always so shitty? 

"You're telling me... There's an entire secret society that uses chemicals to turn children into assassins?" 

Children.... Fucking children. They were weaponizing kids!

Ancients, he might just commit mass genocide again. 

"Alright. Alright. We leave the living people out of this. The court? Their talons? I want all of you prepared. I'm gonna contact Danny to drag Skulker and Wulf's asses here immediately."

Elle grinned, "GRAB AMORPHO TOO! We're gonna need his help if we want to dismantle the court."

The office is vacated quickly, with Elle dragging Ember and Kitty for girl time and Johnny runs off with shadow. Dan is left alone, frustrated at the new information before he does his best to summon his brother, the very annoyed ghost king that appears before him in full royal regalia. 

"A bit busy, Dan. Still tryin' to fight the laughing magician to help with getting rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Constantine is running around trying to destroy the GIW now." 

Dan snorted. He knew about John Constantine. The crazy motherfucker who's soul fragments were scattered around and Danny had to deal with the paperwork and mission to collect them all. 

"I know, yeah, sorry. I get that's important. But we've got a situation here."

"What would that be?"

"Secret society of rich fruitloops that are worse than Vlad. They're kidnapping children and making them into brainless assassins."

Immediately, the room grows colder than the far frozen. Danny's eyes are as green as they could ever be, but his pupils were an icy blue that would have made Frostbite shudder. 

"What do you need?"

"Skulker, Wulf, and Amorpho." 

"I'll send them on your way. They'll be here within 3 hours." Danny sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'll finish up things on my end to help."

"Sure thing, twerp."

"Fuck you." Fondly. 

"Fuck you too." Affectionately.

"OH! Your revenant was looking for you." 

"THE SEXY RED HOOD WAS LOOKING FOR ME?!" 

It was an entire week of silence. Of Wraith not doing anything at all. Even the rogues felt apprehensive to act on anything after Wraith's new subordinates started popping up to pester them. The reports were the same. Distorted footage, meta-human abilities, and a ridiculous amount of chaos. 

Apparently, Two face has waged war on one of them, named Ember. Riddler was also ready to throw hands with Specter. And then Harley and Ivy were hunting down a couple names Kitty and Johnny 13. Why they were named that, none of them knew. But considering Wraith and Phantom's titles, the entire group was Ghost themed. The majority of Gotham have taken to calling them the Ghosts. 

But then...

"Bruce... Get a look at this." Barbara's voice shook, horrified as she stared at the screen. Majority of the family was already in the cave, preparing to patrol once more. But their eyes were drawn to the screen. They all froze, struggling to fathom what the fuck was it they were looking. 

"Holy shit." 

Everyone was frozen, staring at the clear, untampered screen. 

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, reading the bloody message written on the wall of... He couldn't recognize it properly. "Farewell to the Court of Owls that once watched from their shadowy perch. Their talons covered in the blood of children they once purge. Farewell to their judge, the parliament says goodbye. To Talons, to owls, the ghosts says hi." 

And right beside the message was the hanging body of what Bruce recognized was the Judge of the Court of Owls. 

The Court of was in ruins. 

"Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" Tim screeched, almost stumbling as he stared at the morbid message. "The Wraith and his ghosts took out the fucking court."

There was a loud rev of an engine, momentarily dragging their attention to Jason who was hurriedly getting of his bike and taking of his helmet. "Fuck, you've already seen it."

"You saw it in real life?! Where the fuck is that? The location is distorted but the entire thing is being broadcasted to the entirety of Gotham." 

"There are two of 'em. That one's on the clocktower."

Barbara snapped her head towards him, "MY clocktower?!" 

"Sorry 'bour that Barbie. But it got the job done for them, all of Gotham know about the court now."

Bruce grimaced, "And the other location?" 

"Arkham... The Talon is the one being hanged up there. The message is shorter: Bye-Bye owls. Shouldn't have messed with the dead." Jason clicked his tongue, "That's either about the fact that the court has been messing with the dead or it's cause Wraith's group is called the Ghosts." 

Jason shook his head, knowing for the fact that he'd have to track down Phantom soon. His eyes turned towards Dick, who stared at the screen as if a burden was just freed from him. Jason thinks it has. 

They had found out about the Court a little while ago, then found out about Dick's situation with them. How the circus he grew up in was one of the facilities that groomed Talons. How Dick was supposed to be recruited as one when his parents died. 

"Dick?" Jason murmured, gently taking Dick's hand. The other man jolted, his domino mask hiding whatever emotions there was in his eyes. 

"Little Wing..." 

"C'mon. Let's go grab some of Alfred's cookies. The rest of the family can deal with this." Jason quickly hurried his older brother out the cave, urging him to change our of his suit. 

Dick, once again, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, struggled to understand that his nightmare that was the Court was finally dead. Most likely slaughtered by the hands of a new crime lord, a rogue that seemed desperate to keep children safe. He held the tea tightly, closing his eyes as Jason sat opposite to him. 

The court was dead. 

Talon was dead. 

"I'm gonna go look for Phantom in a bit." Jason hummed, trying to appear comforting to Dick. 

And the image of the Judge of the court's body hanging from the clocktower flashes in his head again. 

"Jason." Dick whispered, "Get me a meeting with Wraith."

"What?" Jason blinked, "Dickie, no. Wraith might seem like a pretty nice guy with how he's protecting the kids, but he's still..." He paused, "He's still like me." 

"I need to meet him, Jaybird. I need to confirm that the Court is gone for good. He's the only one who can do that for me." 

"Why would Phantom even let you meet him?"

Dick frowned, sucking in a deep breath before taking Jason's hands. 

"Tell him that Nightwing was supposed to be a Talon."

Part 4 | Masterpost

[obito-in-disguise]

| How they handle falling for you, realistically |

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, and Kamo Choso.

Gojo Satoru

When Gojo Satoru realizes he's fallen for you, hard, he starts avoiding you completely.

Beneath his playful and confident exterior was an eerily serious demeanour that you rarely ever got to see, until now.

It hurt like hell. Satoru went from showering you with his affection and time, to giving you curt responses and zero contact. The worst part? When you approached, he’d immediately turn away or take a long detour. As if the mere sight of you was too much.

His eyes widen when you suddenly burst into the supply closet he's been hiding in for the past twenty minutes, hurling a cardboard box filled with gifts and items he’d given you directly at his face the moment he opens his mouth to speak.

"Save it, Satoru. I don’t care anymore."

He grips the box tightly, knuckles white. The sorrow in your eyes was like a blade piercing through him, exactly what he didn’t want.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He’d convinced himself that distancing himself was the easiest way to end this. God, he was an idiot.

Quickly, he shoots up, grabbing your arm the moment you turn to walk away. He'd be damned if he didn't try to do something.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

His voice is softer than usual, almost a whisper, in stark contrast to the force with which he holds onto your arm.

You inhale a shaky breath. "You could’ve just told me you didn’t feel the same way." Your gaze flickers anywhere but at him, fighting back the tears. This whole situation was humiliating.

As soon as the tears well up in your eyes, he instinctively pulls you into a crushing hug. He couldn’t stand to see you cry, especially because of him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he repeats, voice trembling. "You deserve better…and that isn’t me. I’m no good for you." His face buries into the top of your hair, his words a whisper, pained and filled with regret.

And that was it? That’s why he made you feel like garbage? You sigh, exhaling a breath of relief before pulling back and smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"-What…ow…" he clutches his arm, wide blue eyes staring at you in disbelief.

"You’re an idiot, Satoru" you say, softly this time, your hand gently caressing the spot you hit in a silent apology, but you grip it when you see him open his mouth to argue.

"I'm not a child, Satoru. I think I can decide what's good for me." You offer a small smile, one that immediately melts away all his defenses.

"And that’s you."

Ryomen Sukuna

Falling for someone was not in Sukuna's nature. Love was a weakness, a frivolity that he had neither the patience nor interest for. Yet, there you were, pulling threads of his attention he hadn’t willingly given.

You had been a prize he claimed during one of his many raids, a servant he’d kept around because, quite frankly, he found you amusing. He’d given you several opportunities to flee, and yet, you stubbornly stayed, either stupid or somehow enjoying his presence.

"You’re staring again" you said, not even looking up from the book you were reading.

"I can look at whatever I want. This is my kingdom" he replied, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

You snorted. "You're so humble too…"

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Careful, brat. I don’t take kindly to disrespect."

But his words lacked the venom they usually carried. He found himself indulging in this back-and-forth, this bizarre game where you didn’t fear him, where you met his taunts head-on. It was thrilling in ways he didn’t quite understand.

"Or what?" you say, flippantly lifting your feet and crossing them on top of his expensive furniture. The other servants gasped in horror, half-expecting him to snap, but he simply barked out a laugh, flashing his sharp claws in a half-hearted scare.

"Care to find out?" he challenged, dragging one long talon up your pulse point.

Your eyes flicker to his, unimpressed, before you yawn and grab the hand by your neck, cuddling into it and closing your eyes, putting the book away.

Yep. He knew he had definitely fallen when he found himself staying still, barely breathing, so as not to disturb you as you fell asleep, resting against his large hand, a weapon of death and mass destruction.

As you slept soundly, he watched you in the dim light. He could end you with a flick of his wrist, yet the thought was unthinkable. You trapped him in a web of contradictions, frustrating, fascinating, infuriating.

Leaning closer, his voice softens into something almost contemplative as he whispers, "Congratulations, brat. You’ve done the unthinkable."

To love wasn’t his intention. But Sukuna didn’t play fair. If he was falling, he’d make sure you fell harder, and there would be no escape.

Nanami Kento

The realization hit him one evening when you insisted on walking with him home after a long mission.

Every one usually went home in groups or pairs depending on where they lived, but Nanami never had anyone to walk with him.

It wasn’t necessary, he told himself he couldn't care less but, there was something about being left alone that chipped at the human soul.

“You don’t have to do this” he said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets to avoid brushing against yours.

You simply smile up at him. “But I want to.”

He kept replaying that simple statement over and over. It wasn’t extravagant or particularly sentimental, but it struck him.

"Besides, I think it's about time we become best friends don't you think Kento?"

He stares at you for a good minute wandering if you were crazy. He wasn't the most approachable of persons and he liked it that way, but here you were walking him home and extending an offer of best friendship to him like this was kindergarten.

If Nanami wasn't enthralled before, then he definitely was now.

He takes your heavy bag from your hand before slinging it over his shoulder, ignoring your look of surprise and subsequent grin of victory.

Having somebody to walk with home everyday wouldn't be that bad he decides.

"Consider this a formal acceptance"

Fushiguro Toji

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” he grumbled, though the corner of his lips twitched upward when you laughed.

Toji wasn’t the type to fall for anyone anymore. Life had made him hard, and love had never been a luxury he could afford.

But you? You were the exception he never saw coming.

“Bother you? I’m the best company you’ll ever get, Fushiguro.”

He only said things like that to hopefully deter you but you didn’t back down, and somehow, that was what broke down his walls.

Every sharp comment, every cold glance he threw your way, you met with puzzling warmth instead.

He hated how easily you got under his skin, how he found himself looking forward to the moments you’d spend together, even if it was just you rambling about nothing while he pretended not to care.

Toji knew he wasn’t a good man. He didn’t deserve you, and he knew it. But the way you looked at him, like he was more than just the sum of his past mistakes, made him want to believe, even just for a moment, that he could be something more.

He sighs, wrapping his arm around you and all but pulling you into his side as he continues to watch TV lazily, the ghost of a smile on his lips when he hears you giggle.

This was going to be a pain, but when was Fushiguro Toji ever afraid of pain?

Geto Suguru

"Is it to your liking?" Suguru asked with his usual charm, his head resting on his fist as he played with your hair, sitting across from you.

Suguru could feel his heart pounding louder when you smiled and nodded before sipping the tea he made.

He’d always been selfish, he knew it. He shouldn’t let himself feel this way, shouldn’t let himself dream of a life where you smiled at him every day.

You had no idea what he harbored, what he was about to become. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of these thoughts, you’d seep into his mind relentlessly.

"What are you thinking of Sugu?" you asked, setting your cup aside and intertwining your hand with his on the table.

He simply smiled in response, pulling your hand to his lips to place a lingering kiss.

He would let himself fall for you, indulge in you, before he had to let you go, before you would eventually face the horrors he would become.

Kamo Choso

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn around and immediately come face to face with Choso.

"Choso! what are you doing!"

He immediately takes a few steps back "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You sigh nodding. Staying mad at Choso is impossible, especially when he looks at you like that, like a kicked puppy.

"I have strange feelings for you" he immediately blurts out as soon as he sees that you're ok.

The confession stops you in your tracks. “What?” you ask, eyes widening.

"When I'm around you, my heart feels funny, and the other day when that guy put his hand on your shoulder, I wanted to rip his guts out-"

"woah! ok Choso, I get it" you chuckle, patting his shoulder.

"I just wanted you to know" he murmurs softly, fiddling with his fingers. He knew people got together when they had these strange feelings for eachother and more than ever he wanted that to be you and him. So he had to tell you, even if you didn't feel the same way. You were a chance he was always willing to gamble on.

"Well Choso..." you start, grabbing his hand softly before stepping closer. "Today's your lucky day because I have strange feelings for you too"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he can't stop himself. He scoops you up into a bone crushing hug, laughing along with you. Even if you hadn't said yes, Choso was more than grateful to have you in his life.

Enjoyed the story? check out my other Jujutsu Kaisen fics and more stories!

[lovelettersforthedamned]

craving some angst with fluff at the end or like hurt/comfort with peter because im delusional and like to imagine them in my head and in the end it makes us stronger as a couple (i have no idea what im talking about rn) - 🎀

Fight For You

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 1.9k

✮ summary: when you find peter battered, bruised, and barely hanging onto life, you make a rash decision to help him in a fight against vulture. when you get hurt, your mind brings you to a place of guilt.

✮ warnings: language, violence, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a few kisses, reader overthinks.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist

not my gif

The crowd around you couldn’t have been more packed. You’re pushing against the flow of people pushing past you, trying to flee from the scene before you. Any normal person would. But as your boyfriend starts to limp his way towards Vulture, you begin to shove yourself towards him. 

Before he left, he gave you a quick kiss and pleaded for you not to follow him. He knew you were safer in your apartment, but of course, you didn’t remain in the safety of your home. You held your phone tight as you scrolled through the live news, tracking down the focal point of the action. That’s where you find yourself standing at a barricade, watching your Peter clutch his side, barely rising to his feet. 

You have an iron grip on your phone, your knuckles turning white as you fight the urge to hop over the metal. Police cars line in front of you, acting as a second line of defense. Their guns are drawn, focused on Vulture as he towers over your boyfriend. Peter is exhausted, you can tell by the sway in his movements. And when the winged man knocks him to the floor, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and a quiet plea leaves your lips, “Please, Peter. Get up, get up.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you open them back up, and you wish you didn’t. Peter is still on the floor lying face down as Vulture laughs, walking towards Peter. The urge to shout after him almost escapes your lips before you realize your surroundings, your words stuck in your throat. 

With the crowd now clear behind you, you feel isolated. Your focus is entirely on Peter, your eyes never leaving his body. Peter is trying to push himself off the ground, but before he succeeds, Vulture plants his claw on his back, keeping him in place on the pavement under him. “No,” you couldn’t hold back the words from escaping this time. Jumping over the barricade, you barely make it another step forward before two police officers hold you back. “Get up! Please, Spider-Man,” you yell, catching both men’s attention. 

“It looks like Spider-Man has a fan!” Vulture turns your head towards you, another full belly erupts from his stomach. You’re thrashing against the hold of the officers beside you while the others stand up straighter at the pivot of the bird’s attention, guns drawn. 

You couldn’t care less for the outcome of your actions, you needed Peter to be alright, and if this is what it takes. Then so be it. 

The moment Vulture’s foot is lifted off of Peter’s back, you take a breath before it’s stolen away from you again. He’s starting to walk towards you, his eyes trained on you as he approaches. The police begin to fire. The bullets don’t penetrate the metal suit, instead, they fall at his feet. 

“You have balls, I’ll admit. But you are incredibly stupid, sweetie,” the officers who were once at your side are now shoved to the ground before he reaches for your throat. His grip tightens when he lifts you off the ground, bringing you to where Peter lies. You’re trying to pry his claws off of you, but in response he squeezes tighter, drawing blood from the sharpened talons of his gloves. 

He examines your face before throwing you on the floor next to Peter, landing on your back. You cough before turning to face your boyfriend’s masked face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Reaching up to your throat, you touch the indents on your neck. They’re not too deep, but the blood rushing down your neck makes you lightheaded. And when you glance at your fingers, you sigh when you see red. 

Your eyes flutter, oh shit. You bring your hand back to your neck, applying pressure like Peter taught. “Baby–Baby, hey,” he says your name before groaning as he pushes himself closer to you, “you gotta stay awake, okay?” 

You barely nod, as you wince at the pain, the adrenaline leaving your system; leaving you with the reality of your injuries. “Do you know her, Spidey? No wait,” he pauses, putting the pieces together, “That’s your lady, isn’t it?” 

Fuck. He’s figured you out. You groan loudly, “Wow, captain obvious. Do you have anything else you want to share? Maybe the sky is blue?” You laugh at yourself, the signs of blood loss showing. Turning your head towards Peter again, you smile, “Kick his ass, Pete.”

A second wind comes to Peter when he hears your backtalk towards Vulture. A little reminder that you could very well handle yourself, but the sight of your blood appearing on your hands lit a flame of anger within him. He pushes himself up with haste, he turns to look at you one more time, “Don’t close those eyes!” And in response, you wave your other hand at him.

He makes sure to push the fight far away from you, his senses throwing him into overdrive as he focuses on your heartbeat while throwing punches. If you were willing to throw yourself into a fight defenseless for him, Peter knew he was guaranteed to defend you from death’s grasp. 

✯✯✯

You could’ve sworn you only blinked, but the change in scenery caused a wave of confusion to flood your senses. You were in a hospital room, and the smell of the sterile atmosphere along with the cold white lights above you made your head spin. But still, you take a deep breath as you look around. Your body relaxes at the sight of Peter leaning into his hand, his body awkwardly sitting as he sleeps. 

There is a dryness in your throat that makes you wince, you try to clear your throat to call out to Peter, but what comes out is a pathetic-sounding wheeze of air. You rasp, “Peter.” Repeating yourself for the second time, his eyes fly open, his heightened senses picking up on your call for him. 

He rushes to your side, grabbing your hand softly as he looks down at you, a look of worry apparent in his eyes. You can see his gaze flicker down to your neck, and as you reach up to touch it, he speaks, “I brought you here right after I finished with Vulture. That was about 2 days ago, bug.” He sniffles, he’s trying to hide his emotions as he’s holding back tears. “There was just,” he pauses, his throat tightens, “there was so much blood.” 

Your heart breaks at the sight of him in front of you. He won’t let go of your hand as he breaks down in tears. You push yourself to the other side of the small bed, leaving a space for Peter to join you. Tugging on his hand, you clear your throat again, hoping that this attempt at talking is more successful than the last time. “Pete,” your hoarse voice cracks to life, “lay with me. Please.” 

He carefully lays down beside you, making the already small hospital bed feel even tighter. His cheek was squished against your shoulder while his arms snaked around your torso. You both needed this after the week you’ve experienced. Peter thought he was going to lose you, and you know that pain. So having the roles reversed pulled at your heartstrings. 

A part of you felt guilty. You were the one that gave Peter a reason to worry. Maybe he just needed another moment to get up during the fight. You couldn’t help but think that you were reckless; just another burden for Peter to carry, especially when you throw yourself into danger like that. While laying in bed with him, you nuzzle into him a little more, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill past your lash line. 

How could I be so stupid?

Your ear can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. The pattern somehow makes your guilt feel worse. Maybe it’s because of your uneven breathing, or maybe the wetness on Peter’s shirt, but he pulls his head back, craning it down at you. And when he sees you trying to conceal your quiet sobs, his hands are immediately on the sides of your face. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you cry, “I’m an idiot for running to you like that. I made everything ten times worse!” You’re hysterical. You can’t stop the tears that rush down your cheeks, landing into Peter’s palms. 

You made Peter’s biggest fear come true. 

And for that, you couldn’t apologize enough. “Hey, hey, hey,” he gently says your name, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He tries to pull you back to reality, grounding you in any way he can. His eyes are searching for yours behind your tears. “Baby,” he starts, “you’re incredibly selfless, I knew that since the moment I met you. You would go to the ends of the earth for a stranger if you could. That’s just who you are, and I’d be evil to ask you to change that about you.” 

You were able to take a breath, trying to calm yourself down. Peter’s kind words eased your overthinking, causing a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. You felt stupid for an entirely different reason. You knew that Peter would never be too angry at you for doing what you thought was best for him, but it still affected you in an unfathomable way. “I love you,” you wipe your damp eyes before looking into his. 

Peter grins before pressing a smiley kiss into your lips. You take a deep breath as your lips meet, a wave of euphoria floods your senses. If there was one thing Peter could do, it was make you feel like a teenage girl all over again. He filled your stomach with butterflies every time he kissed you.

Pulling away, you smile back at him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of this stupid cramped bed,” you look around, “and while we’re at it, I hate hospitals.” Peter laughs at your sudden discomfort with the surroundings. “Wait,” you pause, looking at him, “did you take me here in your suit?”

“Is that really what you want to know right now? Not how I absolutely destroyed Vulture?”

“Mmm, no,” you laugh. 

He shakes his head at you, giggling, “Yeah, I brought you here in my suit. Figured it was faster than an ambulance.” Your eyes are moving, as you piece together the story before groaning. Peter’s extremely confused at the sounds coming out of your mouth, he playfully shoves your shoulder, “What’s wrong now?”

You sigh, “I wish I could’ve seen everyone’s faces when Spider-Man carried a girl bleeding from her neck in here.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. He lifts himself off the bed, not before you stop him, a pouty look on your face. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get out of here,” he lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “I think we have like ten minutes before someone will notice you’re missing.” Peter grabs your clothes, and tosses it to you, “Let’s get you home, bug.”

✮ author's note: hi all!!! just a little hurt/comfort to spice up your tuesday night! i had a blast writing this because im a sucker for hurt/comfort and angst:p. thank you to the lovely 🎀 anon for this request! my asks/inbox is open!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you see something you like.

[kookiestiddies]

2 | two for two

series m.list

what's the worst that could happen at a party?

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, attempted humour

A/N: thank you so much for reading! updates will come...when they come ;-; if you are curious to know, I listened to this song while writing this fic. This really helped me figure out jk and oc's dynamic sort of. Also, i do not own these photos, I got them off of pinterest lol👍🏼happy reading this silly chapter weeee

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜���˖°

The Jeon twins made for an odd pair. 

While they lived up to their title in terms of mannerisms and speech patterns, physically, they were as different as can be. 

If it weren’t for the inky patterns that lined their arms and possibly other parts of their body, their matching set of doe eyes, and the sudden dips in each cheek that always appeared after the sight of a familiar face or a well-told joke, you could never have guessed that they were once womb-mates.

While Chaeyoung thrived in bright shades of pink and white, Jungkook opted for the brooding presence of blacks and anything else no brighter than navy blues. Where she was all softness and curves, he was a sketch-up of hard lines. On the days when Chaeyoung wore butterfly clips in her hair that complimented her flowy dress and Mary Jane heels, Jungkook styled his mullet, wore more silver jewellery than you could count, and stalked about in black stompers.

Just a few months into your new company of friends, you were quick to learn that the whole lot of them were party animals, almost always on the lookout for nights of alcohol-induced shenanigans, and shameless whoring, twerking, strutting and queefing around as Jimin had so eloquently put, while you were decidedly not.

“You’ll come won’t you,” Chae asked you as she grasped your upper arm and looked at you with puppy eyes. 

“I won’t,” you answered with a sickeningly sweet smile. 

It was on a Friday afternoon when you had been in the middle of your solo biweekly revision session that Chae’s familiar cotton candy head had popped over the sea of silence that engulfed the library. Students glanced at her with annoyance as she noisily clacked her heels over the floor to where you were seated in a single booth towards the back corner. You were also quick to notice the quiet thud of a pair of stompers that followed her suit. 

“Told you she wouldn’t be into it,” Jungkook said dismissively with a blank expression and lazily leaned against the side of your booth. “Oh c’mon, you can’t abandon me like this!” Chae whined and tightened her grip on your arm. It was starting to hurt honestly. 

The girl sitting in the booth across from you sent an angry “Shh!” in your trio’s direction. 

You lowered your head in embarrassment and gestured to the twins to quiet down. “Babe, what do you mean, abandon you? I love you and everything and I truly appreciate our friendship and all, but we really haven’t known each other long enough for this to be that deep,” you said with a look on your face that said you were joking. Jungkook snorted loudly at that.

Another “SHH!” landed on you again. Bitch.

“Y/n! I can’t handle another night of taking care of Jimin and Nayeon’s horny asses. Do you have any idea what the bullshit those idiots put me through?!” Chae cried. Her grip on your arm tightened even more. 

Jesus fuck, does she work out?!?

“C’mon Chae, I told you she wouldn’t be into it. You said you’d prove me wrong. You didn’t. You owe me ice cream now. Let’s go,” Jungkook said monotonously and stood up as you hopelessly pried Chae’s hands away from your arm. 

“Chae, please let go, you’re killing me here,” you whisper-scream, admittedly scared of the chick in front of you.

Luckily, the shrill ringtone of Chae’s phone suddenly cuts through the air and leads her a short way away from your booth to answer the call, gorilla grip talons and all. Both Jungkook and you noticed the irritated look on the girl across and shared an awkward-embarrassed look with each other.

“What? Did you guys bet on me going to the party or something?” you redirected, looking between the twins. He shrugged. “Am I only worth some ice cream?” you joked mindlessly. 

“If you must know, it’s really cheap, grocery store ice cream…” Jungkook said quietly, but not quiet enough to escape your earshot as you massaged your arm (which will probably bruise tomorrow).

Asshole. 

“Oh? Is that so? Everyone knows that cheap, grocery store ice cream tastes miles better though, compared to whatever premium coco-mocha-pumpkin-spiced-latte-ariana-grande ice cream I’m sure the likes of you enjoy,” you banter. 

At this, he stares at you, glides his eyes up and down your figure, and smirks. 

“I mean… I didn’t even say that that’s my taste.”

“What is your taste then?”

“Cheap, grocery store ice cream,” he says with a shy smile.

Is he flirting with you?

Jesus christ, that was a weird exchange, why in the world would your heart be thumping over that? (Because it was.)

Yes, the textbook incident did leave you upset with him for a long while. But your parents taught you that bygones should be bygones. 

After all, he did get down on his knees for you. 

The memory of Jungkook crouching before you haunted you for an embarrassingly long time after, especially given that all your friends witnessed it and never failed to tease the two of you about it, except for Taehyung who still curses the heavens to this day for punishing him with boring TA sessions on that day when he could have been there in person to see it. 

You had claimed to have forgiven him then and there itself, not because you actually meant it, because it would take much more than that to get over how trashy Jungkook’s 50 dollars had made you feel, but just to get over the attention he was bringing to the two of you in the crowded cafeteria. 

No, Jungkook getting down on his knees wasn’t enough. But you didn’t have to say that for him to know, because he saw right through you.

After two weeks of being forced to hang out thanks to your shared friend group and an infinite amount of awkwardly skirting around each other, Jungkook one day approached you alone in the library lugging a bag in his hand. When you looked up at him, he shifted his eyes away to the muddy textbook that lay open on the table and cleared his throat. 

“Here,” he’d said and thrust the bag that weighed a tonne towards you. You wordlessly took it and gave him a curious look. In that moment, he’d reminded you of a child in kindergarten being forced to apologise to the classmate he’s made fun of, looking sheepish and awkward.

In the bag were brand new textbooks. Hardcovers at that. Sitting on top of them was a large pack of your favourite corn chips that you always had on you to munch on. You were surprised to say the least. Not only did you not expect him to be thoughtful enough to replace your textbooks, but you didn’t pin him to be observant enough to know your favourite snack.

“Sorry again…about your books,” he mumbled out while rubbing the back of his neck. You were quiet for a moment, Jungkook’s actions once again leaving you too stunned to speak. 

“Apology accepted,” you quietly replied. And with that, the textbook incident was a chapter closed.

Ever since then, Jungkook and you had to find your footing around each other in your friend group, now on more amicable terms. For Jungkook, it meant getting comfortable around you, which you learnt meant that he would find ways to tease you and somehow always managed to find a way to get under your skin and rattle you. For you, it meant constantly getting annoyed at him and letting him know of that.

It was deeply unsettling how he constantly one-upped you with his comments. You figured you’d rather not engage with him at all in any way or form.

You let out a huff at him and say, “Whatever. This is a really dumb conversation. Hope you enjoy your ice cream, whichever one it is that you end up getting,” before turning back to your work so that he can’t see your cheeks that were beginning to feel hot.

Jungkook was still looking at you, with what you suspected was hesitance.

You look back and raise a questioning brow at him. 

Just as he opens his mouth, Chae saunters back over and unknowingly interrupts him. “Hobi’s here,” she announces while looking around the library. All the focus you had on Jungkook is abandoned immediately as you whip your head around to look for the sight of a familiar sunny grin.

It doesn’t take long for you to find it as its owner walks over to your group with a bickering Jimin and Taehyung in tow. Taehyung’s hands are flailing everywhere and he’s bouncing around with Jimin looking at him in ridicule while trying to get him to calm down.

“What are these idiots fighting about now,” Chae mutters under her breath.

“They're not just friends, okay? They’re soulmates. Hollywood soulmates. There’s a difference," you hear Taehyung say passionately as the trio came within earshot, making Jimin burst out a screech while Hoseok chuckled. You sneak a glance at the girl across and you’re pretty sure you catch her shaking in anger or something. "Soulmates? Come on. They’ve known each other since, what, middle school? That’s just a lifelong bromance," Jimin retorts.

“Hey guys,” Hoseok threw at the twins and you. You were the only one who bothered to reply with one yourself. Chae was too invested in Taehyung and Jimin’s conversation to respond while Jungkook seemed to be in a mood all of a sudden, his eyes fixated on the way Hoseok walked over and leaned against the table facing you. 

“What are they arguing about?” you ask Hoseok. Before he could answer, Jimin voices it out himself exasperatedly. 

"A bromance doesn’t survive Oscars, Batman vs. Bourne debates, and that time Ben got way too into Dunkin’ coffee. That’s a bond,"

“But what does that have to do with why JLo and he aren’t good together???” 

“It has to do with everything!”

“EXCUSE ME, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE EITHER KEEP IT DOWN OR LEAVE THE LIBRARY?!” the girl from earlier finally explodes at your seemingly ever-growing gathering.

“Jesus fuck, yes, yes! We’re leaving,” you bellow out, annoyed and terrified, and start packing up your things.

“We’re leaving?” Chae asks, finally tuning in back to you.

“We are?” Taehyung asks.

“But we just got here,” Jimin adds pitifully. 

It’s your turn to be exasperated as you say “Shut up, please, all of you. We’re getting out of here and going somewhere less quiet so that we don’t seem too much like animals.” You finish packing up and head towards the exit, throwing a measly ‘sorry’ to the girl ahead of you without waiting for a response. The rest of the group moves over similarly like a school of fish.

While Jimin and Taehyung carry on their argument, this time with Jungkook joining in (his contribution being the Dunkin’ lore), Hoseok catches up to you and Chae. 

“Are you sure you’re not gonna change your mind about coming to the party?” Chae tries again.

Hoseok cuts in before you could answer, “What, you mean the one happening tomorrow night?” She nods in confirmation. “She doesn’t want to go but I want her to,” Chae whines. 

“This is gonna hurt Chae, but frankly speaking, I don’t care what you want,” you say curtly, making her huff and setting Hoseok off with laughter. 

“Shut the fuck up, that wasn’t even that funny!” Chae whines at Hoseok. “No, but it’s what your entitled ass deserves,” he throws at her, causing her to fume.

“Who are you calling entitled?!? Jungkook, did you hear what they’re saying about me?” she screeches at her brother. Said brother turns to her and says, “I did and I agree, you are entitled and I also don’t care about what you want.” Now the whole group is laughing along. 

“That’s it, I’m calling Nayeon, you know… a real friend,” Chae huffs and gets distracted by her phone. Hoseok takes this as an opportunity to lean over and put his arm around you. 

“I know we’re joking and all, but I’d really like it if you’d change your mind about the party,” he says softly. 

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not really my thing, ya’know? Besides, I have Mr Byrnes class to study for. He keeps talking about a test that isn’t even in the study plan and it’s making me paranoid that he’s going to surprise us with a pop quiz one of these days,” you ramble as he listens attentively. 

“C’mon, it’s just one night. Just have some fun. And I promise that I’ll watch out for you, okay? Make sure things don’t get out of hand or let anyone force you to do anything crazy,” he says.

“What do you say?” he asks, eyes hopeful and smiling as wide and bright as ever.

Of course, you said yes. 

How could you refuse when he had asked so nicely?

So here you were, walking up to a large house set in the corner of an upper-class residential area that had college students pouring in and out of every entrance possible with Chae, Nayeon and Jimin. You honestly had no idea whose house this was, or who even organised this party. An act of stupidity on your part you realised, because now you had no choice but to lean on your friends for safety. 

Oh well, Hoseok did promise to watch out for you, you thought as you secretly smiled to yourself.

Not secretive enough it seems as Chae tells you, “With that look on your face, I hope you’re actually excited to go to this party for the sake of having fun.”

You reply with a simple “Sure,” as your group turns into the neat little pathway leading up to the front door.

“Whether Y/n’s excited or not, I sure as hell am. God, I can’t wait to get fucked up tonight. It’s been too long,” Nayeon chirps next to you, much to Chae's chagrin.

“I’m begging you two,” Chase addresses both Nayeon and Jimin as she says, “don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning. I’m sick of babysitting you two,” with a scoff. The perpetrators merely giggle at her as they spread out separately into the dancing crowd in the living room-turned-dancefloor.

“C’mon, let’s go out to the backyard. It’s way too early to be partying this hard,” Chase says and leads you by your hand. 

As soon as you step foot out of the house, you’re relieved to be able to breathe without the entailing smell of sweat and alcohol in the air. Towards the corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with red solo cups at hand are Jungkook and Taehyung talking with two other guys you don’t recognise. 

They’re both tall and attractive, you’re quick to notice. While one is more built all-around, the other has wide shoulders leading to a tapered waist.

“Hey guys!” Chase chirps at them. “Meet Y/n. Y/n, this is Namjoon and this is Jin,” she gestures to the built one and the one with wide shoulders in order. You greet them pleasantly before stepping aside to stand next to Taehyung while Chae rants to them about Nayeon and Jimin.

Suddenly, you feel a poke of a finger in your side. “Y/n….you’re at a college party without a drink. Tch, tch, tch,” Taehyung chastises you as he leans over. You can already smell the faint lingering of alcohol on his breath. “Sorry, I’m just really not looking to get shitfaced tonight,” you weakly say. 

“Shut up, one drink never hurt anyone!” he retorts with a laugh. “I’ll be right back,” he says and before you could refuse, he’s already headed towards the kitchen indoors, presumably to get you a drink. 

In his absence, you notice Jungkook quietly nursing his own drink next to you. You shift your attention away from him and start looking around the backyard. 

Your eyes are searching, here, there and everywhere looking for a specific face. Where’s Hoseok? You want to text him, asking him if he’s here already, but you’ve never really texted him before. Would it be too obvious if you were to start now? In your train of overthinking, you fail to notice that the boy next to you has shifted to face you. He’s studying you, your actions, but you fail to notice. 

“Missing your loverboy?” the voice from next to you breaks you out of your reverie.

You look at Jungkook and dumbly say, “Huh?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, and you curse the heavens for making him as handsome as he looks when he does so. “I asked if you’re looking for Hoseok hyung,” he says. 

“Maybe.”

“Hmm, figured as much,” he shrugs. At this, you raise a curious brow at him.

“Uhm, duh, you look like you lost your puppy or something. Huhu, where’s my boyfie, huhu,” he mimics you in a high-pitched voice. 

You look at him in disgust before saying, “Ugh, I have never and will never use the word boyfie.” It’s a weak attempt at a comeback, you already know. “Aha, but you don’t deny that you’re looking for Hoseok hyung!” he says with a grin. 

You let out a scoff at that and say, “Okay, so what? What’s it to do with you? Ever heard of minding your own business?” Your tone is harsh, but you couldn’t help the shy smile that crawled on your face.

He looks like he has more to say, probably to tease you, but is cut off by Taehyung crying out “Children! Children! Please settle down, the party’s only just started. I can’t handle y'all bickering so soon.” You roll your eyes at Jungkook and turn away from him, making you miss out on the boyish grin he sends your way before he turns away himself to tune into Chae’s conversation with Namjoon and Jin. 

Taehyung waltzes up to you and flourishes a red solo cup to you with a proud look on his face. “Ta-da! A drink for Her Highness,” he dramatically says with an even more dramatic bow. 

You giggle as you accept the drink. “Thank you, good sir,” you play along. Taehyung lets out a pleasant sigh and leans forward against the railing. His sudden silence hints to you that he might have something on his mind.

You don’t bother asking yet though, comfortable with the lack of conversation between you, and instead listening to Namjoon and Jin telling Chae about their disastrous search for a roommate. Jungkook isn’t in sight anymore so you assume he’s gone back into the house.

“You guys don’t understand the number of crazy people we’ve met so far. We interviewed this one kid, a comp-sci student, who asked if we’d be okay if he were to use our storage room to keep all his blow-up “life-sized sleep dolls”. Like, what the fuck does that even mean?” Namjoon says exasperatedly. Jin shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink before saying, “I don’t think any of us here want to know what that means,” making the whole group laugh. 

“Maybe you guys should consider having him around. I want to start a wager that he has a doll of Danny Devito,” you giggle. Jin nearly chokes on his drink at that.

Namjoon is thoroughly entertained and says “You’re right! And when Christmas rolls around, we won’t have to get a damn Christmas tree. We can just spice up Danny.”

“A Danny Devito Christmas Tree?” Chae asks with a grin.

“A Danny DeviTree.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jin says.

You all nod our heads in a silly agreement.

“TO DANNY DEVITREE!” we cheer together and take large gulps of our drinks.

“Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to find a different place to live? Somewhere closer to campus right?” Chae asks you with a nudge of her elbow.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that,” you reply. You turn to Namjoon and Jin to explain “The place I’m at now is too far away from campus, so I’m thinking about moving somewhere closer so that I don’t have to stress too much about the distance before leaving for classes.”

“Well hey, our place is less than a block from campus. If you’re interested, we can talk another day,” Jin says excitedly. “But the DeviTree arrangement will have to wait, it seems,” Namjoon adds with a grin. Your eyes widen with excitement and you agree to meet another day to discuss it.

While you’re busy exchanging numbers with Namjoon, Chae suddenly notices Taehyung’s silence and asks him “What’s got you thinking so deeply? Looking so serious doesn’t suit you” she says poking her tongue out teasingly at him. 

This brings Taehyung to stand straight and point at your chest area. “It’s weird you know,” he says. 

Your tit?

“My tit?” you ask aloud.

“Huh?” he asks back and realises what he’s pointing at. “What the - no! You idiot, not your tit. Your tit is fine. I meant you in general.” 

You and the others can’t control your giggles as you prod him even more, “What’s so weird about me?”

“It’s weird how you can’t seem to get along with Jungkook. He’s literally the nicest out of all of us. And you’re nice too.”

This catches you off guard as the laughter suddenly lulls down.

“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s always getting on my nerves on purpose. He’s such an idiot,” you say along with a quick apology towards Chae. She smiles strangely at you while Namjoon and Jin watch the conversation play out in silence.

“See that’s the thing, he’s never trying to get on your nerves on purpose. You just seem to always get annoyed by him all on your own,” Taehyung refutes.

“He’s right. Not to sound like I’m trying to stand up for my brother too much, but it is weird how much you can’t stand him. He doesn’t hate you the way you hate him,” Chae says the last part with a strange tone in her voice. “But it’s like you don’t even want to give him a chance to be closer with you.”

You suddenly feel cornered by the duo. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’re just wired into different frequencies or something. Somehow, everything he does annoys me so much. God help me if I knew why,” you try to brush it off and take a large gulp of your drink. 

Are you getting a bit tipsy right now? Probably. Eh, whatever - you think as you chug the rest of the drink.

Of course in your heart, you feel struck by the accusation. Is it true? Have you been too harsh with Jungkook?

This time, you knew Chae and Taehyung weren’t referring to the textbook incident. Nope, they were talking about your overall behaviour after that. You were always harsh and short-tempered around him, sometimes, oftentimes even, mean. 

You were never usually mean, so much so that you could recognise when you were being so, especially with Jungkook. But could you blame yourself? He was practically asking for it.

“Maybe, it’s because you like-like him,” Taehyung says, making you choke on your drink. 

Namjoon and Jin are chuckling into their cups when he says that while he stands there calmly with Chae waiting for you to finish your coughing fit.

“What the FUCK! Like-like him??” you let out an emotionless laugh and say “what are we, five? Like-like him, pfft! As if.”

You’re desperate for this conversation to end now. 

“Why? It’s not that ridiculous. It would be kind of nice if my baby brother and my best friend were to date,” Chae says with a smile and a shrug. “Besides, you know what they say - there’s a thin line between love and hate…”

Sometimes, the differences between the Jeon twins shone starkly like day and night. Jungkook who loved to spend his evenings cruising around town on his motorcycle; Chae who turned down getting her own car that their parents wanted to give her because of how traumatised she was from her experience at driver’s ed (nothing serious, it was just bad vibes with an instructor who fell asleep in the passenger seat while she was behind the wheel). Jungkook who always had a glint in his eye, craving for an adrenaline filled adventure like rock climbing or hiking. More extreme, skydiving and cliff jumping during summer breaks. And Chae, who enjoyed completely and entirely, simple hangouts with friends at a cafe or a club, and especially at home. 

As different as they were, the Jeon twins were as inseparable as former womb mates ever could be.

Like that one time Chae and you had a sleepover at their place for a Barbie animated movie marathon before your group was set to go watch the new Barbie live-action movie in cinemas. Even though he had all the means to simply lock himself up in his room to save himself from the cheesy squeals and giggles he was promised to hear from the two of you for the rest of the night, Jungkook not only joined you two for the whole run, enthusiastically reacting along to the characters and funny lines, he even went out of the way to make the three of you hot cocoa drinks with marshmallows and volunteered to go out and buy more snacks once they had run out. 

A memory that still makes you chuckle is how the entire group showed up to the movie dressed in theme to the nines (Jimin and Taehyung as the Diamond Castle dogs of course). And yes, Jungkook too. While Chae unsurprisingly dressed up as Bibble, Jungkook retired his punk jewellery to dress up as Aidan from The Magic of Pegasus.

Chae was none the wiser, fiercely caring for her brother. The memory of Jungkook and Taehyung once getting locked in a frat party closet once and noone being able to find them bcs their phones were with Nayeon, and the party was too loud to hear them shouting to be let out. Chae was worried sick around the 5 hour mark, contemplating calling the police and ranting and generally being out of sorts. Thank god Jimin needed to throw up and rushed to the nearest closet and forced it open. The gratification on the boys’ face at being freed didn’t last long before Jimin got puke all over them.

Nonetheless, Chae was utterly relieved to see her brother alive and well, rushing to hug him regardless of the gunk covering his shirt.

For as darling as you found Chae and as insufferable as you found Jungkook, you sure did hang out with the two a lot; the most out of everyone in the group. It didn’t go unnoticed how he was a whopping 5 '8 and was incredibly self-sufficient, perfectly able to say no to his sister's invitations if he wanted to. 

The thing was, Chae brought him along everywhere, and he followed along anyway.

These are a few of the memories that you’ve collected since getting to know Chae, and by default Jungkook too. The Jeon twins truly made for an odd pair, but they were made for each other like peanut butter and jelly. 

You’re reflecting on these memories in your tipsy haze as you’re almost touched for a moment that Chae just called you her best friend, given that you’ve only known each other for a little over half a year now.

Almost.

“Hah! No offence Chae, but there is no way I could ever like, or love, your brother.”

Of course, the universe is not on your side today (has it ever been?), because it’s at that exact moment that the man you’d been on the lookout for the whole night strides onto the patio towards you little group. 

“Oh shit, Y/n loves Jungkook? Then, I’m out of here,” Hoseok says with a teasing lilt in his voice and the insinuation of what he says makes your hearts beat faster. 

“NO! I said I don’t like him. Or love him. C’mon Hoseok, I want to dance. It’s getting stale out here,” you say as you giggle and drag him by his hand into the house through the swarm of bodies. 

You’re well able to notice your friends’ teasing comments following you into the house, but not the pair of doe eyes that were fixated on you from the inner entrance to the porch area as you pass them.

Currently, you were bouncing along with Hoseok in the room full of bodies, barely able to decipher anything other than the music booming through the space. Oh, and his hands are on your hips.

Fuck, you think to yourself. That boy has got you wrapped around his pretty little finger, literally, and he doesn’t even know it.

Or maybe he does? You don’t know. You don’t know anything right now. You’re so out of it. 

The full weight of the drink Taehyung had given earlier had finally hit you 20 minutes ago, and ever since then, you’ve been daringly thrusting your hips and grinding against Hoseok in tune to the beat of the songs playing. You’re not sure if he’s drunk himself since you didn’t see him ingest anything since you met up with him on the porch, but the way he’s grinding back onto you, gripping your hips possessively and whispering sweet nothings into your ear suggest that he might be. 

“Y/n…” he breathes out. “You look so cute tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I wanted to. I thought about it, but didn’t say it.”

You let out a giggle and say “That’s okay. Thanks. You look really good tonight too.”

A minute passes of you two continuing to dance when he suddenly stops and motions you to do the same. “Can I- Can I ask you something?” he starts. The suddenness of his actions sobers you a little and you merely nod at him. “What is it?”

He seems hesitant to continue and it looks like it’s really eating him up. “What is it? You can ask me anything,” you encourage him.

“Okay, uhm, well, is there- fuck, okay,” he says before clearing his throat and looking at you pointedly. 

“Is there anything going on between you and Jungkook?” he asks.

“What the hell, no!” you’re quick to refute.

His eyes widened at your response. “No? Are you sure? Are you 100% positive on that?” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at that.

This is so ridiculous. 

“No, Hoseok, there’s nothing going on between me and that brat Jeon Jungkook. Okay? The others were just joking around. There’s nothing happening between us. Is that what you wanted to know?” 

He visibly brightens up and says “Well yeah, because I wanted to know if what I’m about to do next would land me a punch on the face or not,” with a laugh. He comes closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist with a grin forming on his face.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your breath getting shallower. Your heart is pounding so fast you hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

And when he leans down and brings his lips to yours in a searing kiss, you’re unable to think of anything else anymore. Fuck Jungkook. Fuck everything.

All you think about is him.

Hoseok.

Hoseok.

Hoseok.

He’s such a great kisser, lips so soft and careful yet bold. While your tongues are having a passionate battle for dominance, with you losing quickly, he brings his arms to wrap tightly around your body. “Y/n…” he moans in between and you swear you’ve never heard a sound more sweeter. You’re moaning too as you bring your hands up to run through his hair and down the back of his neck.

The pair of you part after what feels like both forever and finite. “Fuck, you’re something else,” he says breathlessly. You chuckle at that, out of breath yourself. 

You take a moment to just stare at his face and your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. He’s taking the time to look back at you too. You see his eyes dart around your face - to your eyes, nose, hair tucked behind your ear, your lips. 

His face is lit up by the glare of the colourful lights decorating the ceiling and something else that is purely him.

Hoseok.

Sober-you would never find the balls to admit your feelings to him, but drunk-you could. 

“Hoseok…”

“Yes?”

“I-I like you.”

.

.

.

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How could I not?” he says with a chuckle before he closes the gaps between your lips again.

Just as you think you’re about to write a blurb on the bliss of Hoseok’s soft lips, a voice clears causing the two of you to break away. Jungkook appears by your side with a furrow on his face looking as uncomfortable as ever.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” you ask, flustered and unable to mask your disappointment over his interruption. He isn’t quick to reply, opting to glance at the close proximity between Hoseok and you first. “I need you to come with me,” he replies gruffly. When you don’t move an inch he adds, “Now,”.

“Uhm, well, I’m kinda occupied at the moment so unless it’s important - HEY!” you exclaim as he grabs ahold of your hand and tries to drag you away from Hoseok. Hoseok steps in and tries to reason with Jungkook. “Hey man, you heard her, she can’t go and it’s not cool of you to drag her”

“It IS important!” Jungkook says. He’s got a strong grip on you, and even though you’re not afraid of him at that moment, for you know he’s gentler than he seems, you are annoyed by him.

You smack on his hand that’s encasing your arm and start yelling “Jungkook, you big OAF, I’m not going anywhere with YOU!” He ignores you and continues dragging you away from Hoseok. “You’re not even telling me what’s so goddamned IMPORTANT!” 

There truly are consequences to chugging down a drink that Taehyung, of all people made for you.

You are drunk. And what is it that drunk people infamously do? Stupid things. 

You are drunk and irrational and Jungkook is still dragging you away. You do the only thing that your brain can comprehend doing in that moment.

You bring your stiletto boots covered leg up and bring it down hard on Jungkook’s heavy black stompers. You know, the ones that he stood in-line for 3 hours to buy on its release day that cost a whopping $800. The ones that he carefully polishes every week so that they look shiny and new always.

Well, from where you’re standing - yep, standing, not walking..because Jungkook has stopped walking - his shoes do look as good as new.

Except for the ugly 3 inch scratch that runs down the side of the right one where your stiletto just met it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’ve gone too far.

Is it possible to hear complete and utter silence in a room full of sweaty and drunk college kids with Gasolina blaring in the background? Because you’re experiencing it right this moment. Oh no wait, it just changed to You Broke Me First by Tate McCrae. Nice. In any other given scenario, you’d laugh at the irony of it.

But you’re not laughing now. Neither is Jungkook. You’re holding your breath and Jungkook's wide set shoulders slowly turn around to look at you. 

He peers down at his now ruined shoe before slowly dragging his eyes over your figure and meeting your eyes. His mouth, usually positioned as a lopsided grin, was now set straight and silent, his eyes hard with an illegible emotion.

It takes a couple of moments for you to snap back to your senses and you’re about to open your mouth to throw out apologies, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“Chae’s sick in the toilet. Go check up on her and let her know I’m waiting for her outside,” he says lowly and releases his grip on your hand. 

You’re wide-eyed as you open your mouth to respond, “Jungkook, I’m so-”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it so difficult for you to think about other people?” He cuts you off loudly. You’re rendered speechless, his words striking you unexpectedly. In all your encounters of Jungkook irritating you, leaving you to retort harshly, never once has he raised his voice or gotten angry with you. But now he was. 

Totally and utterly angry.

You see it in the way he’s actively trying, but failing, to control his tone and breathing, and the step that he takes away from you. This is new ground for your dynamic, you have no idea what to say to him other than to apologise.

“You parade around feeling so entitled about everything, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and go help Chae?

“But Jungko-”

“Save it. We’ll call it even for your textbooks. Can you just go now?”

“Wait please, I’m sor-”

“JUST GO!”

He doesn’t wait for your next response and turns to head out the door, roughly pushing off the drunk and sweaty crowd that got in his way. All that’s left is for you to stare at his retreating back as you stomach the dread rising in you.

Congratulations, Miss Kim Y/n! You have officially pissed Jeon Jungkook off!

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

[diejager]

Gosh I read your 141 monster shots and I can't get enough! (I just keep rereading them 🥲) so I was hopeful that you'll make more base off "only human"? Maybe a little NSFW perhaps😋. Please I'll lov3 this so much! 🙇‍♀️🩷

Featherlight from Only Human cw: teasing, creampie, unprotected sex, silly sex, tell me if I missed any.

For someone on the leaner side of muscular, he was as strong as Soap was, his muscle pulled tighter and figure smoothed out with soft ridged and round edges, every curve and dip of his body felt smooth under your touch. His chocolate skin tasted sweet on your tongue with a slight tang of salt, his skin thick but malleable between your teeth, his wide shoulders naked and his mind voicing his need to have you sink your teeth in him, to add to his scars. You groan at the taste of him, something ecstatic, something sultry, something addictive, you loved him whole just as he voiced his obsession with you.

You tightened your hold on him, legs wrapped around his narrow waist, rolling your hips against him with every thrust, the way he drove his cock in you slowly and deeply. He whispered filthy things in your ear, the words rolling off his silver tongue with a sinful grin, praising you for taking him so well. 

“You’re doing so well, love,” he groaned, pressing you closer to his chest. “My sweet bird.”

You laughed at his pet name, eyes creased in amusement as you watched his wings flutter, big feathers rooted in wide wings, strong and protective around you. Even in the privacy of his room, Gaz made it a habit to shield you with his wings, a wall of flesh, bones and feathers standing between you and the world. They stood forever unmoving despite the jostling slaps and the rocking thrusts, the wet squelch and the wandering hands. 

You gripped the back of his head, fingers sinking into the back of his fade, where hair thinned out, you pulled, coaxing him to bare his throat at you. You nosed the softness under his jaw, lips trailing over his ear and the sensitive part of his neck, planting kisses and nipping with your teeth. He sighed gently, eyes rolling back and panting out his pleasure, he called out your name in reverence, a featherlight on his tongue. You loved how he sounded, his endearing moans, his low groans and his pleased grunts, it drove your senses wild with everything he did and it made you as loving as you were bratty with them.   

“I thought you were the bird, Gaz,” you smiled sweetly, arms trailing down to pull him closer to you, fingers grazing the sensitive muscle between his wings, from his neck down to his upper back. 

He jerked, cock throbbing inside of you, leaky tip coating your warm walls with pre when he bottomed out, slick dripping down his balls from over-excitement and all the teasing foreplay. His back rippled, wings moving accordingly to his flinching movement, they tensed and spasmed before settling back into motionless, a state of permanent shielding of your naked body.

“Oh? Playing cheeky now, aren’t you?” He grinned, revenge stirring in his pretty, brown eyes. “You brat.”

He snapped his hips, ramming in roughly, throwing you back against the wall he held you against, depending on his strength to support you up. You threw your head back, eyes closing as your mouth widened in ecstasy, letting out a flurry of mewls and moans. You dug your blunt nails into his back, hips bucking forwards with each hard push to meet him halfway, the uncut head berating your spongy wall, sensitive and overwhelmed by him. Your cries and pleas drove him further into carnality, tightening his grasp on your ass, being careful as to not harm you with his sharp talons, the claws he used to rip into his enemies.

Gaz felt out of control, his heart and body singing another tune than his clear mind, reacting in an animalistic way, wound up tight with this carnal need. He knew you were just as lost as him from your incoherent words and babbling tongue, lips searching for this to kiss and bite, to love and to care. Even in your shared haze of pleasure, he could see the unending fountain of adoration in your eyes, the soft cress in your brows and the smile on your face. 

If he could’ve come undone, he would, his mind running wild. He pressed himself closer, mouth wrapped around your lips, tongue and teeth nipping at you wildly, rough and hasty as he chased his end. He cursed loudly at your walls clamping around him in beats, the rapid pulse of your heart guiding the pace. His knees buckled, moaning out praises and encouragements, coaxing you in a spot of comfort and sensuality, to love yourself and let yourself go, to return what you gave him. 

He watched you unravel, body pulled taunt as you came, mouth opened in a silent scream, head falling backwards and eyes rolling back. He shuddered when you gripped him, giving a few more thrusts before he crashed, back slumped forward in exhaustion and pleasure. His cock jerked, spurting ropes of white, hot cum, painting your walls with his thick load. 

Despite being tired, he hoisted you up and stumbled to bed, letting you fall first as his wings caged you in while he peppered you in kisses. He never let go, resting with you in his arms, your face pulled to sleep on his chest with a wing moving to cover you as a makeshift blanket until he decided to pull the actual blanket over you.

“I love you,” he muttered those words softly, but they echoed loudly in your heart, the powerful beat that repeated his words.

“Love you, Gaz.”

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[inquisimer]

Happy Friday! From the protective prompt list: “If they want to get to you, they’ll have to get through me first.” – I think this would be something super sweet platonically with Arlow de Riva & Viago - AnonymousInquisitor

it COULD have been something super sweet—instead, I have made it something angsty 😌 have the moment when, with the Talons out for blood, Viago sends Arlow away from Antiva

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 1281 words | cw: suicidal ideation | @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers

-

Inside, Viago was fuming. Vision red, chest tight, anger roaring in his ears. In his head, he’d bellowed his fury out so loud, they heard it clear across the Free Marches.

In reality, he’d been glaring at Arlow in terse silence for nearly twenty minutes. Her foot had been shaking for the last ten, and her fists had been clenched and tucked under her arms since he called her in. Neither of them had said a word.

How could she be so stupid?

Actually, he knew exactly how. He’d been watching her spiral, untethered in her grief, for half a year now. Since Lucanis died, every contract, even the simple ones, was an excuse to throw herself on the fire. And he’d done nothing. As angry as he was with her, he was equally furious with himself. But there was nothing left now except damage control.

“The Talons want your head.” Her jaw clenched when he finally spoke, the tension between them snapping like a bubble popped. “All of the Talons. Myself included.”

She mumbled something under her breath and Viago’s nostril’s flared. Part of him had expected contrition; the rest of him knew that was a foolish thought. He raised an expectant brow.

“Not all,” she said, over-enunciating as she repeated herself. “Not Teia.”

Viago slammed his palm on the desk and she flinched. “That is not the point. They would have your throat under the guillotine and frankly? I should let them.”

Her throat bobbed, the first hint of uneasiness he’d seen since she came in, covered in Antaam blood and sparking defiance. Maker, what would it take to get through to her?

“Then why don’t you?” she whispered. Viago froze.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” she snapped. She stood, kicking the chair aside and pacing angrily across his office. “What good am I doing you like this? What good am I doing anyone? One of these days I won’t be quick enough. Why don’t we just get it over with?”

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated. “You don’t.”

He was not one to hide from the truth. But perhaps if he said it forcefully, insistently enough, it would drill through her thick skull. Grief was a heavy burden to bear; especially unexpected, unavenged, it was the yoke around your neck, the ball and chain around your leg. But it did not have to be the death of her. There were other paths to peace; he would not let her take this one.

“I do.” She sagged, righting the chair and spinning it around to sit in it backwards. She rested her chin on the back of it. “I… I’m sorry, Viago. But haven’t I caused enough problems? Haven’t you stuck your neck out enough for me? Let them have me,” she said bitterly, not looking at him. “It’ll be easier for both of us.”

Viago leaned over the desk and yanked her chair forward. Once she was close enough, he gave her ear a sharp flick.

“Snap out of it,” he scowled, sitting back as she clapped a hand to her ear. Shock twisted her face—good. So she could still feel something. That meant she wasn’t beyond pulling back from the edge. “You are grieving—fine. You are angry—fine. But you are worth more than the way you are treating yourself. I won’t have you throwing your life away—despite your best efforts, I won’t allow it.”

Her face fell back to an expressionless mask as he spoke. He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. “But neither can I allow you to go unchecked. So—“ he steeled himself; this was a punishment for her, but through the ties that bound them it reverberated on him “—you will leave Antiva. Tonight.”

“What.” Her jaw fell open. She stared, and Viago stared firmly back.

“You heard me.”

“No.” She shook her head, fingers clenching around the frame of her chair. “No. Don’t send me away—this is my home. I don’t belong anywhere else. I’d rather you let them kill me!”

“Which is why this is a better penance.” What he didn’t say was that they would kill her if she stayed. Sending her out of the country was the only way—and they’d barely agreed. He would be putting out fires and soothing egos for months before she could ever come back. But she would come back, he reminded himself. That was the only consolation he would get, since she could never know how it ripped his soul from his throat to send her away.

He withdrew a freshly inked contract from his cloak. It had been a surprise to see the dwarf among the captives she freed—an unwelcome one, at first. But he was offering a way out that was marginally better than shoving her over the border alone. He handed the scroll to her.

“You will go with Varric,” he told her as she read. “Maker willing, the scale of this job will put things in perspective. I’ve heard he works miracles—maybe he’ll be able to brush up your judgment.”

She crushed the parchment between her fingers. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you better do it yourself.” He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Death is a Crow’s way of life. We do not lose ourselves to it, no matter who it takes from us. We accept that, and we are stronger in spite of our grief. It is not stronger than us.”

Maker, he hoped his words weren’t falling on deaf ears. Half the time with her… well, even when she heard him, it did not always stick. But he could do nothing else. She had taken the control away from either of them when she launched herself from that rooftop.

It was in Varric’s hands now. And hers, assuming he could pull her head out of her ass. Not that he wasn’t motivated—Viago would kill him if she came back with so much as a scratch.

She pursed her lips together. Hurt flared in her eyes—betrayal, disappointment, but at least it was something. Feeling something was good. Someday, when she was back, and Treviso was free, she might even understand. As long as she was alive to see that day.

“Fine.” She stood, contract balled in her fist. “Are we done?”

His throat constricted. He wished, desperately, that decorum at all allowed Teia to be here. She would have the words they needed to bridge the gap he could feel widening between them. But no—this was a matter between a Talon and his Crow. Even if it left a schism too wide to come back from. “Arlow…”

She paused, and he froze. Her name had fallen from his lips without any thought behind what he would say. He cleared his throat and frowned. “Leave your cape, and your leathers. You can have them back when you find that better judgment.”

She stared at him, disbelieving. Then her hand went to her throat. She tore the clasp from her cape and threw it at his feet.

“Here,” she spat. “Take it. I won’t need it where I’m going, anyway.”

“Arlow—“

“No.” She held up the scroll between them like a barrier and Viago felt the months to come lengthen the distance that was already there. “You want me out? I’m going. I’m gone.”

And then she was. Slowly, Viago bent down and picked up her cape. Gunpowder and market spices wafted off it, and the odd film that came from her magic coated his teeth

Maker, keep her, he thought, folding the fabric between his hands. Keep her, or we’ll be having words.

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤ How they finger you || Hantengu Clones x F!Reader smut

summary: I wanted to write this so please do enjoy the hantengu clones playing with your kitty uwu

warnings: smut,, fingering duh, degrading, for urogi I’m gonna do him going down on your kitty because bro is gonna rip your insides with his talons. curse words.

Sekido || Finger you roughly until you’re crying

As you were spread out in his bed, you laid there naked and he had two fingers inside of your needy hole. Loud moans kept escaping your mouth. “Sekido…please.” You beg out. He looked at you and made a face, he moved his fingers in and out of you quite roughly and it was becoming overwhelming. “Shut up, I didn’t give you permission to speak.” He said, and with each word he kept on hitting your sweet spot making you throw your head back in pleasure, tears streamed down your face. He didn't give two shits if he was being rough with you. He just wanted to get a good reaction from you.

“Look at you.” He hissed out, Sekido smirked as he curled up his fingers. He knew what you liked and what you didn’t. “You’re my dirty slut…is that right?” He growled out. Making you moan out “Yes sir. I’m your dirty little slut…please…”

He just smirked, as he fingers you his thumb made it’s way to your clit and he started to rub circles. Your breath hitched up. Moving your hips against his fingers to get more pleasure. “Look how desperate you are? Do you wanna cum around my fingers?”

Moaning louder “Fuck! I do! Please!” You whimper and he smirked. Feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, as he moved his thumb quickly on your clit your eyes rolled behind your head and you gasp out as you reached your climax. Panting heavily, he pulled his fingers out and licked your juices off of his fingers

“So fucking delicious…you taste good princess. I wanna try it from the source.” He said, and before you could answer he already had his head between your legs, his tongue lapping your wet folds. Moaning under his breath, he smirked. "Be a good little slut and stay still."

Karaku || Finger you while you’re in doggy style postion

Your moans filled the room, currently you were in the doggy style position and Karaku had two fingers deep inside of you. Whimpering softly “Please…it hurts.” You say, burying your face into the pillow, tears steaming down your face. As he smirked, he slowed down the pace. “Aw come on Darling. If you can barley take my fingers how do you expect to take my cock?” He cooed out, leaning in and kissing your neck. Feeling his fangs brush against your soft skin. “You wanna make daddy happy right?”

His voice and his kisses made you moan under your breath. “Come on, make daddy happy…please?” He whispered against your neck. Making you groan “Okay…just please be gentle.”

He couldn’t help but smirk, his fingers still inside of you he decided to have more fun with you. Karaku began curling his fingers up, and with this position you’re in he immediately found your sweet spot. Moaning loudly he smirked. “Ah?! Did I find your special spot?” He said in a mocking tone of voice. You were too busy moaning in your own pleasure “I take that as a yes.” He said loudly, licking his lips.

His fingers kept on hitting the right spots, forcing your face down the bed. “That’s right. Take my fingers you dirty whore..” He growled, he felt his needy budge under his pants making him hiss out. “Hurry up and cum already so I can fuck your pretty little hole.”

You moan, and soon after you reached your climax. He quickly pulled his fingers out and sucking on them. Moaning under his breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you dumb.” He growled out, grabbing your hips roughly. “Now it’s time for the real thing.” He said, and with a quick motion he was naked, his cock hard and ready. Slowly he teased your hole with the head of his cock. "Fuck..you're in for a ride baby~."

Aizetsu || Will finger you as he’s eating you out

Aizetsu currently had his head between your legs and his fingers inside of you. Your toes curled in pleasure, and your eyes were rolled back. “Hey Sweetheart? Am I doing this right? Are you feeling good?” He asked you, pulling his face away from your head. Keeping his fingers inside of you still, you moan loudly. Letting him know he’s doing amazing. “Y-Yes dear, you’re making me feel so good…so freaking good.” And he couldn’t help but blush at your comment. He leaned in again and gave your clit a long lick. His fingers moved in and out of you in a slow and passionate pace. His long fingers kept on hitting every sweet spot.

He couldn’t help but moan, he loved seeing your reactions. Aizetsu always puts your pleasure first rather than his. “You know you look beautiful. So beautiful Sweetheart.” He whimpered out, sucking on your clit making you gasp out. Your walls tighten around his fingers making him smirk. You look at him, and you could see his eyes and were filled with lust.

“Ah that did something?!” He said softly, so he continued to suck on your bundle of joy. You moan out. “Aizetsu…ahh gah.” You moan out, struggling to speak. And he just kept on going. He couldn’t help but pick up the pace with his fingers.

Now with him sucking onto your clit and also him picking up the pace from his fingers you were close. And he could tell. “Please, come all over my face and fingers. I deserve it.” He moaned out. His other hand held one of thighs open. “Cum for me.”

And with that you moan out. “AIZETSU!” You moan out, throwing your head back. Squirting your juices all over him, your face turned red as you never squirted before. But he was smirking like crazy and before you could speak up he pinned your arms over your head. “I want you to do that again.”

Urogi || Eating you out

He watched you as your back was against the bed, and your legs were spread open for him. Lapping his tattooed tongue against your wet folds, it was ashamed he couldn’t finger you like the other clones could, he desperately wanted to feel your walls with his talons but he would most likely rip your insides. But he always makes it up by pleasing you with his tongue and he can proudly say that he’s the better clone at giving head.

Moaning under your breath, you couldn’t help but move your hips against against his tongue. And he smirked and grabbed your hips, he had to hold himself back from digging his claws into your soft skin. “Who gave you permission to move your hips? Are that horny?” He mocked you, a playful grin spread across his face. “Screw it, grind on my face baby. That was hot.” He buried his face into your heat and began eating you out as if you were his last meal.

Throwing your head back in bliss, grinding your hips against his face. He moaned into your holds, he was enjoying how you tasted. “So fucking delicious.” He said against your heat, opening your legs and pulling his head away making you whimper. Spreading you out, he eyed your wet core. Licking his lips. He leaned in again and placed small kisses against your clit.

“So good. So delicious..” He whispered, placing a long kiss on your clit. Giving you an open sloppy kiss on your clit and he couldn’t help but swirl his tongue around your pink button. He buried his face into your heat, and he began fucking you with his tongue. “Ahh~.” You moaned out. Your legs began to shake in pleasure, you were close and he desperately wanted to taste you. “Cum…now.”

You didn’t waste anymore time, you released your juices all over his face, and he giggled licking up all your juices. “Wow. Look at you.” He smirked, he licked his lips. Leaning In towards you and smashing his lips against yours. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, making you taste yourself. As you guys shared a heated tongue kiss he pulled away and looked you in the eye. “You know what would be so hot?” He asked you, looking at him. “Hmm?” You say, looking into his eyes. “If you were to finger yourself and I watch.” He said, pulling away and sitting up. Making you turn red, but you wanted to please him. Sitting up and opening your legs for him to watch. And slowly your hands made their way to your needy hole.

[pinkhelados]

hey, kitty - miguel ohara x reader!

summary: you take in a stray hybrid. Overtime, the pull of your love draws in the reluctant hybrid to your arms.

contains: hybrid au, cat!hybrid!miguel x fem!reader, very fluffy, nsfw (more towards the end.) mentions of titty sucking, oral sex (fem receiving)

A dark, chocolate colored tail flicked from behind a tree. You stopped jogging and made your way to peek behind the thick spruce where you found a hybrid lounging under the shade. The cat bolted up onto his feet and barred his fangs, he swatted your face with his talons and but luckily, you managed to dodge. “Don’t worry, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” You smiled and reached out to try and pet him which only got you another close call with those deadly fingerpads of his. “Leave,” the hybrid scowled.

Something drew you to this specific kitty, perhaps the attitude or how handsome his face was. Either way, you wanted to bring him with you. “Come on, you’re hungry. I can feed you and everything!”

You weren’t sure why you were so inclined on the idea of keeping this stray, but something in your gut urged you to keep pushing, and you did, for thirty minutes.

“Ave Maria- Fine! I’ll come with you if you can just be quiet,” He grunted, fluffy ears turned back and clearly sick of all the nagging.

Eyes lighting up, your lips curled up into a big grin. You grabbed his hand to pull him into a hug which got your the talons.

“Oye!”

“Sorry.”

Miguel was a picky eater, picky sleeper, picky everything. For a stray, he sure knew his preferences.

The first few months of his stay, he’d sleep in his own space away from you with his tail curled up around his massive thigh by the window. When he’d doze off, he’d easily wake at the sound of footsteps or the jingle of your keys when you’d come back from errands. Miguel would bolt upwards, eyes wide and alert before realizing it was just you and go back to his nap. He was weary of you but you respected it. Miguel liked his space, but that didn’t mean he’d be isolated forever.

You were up late watching a film one night when the door to your bedroom creaked open. The six-foot-nine hybrid stared at you with his intense, unblinking eyes. The film was paused. He’d typically be asleep by now but here he was standing in front of your television not saying a word.

“What’s up?” You asked tentatively. Miguel’s tail swished nervously behind, his jaw clenching tighter with every passing moment. “Your bed’s more comfortable then mine…”

Oh!

Heart speeding, you eagerly lifted the sheets for him to join you. The matress shifted downwards with the weight of Miguel as he crawled into bed with you. The hybrid’s burly arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest and resting his on your head. Miguel’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “Mm,” He grunted.

Miguel’s scent filled your nostrils and you nuzzled your cheek against his neck. He smelled earthy. Like pine on a rainy day. His large hand traced the curves of your body and after a while, he turned down to gaze into your eyes. You saw it, the expresión of yearning in his maroon hues. Miguel had been wanting this just as much as you had. You could see your face reflecting on his dilated pupils and you shared that same look of affection.

A deep purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you reached up to scratch the backside of his fluffy ears which he gladly welcomed. His plush lips pursed outwards. “Something wrong?” You whispered over the rich purring coming from his throat. “No,” he hummed, hugging you closer to wrap his brown, fluffy tail around your waist.

“I just haven’t made a sound like this in a long time.”

Sleeping in the same bed became a nightly ritual for you and your hybrid. Curled up under blankets with his beefy arms tight around your waist. After a year, Miguel got comfortable and he was comfortable quick which you loved. He was fond of your breasts, touching them, kneading them, suckling on them after a particularly stressful day. When he wasn’t lounging by himself, he’d be in the kitchen. He’d stand behind you peppering kisses to your neck while you fixed up breakfast in the wee hours of the morning. You were his person and he’d make it known. Scenting, biting, you name it. Miguel had marked you with no intention of sharing his precious human. Miguel wasn’t overly jealous, he knew that you’d come home smelling of other hybrids, something to be expected when living in such a populated city. Certain instances would make him snap, though.

“Miguel!” You squirmed under every lap of his rough tongue. His ears perked up at tour noises, but he was to distracted by the taste of your cunt to care. Juices ran down his chin, claws digging into the fat of your thighs. It was pornographic. The slurping and sucking on your clit had your hips bucking into his skilled tongue, pussy sqeezing around his girthy fingers. “That’s it,” he groaned. “No one makes you feel like this, just me.” Miguel kissed your clit before enveloping it once more, sucking on it until you were coming for the second time. “Such a pretty pussy, nena. You’re soaked,” He smirked a little, clearly proud of how undone you’d become. He dove right back into your glistening folds, hooked nose bumping against your perky clit to coax out another orgasm.

“Youre my human. All mine.”

a/n: i love cat boys y’all

[cornsoupflavour]

Hit List (Overwatch NSFW Smut) [LORE]

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

Widowmaker, Amélie Lacroix x Male Reader

Tags: 2.4k words, enemies-to-lovers, multiple creampies, mention of breeding & assassinations

Image credit: Qi Sheng Luo on ArtStation

In the late hours of the night, you, Y/N, a relatively new recruit for Overwatch right before it collapsed, found yourself locked in a scuffle with none other than the infamous Widowmaker, Amélie Lacroix. The chase through the city finally came to a halt when you managed to trap the assassin in your own residence.

Panting, you dragged the stunned Widowmaker to the living room. Your hands had been stained with the remnants of your heated confrontation. The adrenaline from the chase was slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of weariness.

"Lacroix, Amélie Lacroix," you stated, pronouncing her full name as you tied her to a chair. Once she was secure, you took a seat opposite her, your eyes never leaving the Talon operative. "Who sent you here?"

The only sound in the room was the ticking clock, emphasizing the silence that enveloped them. You crossed your arms, your tone neutral. "...and why?"

Widowmaker, however, remained stoic. Her purple-blue skin and yellow eyes stared blankly ahead, giving no hint of the information you desired. The silence was thick, an uncomfortable tension between the two.

That's when you remembered the recall Winston sent. You hang your head with a long, drawn-out sigh. "You know I'm not gonna let you finish your mission, right?"

You could feel beads of sweat trickling down your forehead, but you wiped them away, maintaining your stern expression.

You leaned back in your chair, the creaking of the wooden frame filling the room. A vein on your forehead pulsed as you glared at Widowmaker.

"Listen to me, Lacroix," you said, your voice dry. "I'm not in the mood for games. You're lucky I'm not going to just leave you here, roped up like a prize catch."

A long moment of silence passed as you stared her down. Her yellow eyes, so lifeless, still didn't betray any sense of emotion.

"You've got a pretty face, for a Talon operative," you remarked, your tone trailing off, hinting at sarcasm. "If only your brain wasn't so thoroughly corrupted."

You couldn't help but glance at her voluptuous figure, strapped into the wooden chair. Widowmaker's plump ass and hourglass figure were accentuated by her tight-fitting purple and silver bodysuit.

Suddenly, Widowmaker's tone shifted. Her voice was still cold, but there was an unexpected edge to it.

"Why don't we skip the questioning and do something more... enjoyable?" She suggested, her voice low and husky. "After all, I find the scent of your lust intoxicating."

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her proposition. In this tense moment, Widowmaker's suggestion seemed almost farcical. Yet, there was an undeniable attraction between the two of you.

"As if I'd give you the satisfaction," you responded, your voice full of disdain. "I'll be taking you straight to an interrogation facility."

You stood up, ready to escort the bound Talon assassin, but the thought of her twisted, alluring suggestion lingered in your mind. The quiet room was filled with an overpowering tension that seemed to hum in the air.

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of Widowmaker's proposition lingering in your mind. You remained standing, your body just a few inches away from her bound form. The scent of gunpowder and sweat filled the air. Your breathing was heavy, and your heart pounded. The room felt oppressive, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

You leaned in closer, whispering into Widowmaker's ear.

"Alright, Lacroix, I'll give you a deal." You spoke in a hushed tone. "If I allow you to expel my lust, I'll let you go. You'll walk out of here on your own two feet, and I won't track you down. We both forget this happened. But I want your word, here and now."

You could feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of her perfume intermingled with the lingering stench of combat. Her stillness was eerie, and the only indication of her response was the rise and fall of her chest.

Widowmaker's lips curved into a small smile, exposing a set of sharp, white teeth. "A fair offer, Y/N. I accept your terms." Her voice was as cold as ever, but the seductive tone was unmistakable.

You hesitated for a moment, the deal seeming too good to be true. But, with a deep breath, you decided to go through with it.

"Alright," you stated, your voice firm. "But don't even think about betraying me. Once we're done, I'll set you free, and you leave. No turning back."

Widowmaker's stoic expression didn't change, but a glint of desire flickered in her yellow eyes. "Of course, Y/N." She responded, the promise of wicked pleasure in her voice.

You stepped back, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you contemplated your next move. The tension between the two of you was palpable; the room felt like it was about to explode. With a final, deep breath, you decided to proceed, ready to fulfill your end of the bargain.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unbuckle your belt and lower your pants, revealing your arousal. The anticipation of this encounter had been building, and you couldn't suppress the excitement coursing through you.

You moved closer to the chair and untied Widowmaker's legs. Her plump ass remained firmly planted in the seat, but her legs now dangled free. You spread them apart, giving you access to her most intimate area. The fabric of her suit was tight, but you managed to tear a small hole right at the entrance of her slit.

"Looks like I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," you panted, your voice thick with lust. "I bet your body's itching for some relief, Lacroix."

Without waiting for a response, you positioned yourself between her legs, aligning your throbbing member with her soaking entrance. You slowly sank into her, the sensation of her tight warmth enveloping you sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Mmm, yes..." you moaned, your voice hoarse. "You feel incredible, Lacroix. I never knew you were this tight."

You began to thrust, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the sensations. Widowmaker's body was a perfect fit, her folds clenching rhythmically around your length. You couldn't resist the urge to cup her plump ass, squeezing the firm flesh in your hands.

"Your ass is pure perfection, it feels amazing in my hands, Lacroix," you groaned, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. "I could spend hours just massaging it."

Your thrusts grew more aggressive as the passion between the two of you grew. Widowmaker's head rolled back, her body responding to your every touch. You leaned down, your mouth trailing kisses along her neck, causing her to arch her back in pleasure.

"Uungh, Y/N, I need you, deeper, please... Ah, nnn..." she moaned, her voice thick with desire.

You couldn't help but let out a groan of your own, your grip on her hips tightening.

"You feel so good around me," you panted, voice deep with need. "You're gonna make me lose control, Lacroix."

Your thrusts grew harder, more urgent, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust. Widowmaker's moans grew louder, her body trembling beneath yours.

"Ahh, Y/N, I'm cumming, cumming hard, yes, Y/N, yes!" she cried out, her body convulsing as an orgasm ripped through her.

Watching her climax pushed you over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, you let out a guttural moan, filling her with your release.

"Fuck, Lacroix," you panted, your body trembling. "You're going to cost me an entire day of work."

You collapsed, panting, onto her chest, your heart pounding in your ears. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the aftershocks of your intense encounter still coursing through your bodies.

Slowly, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, but for now, you basked in the post-coital haze, the tension between the two of you replaced by an unspoken understanding.

As the afterglow of your first encounter began to fade, Widowmaker leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. Her soft, warm breath mingled with yours, and you felt the familiar pull of desire returning.

You broke the kiss, your eyes locking with hers. "Do you want another round, Lacroix?" you asked, your voice thick with lust.

Widowmaker nodded lustfully, a devious glint in her eyes. "Yes, Y/N, but this time, I want to be in control," she purred, her French accent thickening.

You untied her bonds, and she dropped her legs to the floor. Her costume was still partly torn, revealing her wetness. She grabbed your hand and led you to the couch, pushing you gently onto your back.

Widowmaker straddled you, guiding your still hard member to her entrance. You felt her tightness enveloping you, and she began to rock her hips, sliding you in and out of her at a slow, teasing pace.

"Mmm, Y/N, you feel so good," she moaned, her hips grinding against yours. "I love how you fill me up."

You reached up and cupped her breasts, the weight of them in your hands feeling perfect. Widowmaker arched her back, her head thrown back, her body moving with the rhythm you'd set.

"Oh, Y/N... Ungghhh, your cock is hitting all the right spots!" she cried out, her back arched, her ass undulating.

Widowmaker guided you to the edge of the couch, the change in angle providing even deeper penetration. You could see her plump ass jiggling with each thrust, the sight driving you wild.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Mmm... ahhh... fuck, yes! Keep going, baby."

You pulled her up, your lips meeting hers in a hungry kiss, your hands gripping her hips, guiding her body up and down your length.

Widowmaker pushed herself up, her eyes locked with yours. "Uuhhh, I'm close, don't stop, Y/N!"

You gave her hips a firm slap, feeling a delicious shiver run through her body. You flipped her over, positioning her on her hands and knees on the couch, her ass still presented to you like the perfect offering.

"Uahh, you are driving me wild, Lacroix," you growled, giving her ass a firm smack.

You plunged into her from behind, the tightness of her pussy sending a shockwave through your body. Widowmaker's moans grew louder, her hips bucking to meet your thrusts.

You lowered yourself to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. "Fuck, Y/N, harder! I want to feel that cock pound into me!"

You obliged, your thrusts becoming more forceful, your balls slapping against her ass with each movement. Widowmaker's cries grew louder, her French accent thickening, "Ugh, Y/N, you're breeding me like the wild stallion you are."

As you watched her body tremble beneath you, you felt the familiar pressure building. Widowmaker's eyes locked with yours, her face a mask of pure lust.

You gave one final, powerful thrust, your release spurting into her. Widowmaker cried out, her orgasm washing over her.

"Oh, Y/N, pound my pussy, I want that cum!" she shouted, her back arching as she came.

You collapsed onto her back, your chest heaving, sweat dripping down your temples. Widowmaker's body trembled beneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ahh, Y/N, your cock... I can't take it, I'm cumming!" she cried out, her body convulsing, her release coating your cock.

When your breathing had returned to normal, you looked down at Widowmaker, her hair tousled, her makeup smeared. Your heart raced as you realized what had transpired between the two of you, but for now, you savored the moment, the heat of your bodies still entwined.

"Uhhh, yes, Y/N, fuck me, don't stop, don't you dare stop," Widowmaker whispered, her voice heavy with satisfaction.

You didn't respond, simply pressing a soft kiss against her neck, content to linger in the aftermath of your heated encounters. As she caught her breath, you trailed your fingers through her damp curls, her body still humming from the orgasm you'd just given her. She looked up at you, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted in a soft smile.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against her earlobe before whispering, "Lacroix, I have a proposition for you."

Widowmaker met your gaze, her eyes piercing into yours. There was silence for a moment, the only sound was the soft rustling of her breathing.

You slowly inserted a finger into her wetness, gently massaging her inner walls. Widowmaker gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Ah, Y/N, you're still so... insatiable," she said, her voice heavy with lust.

You continued to stroke her, the rhythm slow but deliberate, your thumb teasing her clit. Widowmaker's body began to tremble, her breathing became labored.

"Mmm, Y/N, don't stop," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Your finger began to move faster, Widowmaker's moans growing louder. "Ahh, Y/N, I'm close, I can't... I can't take it!"

You withdrew your finger, then replaced it with two, curling them to hit her g-spot. Widowmaker's back arched, her legs trembling.

"Oh, daddy, stopppp... Ahhh... ahhh, don't... stop...!" she cried out, her voice almost a plea.

Her walls clenched around your fingers, the waves of her orgasm washing over her. You continued to stroke her until her body stilled, her breaths shallow and shaky.

You removed your fingers, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. When you pulled away, you looked her in the eye.

"Lacroix, your talent is wasted on Talon. I'm offering you a chance to join the good fight, to make a difference. It's time to leave your past behind and start a new chapter."

Widowmaker stared at you, her eyes reflecting a mixture of thought and uncertainty. Her stoic expression didn't falter, but her eyes hinted at the inner turmoil she faced.

You waited, allowing her time to consider your proposal. The silence stretched on, the tension in the room palpable.

Finally, Widowmaker nodded, her voice low and firm. "Y/N, I'll consider it."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "That's all I can ask for, Lacroix."

With that, the two of you lay entwined on the couch, the night still young and full of possibilities.

The future was uncertain, but for now, the promise of change lingered in the air. Widowmaker's stoic yet sultry demeanor remained, but perhaps, just perhaps, a small crack had formed, allowing hope to seep in.

And so, a new chapter began for Widowmaker, one that would test her loyalty and push her to confront her past.

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 19: Kiss the Ring

How are kindred spirits working out for you now? Would Spite like to weigh in on that topic?” Lucanis narrowed his eyes. “You’re impossible.” His hands found her waist, lifting her from his lap and inclining his head toward the kitchen doors.  “Come, I’ll walk you to your chambers.” “Are you kicking me out?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of spirited defiance. Lucanis smiled and leaned in close, lips brushing along her jawline. “It’s clear you are unwilling to listen to my words,” he murmured, “so I’ll have to find other ways of holding your attention until you take me seriously.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: A Dellamorte family heirloom causes more problems than it's worth.

Word count: 3.7k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis stirred at twilight, the embers of the fireplace long turned to ashes. Nestled in the crook of his arm, Rook shifted and groaned softly, her dark hair splayed across her face. He reached around, brushing a lock from over the bridge of her nose behind her ear, and carefully slipped out of bed.

Something wrong? With Rook?

Spite’s voice was far more quiet than usual. Lucanis wasn’t sure if it came instinctively to the demon, or if he was so concerned about Rook that he’d resorted to hushed whispers as his phantom-like form hovered over her as she slept.

She’s just dreaming, Spite. Leave her be. 

He pulled the curtain aside and glanced out at the sun rising over the gardens. Caterina would be awake soon, if she wasn’t already. Better he find her in the kitchen than for her to come knocking on his door. 

He bathed and dressed, scribbling a few words on a piece of parchment from his desk. Carefully, he pressed his lips to Rook’s temple and left the note on his side of the sheets. She grumbled something and swiped weakly at him before rolling over. He grinned, watching her resume her deep slumber before slipping into the hall.

Caterina. Then return here!

“That’s the plan.” He said to Spite under his breath.

Lucanis had never woken with a woman next to him before, let alone someone he felt so strongly about. He’d imagined it so differently. In another life, he would make breakfast, coffee, remain in bed until the afternoon and listen to her talk…

Mierda . He already hated this Talon business. After the Wigmaker job, he and his cousin had toasted to Illario’s future as First. Lucanis wanted none of the notoriety, the demands, the politics of it all. Had Ilario been patient and trusted him, things might have turned out differently…

And now nobody had what they wanted. Not really. Even with Rook in his bed, Lucanis had doubts about what it meant for them. Had they moved too quickly?

At the dining room table, Caterina was already situated with her breakfast, reading through a heap of correspondence. Evidently Illario had not delivered her mail while he had her locked away.

“Well, what was so urgent that you had to abandon your own celebration?” She didn’t bother to look at him as she scrawled something down.

Lucanis tensed and poured himself a cup of coffee, avoiding her eyes. He felt like a child again, as if her cane would come down across his shoulders at any moment. 

“I apologize. Rook and I were called away by an urgent matter-”

“Save it. I was young once.” Caterina snipped, cutting into her grapefruit with a spoon. “I know exactly what urgent matter you needed to address under my roof.”

Across the room, Lucanis caught one of the staff staring and shot her a disapproving glare until she blushed and hurried into the hall.

“Just don’t get that girl pregnant. Weddings and pregnancies are opportune times for enemies to present themselves.”

ROOK IS NOT-

“Caterina,” Lucanis squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his nose, praying to the Maker this did not turn into another nosebleed before he had the chance to explain Spite to his grandmother, “if we could talk about anything else…”

“Fine. We will talk about this .” She pushed her plate across the table. “I watched Fiammetta fight last night. Dante failed that girl. We train our children the way we do for a reason! But he abandoned Crow tradition the second he kicked the hornet’s nest that was the Antaam’s wrath!”

Waving her spoon in the air, she continued ranting.

“Dante never taught her to stay out of trouble, because he assumed trouble would always find her. Typical fathers, underestimating their daughters!” Caterina scoffed. “Fiammetta didn’t learn the instincts you and Illario did. Viago’s influence is the only reason she learned our ways fast enough to become a Crow.”

“Yet even with all Illario’s training, Fiamma still brought him to his knees.” Lucanis said in a warning voice. “You give her too little credit.”

“You brought him to his knees. Had he not had such a soft spot for her, she’d be dead. And every House watching that display last night knows it. Illario took a hostage when he could have easily taken a life. The Crows saw her exploit his weakness, not demonstrate her strength!”

WE! BROUGHT HIM TO HIS KNEES. 

Frustration and confusion warred in Lucanis’ eyes.

“Do you not care for her, Caterina, is that it? Did you try to chase her off during your private chat last night?” 

“If that were the case, I would not have wasted my time.”

“Then what is this about?”

“Do you really think it was Viago ’s idea to send her here as punishment?” Caterina sneered. “Fiammetta has potential. I had every intention of molding her into a better Crow during our time together, but she is beyond my reach now. You, however, can still help her.”

“You are not so charitable, Caterina. What do you get out of this?”

“You have always been such a romantic, Lucanis. Better you end up with someone like her, than someone who would take advantage of your position. House de Riva would be a strong, worthy, connection-”

“Enough.” 

Lucanis knew better than to raise his voice at his grandmother, but as he set his coffee mug down on the countertop, it took exceptional effort to remain composed.

“Let me make myself clear. I will take up the mantle of First Talon, and one day when you are gone, I will lead the Crows. Whatever is left of the Dellamorte name’s honor will be preserved by me. This House will endure.”

His fingers pressed hard against the ancient oak table as he leaned his weight over it.

“But if I end up with Fiammetta de Riva, it will be because it was not just my choice, but hers . Not the result of another plan you orchestrated. Not the future you decided for me.”

“I am not a matchmaker.” Caterina snapped, “I’d prefer you to remain alone than endure the loss, the paranoia, that comes with First Talon! If I could spare you that fate, I would, but I fought too hard, lost too much, to relinquish our title to another House. But if you insist on falling in love, do not choose someone that would die so easily.” 

Lucanis found both himself and Spite without words. Caterina was not a vulnerable person, but this was as close as he’d ever gotten to hearing some semblance of mourning from her. 

“You do not reach my age without becoming well acquainted with death. I have watched generations of Crows from birth to death, the rise and fall of Houses scratched from history books. I have killed people I once considered friends and lovers. That garden is fertilized by the bodies of my family, my children. I am wise enough to avoid arrogance, so believe me when I say that no Crow knows death better than me .”

Emotion did not betray her features as she spoke with unwavering conviction. Caterina looked down, stirring a dash of milk into her espresso. The porcelain cup, expertly crafted from bone ash, produced a delicate sound that contrasted his grandmother’s harsh tone.

“Never let your guard down around what you love, and always expect that you will lose it, anyway.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Following one of the deepest sleeps she’d had in quite some time, Rook reached across the mattress for Lucanis, her fingers brushing only the cool, smooth silk sheets. She squinted at the sunlight peeking through the curtains, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. A part of her questioned if it had all been a dream until she found a neatly folded note where Lucanis had slept.

In the unfortunate event you wake before I return, make yourself at home. - L

A slow smile spread across her face as she laid on her stomach, clutching his message tightly in both hands and rolling onto her back to stare at the bed canopy.

Lucanis Dellamorte invited her to his bed. How deep this went, she didn’t have the slightest idea, but just this once, she got something she wanted. Whatever happened next, no one could take last night from her. 

The marble floor was icy beneath her bare feet as she padded to the bathroom. No expense had been spared on the deep, clawfoot tub, or the floor to ceiling length mirror by the sink. Rook examined her disheveled hair, the raised welts and purple bruises blooming on her skin, before turning the tub faucet. The tap instantly delivered scalding hot water, and she winced as it burned her fingertips. Even Viago didn’t enjoy such luxuries. Caterina must have paid a fortune for these kinds of enchantments.

She bathed slowly, taking the time to sample Lucanis’ extensive collection of bath oils and salts from across Tevinter, just long enough to hear the door open in the bedroom. Rook stood and snatched a towel, wrapping it around herself just as Lucanis peeked inside the bathroom. 

“I brought you coffee. And these.” He set a folded stack of clothes on the counter. “They’re clean. You left them behind in the guestroom. Your boots are by the door and the staff are laundering your dirty clothes.”

She cocked her head at his distant tone, frowning as he ducked out the door. Wet footprints and puddles glistened in her wake as she crossed the bathroom floor, catching Lucanis by the wrist. He stiffened at the unexpected contact, and she pulled in him forcefully, jolting with surprise as her lips pressed against his. At last, he relented, one arm instinctively snaking around her waist as he melted into the kiss.

“You’re so reserved this morning.” She mumbled against his lips, “what happened?”

“Caterina.” He muttered, pulling away. As he retreated from the room, Rook let her towel drop to the floor and slipped on the clothes he’d brought her. The leather drug against her damp skin, fitting loosely on her torso. Leading in Varric’s absence had taken its toll on her body, and her old clothes highlighted her health’s decline. She felt a slight pang as she mourned her old self.

“Is your grandmother cross with you for leaving early?” Rook asked, flipping her damp hair out of her shirt and combing her fingers through it. As she stepped back into the bedroom, she found Lucanis on the edge of the mattress, attention fixed on her silk gown from the previous evening. Was he having regrets? 

“No, she’s…” He drug a hand down his face, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Just more eager for me to take her role than I had expected.”

“Can’t say she hasn’t earned her retirement,” Rook said, joining him, “but it’ll have to wait until these gods are dealt with.” 

Lucanis shook his head. “I won’t abandon our contract, Rook. I gave you my word.”

“I thought you wanted me to burn your contract?”

“I meant it.” Lucanis remained on edge, but his expression softened. “But you’d still have my word.” 

Rook’s heart thudded in her chest, an ache in her stomach intensifying as she watched him, brows furrowed in deep thought, beside her.

“Did we…make a mistake?” Her voice wavered slightly, and she regretted her words as soon as she spoke them. She wasn’t certain she wanted an answer.

Lucanis’ eyes widened.

“No, of course not! Last night was…” His voice faltered, and his palm slid over her leg, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake before coming to rest on her knee.

“It meant a lot to me, Rook.”

Her eyes darted away uncomfortably.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, I just would hate for you to-”

Lucanis interrupted her words, his hand sliding behind her head, pulling her closer until their lips met in a fervent kiss. The initiation flooded her with relief, and as he released her, his hand lingered on the back of her neck.

“Whatever this is?” He whispered with a smile, “I’ll take it.”

He stood up, his movements accompanied by the creaking of the bedsprings, and brushed the wrinkles from his perfectly tailored trousers.

“Viago is going to have questions, you know. We didn’t return through the eluvian with Davrin.” 

“This is hardly Viago’s business-“

“Since when has Viago minded his own business, Fiammetta?” Lucanis tilted his head with a grin. “Certainly not when it comes to you.” 

“Let me handle that.”

She stood up with a wink, retrieving her weapons from where Lucanis had set them on the coffee table and sheathing them at her waist.

“I’ll see you back at the Lighthouse?” She asked, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she tugged on her boots.

Lucanis forced a flat smile and nodded. 

“I look forward to it.” 

His gaze followed her to the door. Whatever had been troubling him still lingered there, but she didn’t dare ask about it.

“Rook?” He called after her. She glanced over her shoulder as her fingertips hesitated on the handle. 

“Watch your back today. After what happened with Illario…”

“I prefer when you watch it,” There was a playful challenge in her tone as her eyes glittered in the sunlight, “but I fare just fine on my own.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Shouldn’t you be babysitting?” Rook asked as she strode into the Cantori Diamond. Viago was alone at his desk, shuffling through a few papers. 

“It’s Teia’s turn.” He said without looking up. 

“You have a lot of trust in Illario.”

“I have a lot of trust in her.” 

Viago set his pen down, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

“We had a…productive talk. After I had him personally move your giant mirror back here. I don’t think he could so much as climb a staircase if he tried, between the swollen muscles and bruised ego.”

Rook considered a scathing remark, but something in her cousin’s face softened her. 

“I’m sorry, about yesterday. You caught me at a bad time.” 

“No, I…” Viago exhaled and dragged a gloved hand across his face. “Perhaps Teia is right. I am…hard on you.”

“You taught me…everything. It’s kept me alive. I could stand to be more appreciative.”

Viago’s brows knitted as if he doubted the intentions of her gratitude.

“Maybe my methods are no improvement over your father’s, but…I have high expectations of you because I know you are capable of rising to the occasion.”

Her cousin averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with his admission. Rook blinked in surprise, sparing him a verbal jab and glancing across the room.

“That being said, your fighting yesterday evening was sloppy.”

Ah, there it was. 

“Never miss an opportunity for criticism, do you, cousin?”

“You still lack the important teachings. Discernment, knowing your enemy, how to avoid a fight in the first place…” Viago’s lip curled, “But I blame your father, not you.”

“This I have to hear.”

“Then stop interrupting me and listen, Fiammetta!” Viago snarled. “ He didn’t care if you fought well, so long as you survived long enough for him to swoop in and save you. You shouldn’t need anyone to save you. I won’t always be around to, and you can’t hide behind Lucanis’ rank-”

“Excuse me? What does Lucanis have to do with any of this?”

“Is that not a Dellamorte heirloom on your finger? You did not join your friend to take the eluvian back to the Lighthouse after the party. Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“Caterina gave me this ring.” 

Viago shook his head and laughed bitterly.

“Cousin, you have no idea what you’ve accepted. Gifts from Caterina Dellamorte do not come without strings.”

“What could she possibly want from me?”

“Grandchildren. Legacy. Rebuilding the Dellamorte line.” He suggested, clearly displeased to be the one pointing it out. “You are the only woman Lucanis has ever shown a public interest in. Don’t think you are immune to her schemes, Fiamma.”

Rook examined Caterina’s ring with discomfort. Had it not been so sentimental, she’d have ripped it from her hand and thrown it in the canals by now. Maybe she could pawn it in the casino downstairs.

“I’m not the marriage and family type.” 

“No Crow thinks they are until…”

Viago swallowed uncomfortably, rearranging the papers in front of him. 

“I’m asking Teia to marry me.” He announced, clearing his throat. “When this is all over.”

Rook carefully schooled her expression of shock, not wishing to draw attention to them.

“Did you get her pregnant?”

“What? No! Do you take us for fools?”

“But why? The back-and-forth between you two is so fun to watch. Why ruin a good thing with marriage ?” 

Viago scowled, leaning forward and bracing his palms on his desk.

“I want every Crow to know that to cross her is to cross me. None of the fools in Antiva would give what I’d give for her. Would sacrifice themselves, everything to ensure-” 

He cut himself off and hung his head. 

“I think of little else. It torments me. It has since the moment I met her.”

“You’re in love.” Rook breathed. “I didn’t think it was possible for that poisonous heart to let anyone in.”

Viago pointed at her threateningly. 

“Say anything about this, and I’ll kill you myself.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook strode across the dark courtyard to the kitchen, where she could hear the timbre of Davrin and Lucanis’ voices through the door. She pushed her way inside, finding both of them slouched in chairs before the fire, Lucanis drinking wine from a coffee mug as Davrin waved a tankard around mid-story.

“-You try fighting a hill with a sword sometime!” 

Lucanis leaned forward in his seat. “How did you kill it?”

“Lamp oil. Everything stank of burnt tentacles for miles after!”

“If the two of you were going to open a bottle, you might have told me first.” Rook said. 

“It’s not a good bottle.” Davrin slurred.

“Rook!” Lucanis’ face slackened as he noticed her arrival, setting his cup aside. “You’re back. How was Viago?”

“Worried, under a thinly veiled demeanor of irritation. Nothing new.” She sat on the arm of Lucanis’ chair and he blushed, glancing over his shoulder at the pantry.

“Is anyone else hungry?” He asked. “Maybe I should cook something…”

Davrin glanced between them and snorted quietly to himself. 

“You know, I was just thinking about getting some sleep. Enjoy your evening.” He said suddenly, rising to his feet and striding toward the courtyard. “Assan! Bed.”

The griffin raised its head from where it had been napping by the fire, and reluctantly stood and shook itself awake, padding out after Davrin.

As the heavy doors closed with a soft thud behind them, Rook eased herself onto Lucanis’ lap. He straightened in his seat and he caught her in his arms, his body warm against hers.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” She asked with a smirk. 

“Only enough to make Davrin feel safe spilling all his secrets.” 

She leaned back, legs dangling over the arm of the chair as she draped herself across him. “What did you learn?”

“It turns out he has a sense of humor, under all the brooding.” He bent and kissed her affectionately. “Did you learn anything today?”

“I’d tell you, but Viago would kill me. So instead, I’ll confess that I think your grandmother is up to something.” Rook offered her hand to display Caterina’s ring on her middle finger. “She insisted I take this when we were speaking in the garden, but it feels wrong.” 

Lucanis reached out, his thumb gently grazing the surface of the opal.

“How did I miss that?” He wondered aloud, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Dark rooms. Distractions.”

He hummed in agreement, his eyes distant.

“She gave that ring to my mother once. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina to demand she surrender the seat of First Talon.”

“Maker, Lucanis! It should stay with you, not-”

“Caterina’s gratitude is always symbolic.” He said, “She’d never put it in words, but if not for you, I would be dead, and that seat she lost everything for would have been stolen to my cousin, who could not possibly appreciate her sacrifices to uphold our House’s place in the Crows.”

“How long will your line fight to keep First Talon before you realize it is a curse?” Rook exclaimed as she fumbled with the band on her finger. “I don’t want whatever strings are attached to this-”

Lucanis stopped her, holding her hand and deftly securing the ring in place.

“No strings. You owe nothing to anyone.” He reassured her. “Not my grandmother. Not me.”

Uneasiness washed over Rook, and she shifted uncomfortably. Lucanis, sensing her discomfort, kissed the pulse point of her wrist, his lips soft against her skin.

“Keep it, please,” he pleaded. “It suits you. Even as a child, I knew it was meant for you.”

Rook threw her head back and groaned. “ Enough .” 

“I stole it from Caterina the morning of the funeral to present to the Flame as a gift. I looked up to him, you know. Several of us young Crows did. It was fitting - a fire opal for the Flame after he lost his wife, the Gem…” 

With a tender touch, Lucanis traced a thumb along her cheekbone. 

“But I saw you alone, and…you were the first kindred spirit I’d encountered since my parents’ deaths.”

“Yeah? How are kindred spirits working out for you now? Would Spite like to weigh in on that topic?”

Lucanis narrowed his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

His hands found her waist, lifting her from his lap and inclining his head toward the kitchen doors. 

“Come, I’ll walk you to your chambers.”

“Are you kicking me out?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of spirited defiance.

Lucanis smiled and leaned in close, lips brushing along her jawline.

“It’s clear you are unwilling to listen to my words,” he murmured, “so I’ll have to find other ways of holding your attention until you take me seriously.”

Rook’s breath caught in her throat as desire swelled in her chest.

“I didn’t think you-” she began just as his fingertips danced down her spine.

“Go on, tell me what kind of man I am,” he challenged as he escorted her to the door. “I’d love to surprise you.”

[visionsofcarnality]

Ahhh thankyou for accepting the nightwing request, I'm so excited!! 💙💙

Dude the angst in this one spoke to me Im so excited.

It Will Come Back. D. Grayson.

“Honey, don’t feed me. I will come back.”

Synopsis: In a fight with a Court of Owls’ Talon, Nightwing is exposed to the weaponized Alice Tetch Virus (Hugo Strange weaponized strain.) This preys on his fears of being unable to protect his partner… Who comes face to face with a darker version of her lover’s alter-ego…

Warnings: Hallucinations (Auditory, tactile, and visual.), kidnapping, restraints, blood contagions, needles, injuries. Mention of mild gore and violence. Toxic mindset, personality alteration. Established relationship, female partner/reader. No use of Y/N.

(mdni below the cut, i am beyond dead serious)

Dick made it as far as three blocks from the Talon’s dead body before he started to hear things.

“You need to seriously consider what being in a committed relationship means for people like us.” Bruce slammed his hand down on the table tiredly, running the other through his inky hair, the strands showing a few hairs of grey amidst the darkness. “Every second you spend with her amplifies the danger she’s in.”

“You think I don’t know that…” He whispered, replaying the past week’s conversation as he leaned against an alley wall, clutching his head.

“She’s not safe. She never will be as long as she’s in your life.” The sound of the door slamming as he remembered he’d left the room after that particular remark.

He opened his eyes and tried to stand, blood rushing through his body at unnatural speeds. He looked down at his hands and ripped one glove off, breath stuttering as he noticed red veins climbing his skin.

“No…” He whispered. “No, no, no-“ He pulled his glove back on hastily, whipping around when he caught a glimpse of gold and green.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He hissed, glaring after the invisible attacker.

“Dick…” A soft, feminine voice. “That’s not what you really want.” A tall woman in a red, gold and green outfit appeared from the shadows, blood dripping down the side of her head just like the last time he’d seen her.

“Mom-“ He reached out a hand briefly before pulling it back. “What are- You’re dead.”

“Whose fault is that, Dick…” She laughed softly. “You think changing your uniform and your name makes you any less of my little flightless Robin.” Her soothing tone was so at odds with her words.

“Stop.” He begged, covering his ears, screaming aloud when blood suddenly spurted from her skull near her ear and a large, domed piece of bone fell from her head, pulling her scalp and some of her hair with it, leaving one side of her head cracked open like an acorn.

“Do you know what it feels like to fall, Dick?” She murmured dangerously, lifting her bloodied hand and touching his cheek, the contact hot, wet, and sticky. “To hit the ground with only your body to take the fall?”

“Stop it!” He shoved her back, her spin colliding with the opposite wall of the alley, her body splaying and cracking exactly how it had looked in the crime scene photos. How it had looked in his memories. The blood pooled on the wall as though she was lying flat, her body and the liquid defying gravity. Chunks of gray matter littered the wall.

Panting, eyes flitting about wildly, sprinting away from the alley and leaping to one of the lower rooftops, hauling himself above the streets.

“You think you can protect her, but you’re wrong!” That was Bruce now, standing in his path as he sprinted across the gravel rooftop. He skidded to a halt to avoid the collision, coming nose to nose with the taller man. “Everything you touch dies!” He hissed, and when Dick looked down he was clutching a familiar bloodied Robin uniform in his white knuckles.

“Your mother!” Bruce shouted, “Your father! Jason!” He lifted the blood stained uniform, dangling it in front of his face.

“It’s not my fault!” Dick cried desperately, closing his eyes only to open them and see that there was nobody there.

He had to get home. He had to get home. He had to make sure you were safe. His thoughts ran wild, preparing for any twisted and violent scene he’d come across when he entered your apartment.

You screamed when a body tumbled through your bedroom window, scrambling from your bed and backing against the wall.

“Baby-“ The man called but you didn’t wait, spinning to sprint for the door before two wide hands caught you by the arm and the torso, tugging you back against a hard body before a hand covered your mouth and nose.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna keep you safe.” The rough voice spoke hotly against your ear, your arms and legs thrashing violently as he cut off your oxygen. “You’re gonna be safe. Nothing will hurt you. Ever.” Your fight started to give and your eyes fluttered closed, your chest aching from the lack of oxygen… Then you were gone to sleep.

You woke next with your head on something hard, groaning at the headache. You were cold. And damp… Where the hell were you? Opening your eyes wider you looked around, spotting the steep, water-slick walls. The ceiling arching high above your head. A subway station. Abandoned by the looks of it.

“Don’t worry.” A dark voice called from the shadows, causing you to scramble to your feet and back away, tears pricking in your eyes. “You’re safe now.”

“You can’t keep me here.” You spoke shakily, hands rubbing your arms against the cold and dampness. “People will come looking for me.” Your voice shook with uncertainty, watching the stranger’s head tilt in the low light, the movement slow and unsettling. “They’ll arrest you.” You swallowed, hard. “My boyfriend is a detective he finds missing people every week.” You tried to force more bravado into your voice than you felt, especially as the stranger slowly unfolded to his feet, moving in a strange, unnatural way like some demon.

He stepped out of the shadows and as the light spilled across his face you cried out weakly, putting one hand to your face in shock.

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for you, baby.” He spoke, his voice stranger and darker than you’d ever heard it. “You’re safe here.”

“Dick-“ You broke off, noting the prominent red veins on the whites of his eyes and tracking up his neck to his cheek, splaying across his face like a bloodied cobweb. “What are you-“

“I’ve got to keep you safe.” He hissed, getting closer even as you tried to back away, fear poignant in your body language. “No one will be able to find you here.”

Tears fell down your cheeks as he backed you against the wall, turning your head as he dipped his to get into your space, his hot breath, once welcome and comforting, now feeling like a threat.

“I’m doing this for you.” He insisted, gripping your cheek to turn your face harshly, his hold on your jaw bruising. “Can’t you see that? Everything I do, it’s always for you!” He was shouting now, triggering a low cry of shock and fear, your knees buckling as you slid down the wall, sinking to the floor and clutching your legs fearfully.

“Don’t!” He screamed, gripping his hair with one hand and stepping back, reeling. “You don’t get it-“ He sighed heavily, shaking his head back and forth and lifting a hand erratically before he turned out of nowhere to scream at the wall.

“Shut the fuck up!” He screeched, pointing at the empty space. “All of you! I need to fucking think!” He gripped his head in both hands.”

You watched his outburst through your tears, your whole body trembling in fear, scared of what he was capable of… You’d never seen him like this. You thought you’d known him but… maybe he was this all along. Maybe it was all a front. You didn’t want to think like that, but the man in front of you was not the one you’d come to love.

There was something seriously wrong with him.

“Dick, just-“ You swallowed hard, trying to put on a gentle tone. “Let’s take a walk, let’s go up to the street, we can go talk about this.” You tried to think of a way to convince him. “It’s cold down here, Dick, I’ll get sick.”

“No!” He roared, whipping back to you and throwing a knife in your direction. You screamed in terror, arms coming up to protect your head. Bit the knife landed next to you, not hurting you, but discouraging you from moving. “It’s not fucking safe up there? Don’t you get it? Nowhere is safe! You’re not safe unless you’re here!” He ranted, arms flailing in large gestures as he spoke. “With me! I’m the only one you can trust!” He insisted, desperation lacing his dangerous tone. “Me! I’m the one who keeps you safe!”

“Nightwing.” Another voice joined the cacophony. Both your heads turning in the direction of the deep timbre of the newcomer. Like an oil spill out of the shadow a dark cowl appeared, a long, shadowy cape following. The flash of a black symbol on dark gray armor.

The Batman…

“Stop this.” He said flatly, casually strolling between you two, slowly, trying not to trigger any sudden movements. “You’re not yourself.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dick- Nightwing; shouted. “I told you to go away already!” He surged forward, some kind of long baton appearing in his hand, crackling with electricity as he lifted his arm in a deadly swing. The Batman dodged him, ducking behind the lithe man and locking his arms below his armpits, effectively putting him in a full nelson with one, thick arm.

“I’m not a hallucination, Dick.” The Batman spoke lowly. “You have to stop this. This is the virus, not you.” He jerked Dick’s head towards your cowering form, still sobbing quietly, terrified to move. “Look at her. You’re scaring her.” The Batman took the moment of hesitation from Dick as he stared at you to shove a thick syringe into his exposed neck.

Dick howled in rage, twisting and fighting in the Batman’s hold before falling limp, head dropping forward. The Batman restrained him at his hands and ankles on the ground before approaching you. “He’s unconscious. Unharmed.” He soothed, crouching to lift you to your feet. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He apologized, unhooking his cape from his armor and draping it over your shoulders against the cold. “He isn’t himself. He was infected with a virus that caused him to act like this.” When your gaze wandered past him to Dick’s slumped form. He tipped your head away from the sight, far gentler than Dick had been. You’d no doubt be sporting a bruise by the morning. “That wasn’t him.” He spoke softly.

“Will he be…” You swallowed hard. “Will he be… him again?” You asked, wiping hasty tears across your cheeks even as more joined them.

“Yes.” The Batman said solemnly, turning to look at Dick. “For him… This will all have been a cruel dream.” He turned towards you again, “For you… It will be harder to go back. I can keep him away for a few days. Give you some space.” You nodded fervently, whimpering softly as your tears began anew.

“Red Robin, an associate of mine, is coming to make sure you get home safe.”

“I need to get to a hotel…” You spoke absently. “I can’t… I can’t go back home tonight.”

The Batman nodded. “He’ll leave you at a Hyatt. The room will be paid for for a week. Your clothes and any belongings you need will be dropped at the address.” He turned away, strolling back to you Dick. “Tell my associate what you need. We will make sure you have it.”

You stood there, wrapped in the most notorious vigilante in Gotham’s cape, watching him haul your unconscious boyfriend over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t remember telling Red Robin what you needed, or him finding a way to get you set up in a hotel for the week.

You only remembered collapsing on the hotel mattress, still wrapped in the borrowed cape.

And crying yourself to sleep.

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Sex into making love

I'll be real this one got away from me but oh do I love these two...also Ifrit has a big fat praise kink and you cannot change my mind

Pairing: Zephrit

Word Count: 2250

They always fall into each other so easily. A wink from Ifrit at breakfast. A lingering touch from Zephyr when they share lunch. Uncontrollable hands and tails at dinner. They touch and they taste and they tease each other all day until one of them finally breaks. Tonight it was Zephyr who fell like a tree in a windstorm. They can’t be blamed. Not when Ifrit had been whispering absolute filth into their feathered ear while cuddled up in the common room for movie night. They lost it when he nuzzled into the feathers on their neck, hands squeezing their inner thighs. Zephyr excused both of them, feigning a migraine as reason for their exit. 

The moment the two were back in their shared room Zephyr took their long white hair out of the bun it had been in all day. They shook their head, running a talon through the strands to scratch at their scalp. Ifrit watched, leaning against the door with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. 

“Want me to braid it for you birdie? Since your head just hurts so much” Ifrit pushes off the door, closing the distance between them. 

“I want you on your knees” Zephyr doesn’t look up at him, eyes closed while they fiddle with a knotted strand. 

Ifrit chuckles as they move to sit on the edge of the bed. He raises an eyebrow when their legs spread, looking at him expectantly. 

“Oh come on birdie you know that’s not how this works” Ifrit looms over them. 

“Really now” they tilt their head in question “then why don’t you tell me how it works love.” 

He leans in, caging them with his arms “you lay there and take it. Until you’re begging.” 

Zephyr snorts a laugh “I’m sorry love it’s impossible to take you serious” they faux wipe a tear from their eye “now be a good boy and get on your knees for me.” 

“Or what?” 

The temperature of the room drastically lowers as the scent of citrus becomes overwhelming. Ifrit doesn’t have time to backpedal before he feels immense pressure all around him. He falls to the floor with a hard thud that’s sure to leave bruises in the morning. Zephyr looks down at him with disgust, yellow eyes glowing and hair flowing in an imperceptible breeze. 

“Wasn’t so hard” they pat his cheek before maneuvering around to quickly pull their clothes off. 

Ifrit’s eyes rake over their body, that suave persona leaving the moment he sees those soft down feathers between their legs. He wants to bury his face in them, dip a bit lower to taste. He tries to scoot forward when they sit back down, but the pressure is still heavy around him. Zephyr huffs a laugh when they see that look in his eyes. 

“Hells you’re so easy. It’s cute, really” they spread their legs further putting their half hard cock on display “come on. Make good use of that mouth.” 

The pressure lessens just enough for Ifrit to move in. He runs his nose down that happy trail of feathers, purring at the softness. He travels further down where feather turns to skin. He breathes in deeply, mouthing at the base of their cock. Zephyr shudders and tugs his horn. He gets the hint, dropping his mouth and letting his tongue loll out. 

They slowly feed it to him, inch by inch until their cock is all the way down his throat. It’s quiet except for the heavy breaths Ifrit exhales through his nose. Zephyr pets his cheek, cooing about how sweet he looks before fucking into his mouth. Ifrit gags and they give him a moment to breathe. Ifrit looks up at them through wet lashes and they fist his hair, groaning in response. Ifrit huffs a laugh. 

“And you say I’m easy.”

Zephyr doesn’t get the chance to respond. Ifrit suckles at the head of their cock before taking them right back down his throat. They have to fight to keep the noise that threatens to rise down in their chest. Their hips twitch forward with every pass of Ifrit’s tongue against the underside of their cock every time he bobs his head. Up and down. Up and down. The wet click of his throat each time the tip presses in is maddening. Zephyr can’t stand how much of an effect he has on them. They wrap a hand around his horn, pulling him off of their dick with an obscene pop. He stares up at them, half lidded eyes and drool running down his chin. They pull him into a sloppy kiss, tongue immediately slipping into his mouth. Ifrit moans into their mouth, tilting his head up to chase their taste. 

“I need you. Right now” Zephyr pants into the space between them. 

“How do you want me?” 

“Fuck on your back love. I need to ride you.” 

Ifrit presses back in, capturing them in a quick equally messy kiss before pulling back. Ifrit stands slowly and Zephyr snaps their fingers, releasing all of the pressure around him. Ifrit nearly falls over with the sudden change, but Zephyr darts a hand out to catch him. He just laughs, shakes his head, and crawls into the bed. He lays against the pillows, stretching himself out and wrapping a hand around his cock. He lazily strokes himself from root to tip, watching Zephyr settle between his legs. 

They slide up to straddle his hips, letting the head of his cock catch against their ass. Ifrit’s eyes flutter at the feeling. 

“Eyes open now. You know better than that” Zephyr coos. 

He does know better, but fuck it’s so hard to look at them when they sink onto his cock. It’s too much for him to watch the mask slip, watch the way their face softens in pleasure all because of him. He’s cum like that before, practically untouched and so sensitive, all because of that look in their eyes. Even so, he’ll always give his birdie what they want. 

He forces his eyes open and Zephyr grins. They hoist themselves up on shaking legs, reaching back to wrap a hand around his cock. They squeeze, a warning for Ifrit to keep himself under control, before slowly settling themselves so that the tip of his dick brushes against their hole. They steady themselves with a hand to his chest, taking a deep breath before they start to sink down. Ifrit’s chest heaves, a shuddering groan filling the air when he slips inside. 

Zephyr takes a moment to breathe when they’re fully seat, willing themselves to focus more on the full feeling of Ifrit instead of the ache in their knees. Ifrit’s legs come up on instinct, muscular thighs supporting their back as they slowly sit up and sink back down. He fights to not fuck up into them. It’s so hard for him to focus on anything with that tight hole clenching around his cock with every downward stroke. 

Zephyr can see that fight in his eyes and they make it so much worse. Their hands roam and squeeze at his chest. Sharp talons circle a pierced nipple and Zephyr’s stomach swoops at the pleading look at Ifrit’s face, silently begging them to not do it. They watch his face intently when they pinch his nipple between thumb and forefinger. Ifrit loses the fight, hips arching off the bed to drill his cock deeper into them. 

“Fuck Frit just like that keep doing that” they fall forward, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and burying their face in his neck. 

He digs his claws into the mattress, arms encircling them to hold them close. He ruts up into them with the same force. 

“Feels so good birdie shit” he presses a kiss between their horns before his head falls back against the pillows with a moan. 

Zephyr pants heavily against his neck, taking in the spicy sweet scent of him. Their eyes are screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of that dick piercing dragging deliciously against their prostate. 

It doesn’t last long though. Maybe their legs had been bunched up for too long. Maybe it was the awkward angle they were laying in. Maybe it was something else entirely, something they didn’t even realize was wrong. Whatever it was, something in their body popped and a flare of pain zapped through them. They yelp, hissing through their teeth. Ifrit stops immediately. 

“Zeph what’s wrong?” 

For a moment Zephyr curses him for always being so perceptive, knowing what each of their little noises mean. But then those warm hands are rubbing their back and asking them what’s wrong again in a softer tone. They couldn’t be more grateful for him. 

“Something popped.” 

“Is it like that time your back popped and you—“

“No” they shout, interrupting him before they have to relive that particular memory “no this hurts.” 

He cranes his neck to be able to look at them, gently rubbing the back of their neck until they lift their head to meet his gaze. They could be sick from those sweet orange eyes. 

“Do you need to stop?” He asked softly. 

“No. No, I want to keep going.”

“If you’re positive.” 

“Yeah just…lay me down. I think it's somewhere in my legs.” 

Ifrit gives them a chaste kiss before pulling them off of him as gently as he can. Zephyr shudders at the loss. Ifrit lays them down, reaching behind them to grab one of their many pillows. He carefully lifts their hips which earns him a hiss from Zephyr before placing the pillow down. Once they’re completely settled against all of the soft bedding, Ifirt slots himself between their legs. He lets his fire bleed to his hands, gently rubbing them across their hips and down their thighs. 

Zephyr groans just from the relief, earning an affectionate chuckle from Ifrit. He pulls his knees together, pulling them slightly onto his lap. He rubs soothing little circles into their hips as he pushes back into them. He starts slow, testing the waters by pulling all the way out and sinking right back down. He keeps the languid pace until Zephyr pulls him in by the back of his neck. 

“Faster” they demand “harder.” 

“Whatever you want birdie” he pants. 

He thrusts into them with a snap of his hips. It’s nowhere close to the pace he had before, but it’s steady enough to have soft sighs and grunts spilling from Zephyr’s mouth. They keep their arms wrapped around his shoulders. Ifrit thinks they’re beautiful like this. When that pinch of pain between their brows is gone and they look so relaxed. He watches their face screw up in pleasure every time he buries his cock into them. 

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” 

Ifrit groans when they clench down hard on him in response. He pulls back just enough to get a good look at them and his stomach swoops. They’re looking up at him with those piercing yellow eyes, half lidded and clearly studying him. Their white hair is fanned out around them like wisps of cloud on a bright blue day. When Ifrit bumps against that delicious spot inside of them the feathers on their neck ruffle. Fuck they’re so beautiful. He can’t fucking stand it. He bends back down to capture them in a kiss, hips grinding against their ass. 

“Fuck I fucking love you” he groans into their mouth. 

Zephyr’s grip tightens, making sure he stays close “I love you too. My wildfire. My light. My Ifrit.” 

They nip his bottom lip and he loses it. He thrusts into them one more time before spilling deep inside of them. He grinds his hips, fucking his cum as deep as it’ll go. 

“You’re so good to me” Zephyr coos, petting through sweaty red hair. 

Ifrit only takes a moment to catch his breath before snaking his hand in between their bodies to wrap around Zephyr’s cock. He feels it kick in his hand at the contact and he knows how close they are. He strokes them, squeezing around the head with each pass of his fist. He kisses along their jaw, a litany of adoration following each press of lips to skin. It doesn’t take much more until they’re cumming hard, dripping down Ifrit’s fingers as he pulls every last drop from them. 

He lets go of their cock and he feels the shuddering stop. He brings his hand up, waiting until Zephyr opens their eyes again so they can watch as he sucks their cum off of each finger. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” 

Ifrit chuckles and noses against their temple “and I’ll be right behind you all the way back to Hell.”

“Oh how sweet my murderer is going to stalk me in the afterlife” they roll their eyes, but the smile never leaves their lips “will I ever be rid of you?” 

“Never” he rolls over, pulling them in to lay against his chest. 

Zephyr buries their face against his sweaty skin to hide the deep blue blush on their face “Good.” 

They lay like that together until they fall asleep. Ifrit keeps his temperature up for them even as he lies unconscious. Even deep within his dreams, Ifrit will take care of Zephyr. He’d never let them go a day in pain if he could help it. He would always fall into Zephyr, all they had to do was say the word. 

[velarisnightsky444]

Punishment*

Kinktober Day 2: Impact Play with Feysand

A/N: I might struggle with this one. The randomizer chose Feysand for this one so wish me luck, yall. 18+

CW: Impact play, fingering, punishment, d/s dynamics

Summary: You are mated with Feyre and Rhysand. They have been away for a meeting recently.

Word Count: 546

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Your mates had been away on business for over a week. You had missed them so much that you had hardly left your room.

Rhys had been sending you images of him and Feyre making love every night.

The night before, you hadn't been able to help yourself. You'd slipped your fingers down and rubbed that bundle of nerves until you came.

"Touching yourself with permission, darling?" Rhys had said into your mind.

And now they were coming home, and you were waiting in the bed you all shared, knees pulled to your chest.

The door opened.

You glanced up, seeing the High Lord and Lady in the doorway, Rhys with a disapproving expression stretched across his features.

Feyre pouted when she saw you, she floated over and sat down at your side. She placed her hand on your cheek.

"Are you angry with me, Fey?" you whispered. She hummed and brushed her thumb across your lip.

"Is what Rhys told me true?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Did you touch yourself without permission?"

You looked down at your lap, unable to lie to her. She tutted and shook her head at you.

Rhys approached, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. With a thought, your clothes were gone. You squealed, your hands covering your chest.

"Nothing we haven't seen before, darling," he teased. You glared at him.

The talons of his powers clawed at your mind. You opened your shields to him and he entered.

He took over your mind, forcing you to turn around for him and get down on all fours. You arched your back under his control, dropped to your forearms, and lifted your ass.

You tried to fight, but you couldn't move. He was inside your head, holding you in place.

"You'll take ten," he decided.

You nodded, knowing it could be much worse. Feyre heatedly slid two fingers inside you. You shuddered and let out a moan.

"Don't make any noise," she cooed, stroking your hair with her other hand.

You bit your lip to keep quiet as her fingers continued to move in and out of you. Rhys was on the other side of you.

You jerked, screaming as you felt the first smack land on your ass. Feyre gripped your hair and yanked your head back.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" she reminded you. You tried to nod against her grip. "Good." She let go of your hair and you dropped your head.

The second strike landed and you whimpered. Feyre's pace, which she had set with her fingers, stopped. She delivered the third blow herself. You hid your face in the mattress to muffle your sounds.

The fourth slap was also delivered by Feyre, but after the fifth, she returned to sliding her fingers into your core.

The sixth strike was hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. The pain mixed with the pleasure Feyre gave confused and aroused you.

The last four made the tears actually fall. But you managed to hold back your sobs.

"You took it so well," Feyre praised with a smile.

Rhys' talons released your mind, and you sat up immediately, tears streaming down your face. Feyre wiped them away for you.

"We missed you, y/n," Rhys promised you. You glared at him, which made him smile sinfully.

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Feysand Taglist:

General Taglist:

comment to be added to the taglists!

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[weemssapphic]

heaven in your touch

Lucifer x fallen angel!reader

A last little Kinktober gift ❤️‍🔥 Happy Halloween! 👻

Words: ~2.9k

Content/warnings: light angst in the beginning, nsfw (smut - minors DNI) - The Wing Thing™️, thigh riding, face sitting

A/N: @dovesintherain said I should write a Lucifer fic so :) here ya go guys :) hope it's alright!!

“Your Majesty?”

Standing in the doorway to Lucifer’s chambers, your voice is barely above a whisper - and yet it echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the walls before fading into a tense silence. The lightbringer sits at the edge of the massive bed at the center of the room with their back to you - their wings twitch at the sound of your voice. After a long sigh, they turn their head to the side.

“Come in.”

You step fully into the room, closing the door softly behind you and taking quick, quiet steps towards the bed, the black marble floor cold and smooth beneath your bare feet. Coming to a stop directly in front of Lucifer, you bow your head - you can feel their eyes boring into you, can sense their cursory glance of your form, and it makes your entire body prickle like a live wire. Even seated they’re taller than you - you feel small and intimidated.

“Mazikeen has sent someone new,” they remark, and your cheeks begin to burn. You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure whether or not they are expecting you to speak.

“Well, little angel?” 

Your gaze snaps up to meet Lucifer’s - cerulean eyes dance with amusement at the surprise written across your face. Swallowing hard, your words come out barely above a whisper. “H-how did you know?” Your voice wavers, catching in your throat, and Lucifer chuckles.

They raise an eyebrow and tilt their head, their gaze once again sweeping your body - you shiver in response. “Tell me, how did you fall? What did a meek little thing like you do to incur the wrath of God?” Their voice is low and measured, causing goosebumps to rise all over your skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut as a heavy silence falls over the room. It’s clear that Lucifer requires an answer but you struggle to get the words out as your throat constricts and your stomach begins to churn. The silence rings out in the large room, almost deafening.

“Well?”

“I-” Tears prick at your eyes - your fall was recent, and you’re still struggling immensely coming to terms with it. “I took a lover.”

Hearing Lucifer let out a breath, you open your eyes to see them peering down at you through hooded eyes, pale pink lips curling into a devilish smirk.

“Did you now?”

You nod slowly, your entire body prickling with the heat of embarrassment as the lightbringer’s gaze rakes up your form, much slower than the last time - they linger at your clothed pelvis, the swell of your breasts, your lips, your flushed cheeks. “Are you embarrassed, little angel?”

You nod again - your heart is beginning to pound harder and harder the longer you’re standing under Lucifer’s scrutinizing gaze. You can feel its pump in your throat, can hear the blood rushing through your body like a whirring in your ears.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed with me,” they coo, their voice gentle and teasing. “I understand, after all.” Their wings flex behind them, catching your eye - it mesmerizes you and your eyes travel over the long, black tendons, the leathery expanse of flesh, the razor sharp talons. When your gaze lands back on Lucifer’s face, you notice them watching you, their expression unreadable.

“I-I’m sorry, your Majesty. I shouldn’t…” They tilt their head and you pause for a moment as the air threatens to leave your lungs. “I was sent to help you dress. I shouldn’t burden you with my sins.”

Lucifer smirks, a mischievous glint in their eyes. They stand, towering over you at their full height. It should scare you - they are the Devil, after all; they should strike fear into your heart, their close proximity should intimidate you. But, instead, you feel a familiar tingling in the pit of your stomach, a slow, building ache between your thighs as you crane your neck back to meet Lucifer’s gaze - intense, burning, all-consuming. You feel a pull towards them, one that you are well-acquainted with - one that, in your previous life, had been your downfall, and you swallow hard.

“Well, then. Let’s not waste any more time,” they say airily, raising an eyebrow.

Swallowing thickly, your gaze drops to Lucifer’s waist, to the tie of their robe. Your fingertips graze the red silk - it’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. You get to work, carefully undoing the tie and allowing the robe to fall open. Your eyelids flutter and your mouth goes dry as their bare flesh is slowly revealed to you - pale, smooth. Drinking them in, your eyes travel over the soft expanse of their stomach, up the valley between small, perfectly round breasts.

They shift slightly and the robe falls open even further, and you notice that they aren’t wearing anything at all underneath - your eyes dart to their venus mound, to the little patch of curls there, before you quickly look away, your cheeks scarlet.

Lucifer tuts. “What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing,” you stammer, raising your hands to pull the robe the rest of the way off Lucifer’s body - your hands tremble as they reach up to Lucifer’s shoulders, guiding the garment slowly down their arms until it flutters to a heap at their feet.

Lucifer regards you carefully, taking note of your blush and your trembling. “Do you desire me?” they husk, and for a moment your lungs cease to function, your heart standing still. You chance a glance at their face, surprised by the way their pupils have dilated and their cheeks have flushed. Their lips part ever so slightly and their tongue darts out to wet them - they notice you staring and smirk down at you.

You start to shake your head vigorously. “I-”

“Don’t even think of lying to me, little angel.”

“I… Yes, y-your Majesty.” “Yes, what?”

“Yes - I desire you.” You hold your breath, bracing for Lucifer’s wrath. Instead, the outer corners of their lips curl upwards and they take a step closer to you - they’re flush against you now, and you can feel their body heat radiating off of them in waves. Only the thin layer of your own clothing separates you from feeling their bare skin brush against yours.

“There’s no need to be ashamed of your desire. You will face no punishment from God in Hell.” A warm hand cups your cheek, urging you to meet their gaze. You do, and the unfettered lust you see written across Lucifer’s face draws a whimper from your throat as your pussy begins to throb.

Their hand slides from your cheek to your chin, long, slender fingers taking a firm hold of it. “Well, my little lamb - are you going to take what you desire?”

Your eyes widen - you’ve never indulged in your desires in the light of day, never given into your urges so openly - and with the Devil themselves, no less. Is it a trick? Will there be repercussions? Your fingers twitch at your side - Lucifer notices and grins wickedly.

“Go on,” they purr.

After another moment’s hesitation, you reach out and place your hands lightly on Lucifer’s waist. It’s no longer the robe that is the softest thing you’ve ever felt - it’s them, their skin: warm and smooth underneath your palms. Your hands burn where your skin meets their own, and you notice the way they lean subtly into your touch.

A heavy silence hangs over the room and time seems to stand still as you deliberate your next move. Hesitantly, you lean forward and place a tender kiss to the hollow of Lucifer’s throat - your lips tingle where they meet soft flesh, and as you linger you can feel the movement of their chest as they breathe.

Your lips trail down their sternum - softly, reverently - reaching the valley between their breasts before traveling to their right breast. Pausing, you look up through your lashes to see Lucifer watching you, eyes sparkling with amusement, lips quirked into a soft smile.

Feeling encouraged, you wrap your lips around their nipple and suck gently - Lucifer sucks in a sharp breath as your warm tongue flicks over the small bud, and you let out a contented moan. Your grip on their waist tightens and you pull them closer, eagerly swirling your tongue around their nipple, alternating between each of their supple breasts. Their hand rests on the back of your head, holding you in place - the way that their fingers twist themselves in the strands of your hair emboldens you, and you graze your teeth across the pert bud.

Lucifer hums, their fingers tightening in your hair, and you bite down - they hiss, yanking your head sharply back by the hair.

You raise your eyes to see Lucifer glaring down at you, their lip twitching - your heartbeat stutters in your chest and you feel your blood go cold as dread floods your system. You’ve taken it too far and now-

Lucifer’s lips crash into your own, demanding and… desperate? Their tongue invades your mouth and they groan - it’s as if they’re trying to consume you entirely. You can feel their hands come to rest on your waist, roughly spinning you around, pushing you back onto the bed. The mattress is soft beneath your back, but not as soft as Lucifer’s lips as they move against your own. Their tongue explores the cavern of your mouth, licking eagerly against yours and drawing soft noises of pleasure from your chest as you lose yourself in the dizzying sensation.

You feel a hand push between your bodies, and then Lucifer’s nimble fingers are undoing your robes and shoving them roughly off your shoulders. They press their body into your own - their skin burning hot where it meets yours, and you think you might faint as you feel them start to rub themselves against you, the intensity of their kiss growing by the minute.

They shift subtly on top of you so that your thigh is between theirs, and you gasp as you feel how wet they are. As they begin to rut against you in earnest, the kiss turns sloppy and you can feel their hot breath quicken against your mouth.

“Can you,” you mumble against their lips, your mind growing hazy as the growing ache between your thighs makes it hard to focus. “Can you come up, sit on my face?”

Lucifer stills in their movements and pulls back for a moment. You freeze, the blood rushing to your face as you realize what you’ve just requested of the Devil - wondering if, perhaps, you really have gone too far this time. But a moment later you see their pupils dilate, any trace of brilliant sapphire vanishing, their gaze lustful and overwhelming.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, little angel?” They smirk and all you can do is nod, stunned, as they crawl slowly up your body and position themselves over you, so that plush thighs encase your head. Their cunt glistens with arousal - you’ve never been more aroused in your life as they slowly lower themselves onto your face and you finally get a taste of them.

Running your tongue eagerly up their folds, you let out a low moan - warmth tingles in your belly as Lucifer echoes your moan, grinding down harder against your mouth. Your tongue flicks against their clit as you wrap your arms around their thighs to draw them as close as you can.

Above you, Lucifer’s own hands find their breasts, fondling the soft mounds of flesh, rolling their nipples between their fingers as they rut against you. Every roll of their hips brings a fresh wave of heat to your own core, and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to find relief as your tongue circles their clit and explores their folds.

As you take your time feasting on the lightbringer, you notice a subtle wave of cool air against your body. Looking up, you see that their wings, dark and formidable, have stretched out to their full - and very impressive - length, fluttering almost imperceptibly.

You remember how sensitive your wings used to be, before you lost them in the fall - charred to bits. You wonder if Lucifer’s wings, changed in their own fall, have lost sensation, and you cannot help but to slowly inch your hand from their thigh up their lower back, until your fingertips find the base of where their wings sprout from their spine.

After a moment’s hesitation, you brush a finger over the base of their wings with a featherlight touch - and are instantly rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as a visible shiver travels through Lucifer’s body. Their hips stutter and they grind themselves into your mouth, so hard you feel you might suffocate - but you don’t mind, because they feel so good and they taste so good and they - the Devil themselves - seem to be responding to your touch. It drives you mad.

You try again, this time applying a bit more pressure and adding a second finger as you allow your touch to travel outward along the bottom of their wing. Lucifer moans, their wings twitching and their breath catching in their throat. Their expression as they look down at you - a mixture of surprise, lust, and awe - makes your heart begin to pound.

“Do that again,” they demand, breathless.

You obey, tracing over the smooth, leathery membrane of their wings and feeling those wings ripple beneath your touch as Lucifer’s lips part and their eyelids flutter shut. You can feel them get even wetter and you lap eagerly at their pussy, gathering their essence on your tongue before gently teasing their clit, your fingers continuing their exploration of their wings. 

Eventually, you’ve traced over as much of their wings as you can manage from your position, and you let out a little growl of frustration which vibrates against their cunt and causes them to jerk their hips against your mouth.

“What does my little angel want, hm?” Lucifer coos, though the breathiness of their voice betrays them as they arch their back into your touch. You reach up with both hands and flatten your palms against their wings as best you can, caressing the smooth leather. Lucifer keens. “T-tell me,” they breathe, taking most of their weight off your face so you can answer.

“I want to please you.” The words come out a jumbled rush and, even through the haze of their pleasure, Lucifer manages a smirk and a breathy chuckle.

“And how would you like to do that?”

“Your, um…” You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you trace little patterns along the base of their wings, as if to emphasize your point. “Your wings, your Majesty… could I…”

The lightbringer shifts off your face and settles next to you, waiting for you to scramble up and sit behind them. Once you do they flex their wings, stretching them out - they’re breathtaking. You can see the muscles in their upper back and shoulders ripple and flex - their body is sculpted to perfection, the most divine of beings.

You’re almost too awestruck to move, but then you realize that they’re waiting for you and you reach out to touch the pad of your finger to the upper ridge of their wing and move outward in gentle strokes. A visible shiver shoots up Lucifer’s spine, and you repeat the action on the other side. Lucifer’s form shifts before you and a drawn-out moan falls from their lips - they throw their head back, blonde curls catching the light, and you realize from the trembling of their shoulders and the subtle movement of their pelvis that they’re touching themselves.

The muscles in their shoulders contract as you continue to stroke their wings, taking your time to explore every ridge, every joint. You experiment with speed and pressure, seeing what kinds of reactions you can draw from the lightbringer. On a whim, you drag your fingernails across the membrane of their wings, tantalizingly slowly - they arch their back and roll their hips, a breathy groan clawing its way out of their throat.

You switch from your nails to your knuckles, brushing them along the dark expanse before focusing on the upper ridge. It feels smooth and soft against your skin, and Lucifer writhes with pleasure, the noises spilling from their lips becoming louder and more obscene as you reach all the way to the tip of one wing.

What makes them finally come undone is the way you throw caution to the wind and flatten your tongue against their wing, tracing a path along the ridges and tendons. Their entire body jerks, wings trembling beneath your lips as they cum. A strangled cry - soft, breathy, utterly broken - pierces the air. It’s the most sinful sound you’ve ever heard, and you nearly cum as well just from the sound alone.

Lucifer’s body twitches with the aftershocks and they slump forward, catching themselves with their hands. A long period of silence stretches between you - your own heat is still throbbing, begging for release, but the longer Lucifer goes without moving, the more unsure of yourself you become.

Until they turn around. Their cheeks are flushed and their chest is heaving, and their eyes roam over your body with a hunger that steals the air from your lungs. On instinct, you scramble back a bit as your heart begins to pound against your ribcage. Lucifer smirks, their pupils dilating.

“Well, little angel,” they husk, crawling over to you until they’re towering over you, looking like a predator about to catch their prey. “It’s only fair that I return the favor, isn’t it?”

x

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[whimsimille]

POMEGRANATES

Jeong Jin-Man x female! reader

Pandemonium overtook the cabaret, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering pierced through the cacophony.

Before you found refuge in the room and made a beeline for the closet, your eyes had taken in the eerie spectacle. The grand chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast ominous shadows that danced on the walls, their movements dictated by the tongues of flames consuming the room. Smoke, ashen and thick, curled upwards, a grim proof of the chaos below. It originated from multiple sources: tablecloths set ablaze, furniture upturned and broken, and bottles of discarded alcohol shattered upon impact from stray bullets. The stench was overpowering—a sickening cocktail of gunpowder, sweat, and blood.

One man clutched his stomach where he'd been shot; another woman sobbed uncontrollably near an upturned piano while cradling her head wound; yet another lies motionless near a pool of crimson liquid.

Imagining the worst case scenarios playing out of the reach of your eyes, you hope that whoever's shooting will miss their target.

But then again, if they did, they wouldn't have come here in the first place. This place was a haven for criminals, a den of vice—no honor among thieves—and it looked like someone wanted to reclaim the turf or send a message.

You didn't care about any of that; all you cared about was survival. And Min-Hye.

Through the cracks in the closet door, you watched in horror.

Bodies lay scattered like broken dolls, some screaming for mercy or moaning in pain, while others just lay still—dead or unconscious. It's hard to tell which is worse. Blood drips from their wounds and mixes with spilled alcohol on the floor as chaos ensues around you both.

Men in black tactical gear methodically searched each room, their eyes glazed over with a cold detachment that sent shivers down your spine. They moved swiftly and efficiently, leaving little room for error or hesitation. Their guns were cocked and ready to fire at any sign of movement.

Your Korean wasn't as good as your English to understand everything they said, but you caught enough to realize that they were looking for the girls.

Holding Min-Hye tightly against you, you notice how her soft curves nestled into your own body—the direct opposite of the flimsy lingerie she wore.

Your own clothes were practically torn to shreds from when they'd dragged you into the back room, and your skin was bruised and battered from their rough handling. But there was no time to mourn that now.

Min-Hye let out a whimper as the scream of a woman rang out, but you quickly grabbed her face and put it on your neck.

"Shh, shh," you whisper into her ear, gently stroking her hair as you try to calm her down.

The older woman shook in your arms, her frightened breaths hot against your neck. They were almost upon you now; you could feel their presence through the closet door, like a foul wind that reeked of sweat and gunsmoke. One hard kick and it would all be over. But you couldn't just let them take her—not like this. Not while she was clinging on to you so desperately, trusting in your protection. You had to do something—anything.

"You're going to be okay," you whisper, even though you know you might both end up dead.

Strangely, you feel calm and detached. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or perhaps it's because you've been in similar nightmarish situations before.

Growing up, your home was a battlefield. Your mother, with her razor-sharp words and fists as hard as talons, and your father, a drunk who spent more time stumbling than holding a job.

Your childhood was a blur of violence and fear—trying to drown it out with the solace of books. But that didn't stop bullets from flying and bombs exploding, or men with guns barging into your home, looking for who knows what. You knew how to survive in these situations. How to stay quiet and hidden, how to move without being seen or heard. You were an expert at keeping yourself alive, you learned never to show fear, never to scream, and never to go down without a fight. You learned to toughen up, to leave scars on whatever dared to harm you.

The closet you're in now is cluttered with discarded sex toys, torn dresses, and stained undergarments. Amid the chaos, you spot a pile of black leather items—remains of some BDSM act performed earlier tonight.

You quickly gather them, creating a makeshift cloak for you and Min-Hye to hide underneath.

“I-I’m scared!” Min-Hye interrupts your crafting, her head falling onto your shoulders as she weeps.

Without moving your lips, you pull Min-Hye's head back and gently remove the blonde wig from her head, revealing her short black hair that is matted with sweat and tears. You remember your own hair being pulled, yanked as a form of punishment or control. But that's a thought for another time.

"Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Slow and steady."

Letting go of the cover, you find her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to transfer some of your calmness to her.

She must have picked up on your trick because she slowly started to mimic your rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room as someone kicks in the door of the suite you two were in.

You hold your breath as you hear them approach your closet, feeling the vibrations of their heavy boots on the wooden floor. The knob turns slowly, and you flinch, expecting the worst.

Sweat begins to form on your brow as the door creaks open ever so slightly, revealing only darkness at first. But then, a sliver of light from the hallway enters and you see a pair of cold, impassive eyes gazing straight at you.

Your makeup smeared as you rolled out of the closet, your eyes fixed on the intruders—two men who stared back at you in surprise. You can see the shock on their faces when they take in your nude body and Min-Hye hiding behind you, her eyes wide with fear.

Adrenaline makes you swift and sure. Your hand snakes out, grabbing one of the discarded leather straps from your makeshift cloak and whipping it towards them.

The strap catches one man off-guard, wrapping around his neck and yanking him backward with a crack. He chokes, gasping for air as you twist it tighter, your fingers digging into his skin like claws.

Meanwhile, his comrade takes aim at you both, finger squeezing the trigger. But before he can fire, you dive forward and slam into him with a grunt of effort. Your shoulder crashes against his stomach just as a bullet rips through the air where your head was moments ago. You sink teeth into his neck to muffle his cry of pain until he goes limp beneath you.

The second man, dazed but still breathing, tries to bring his knife up, but you're too quick. His eyes widen as he sees your hands wrap around his neck and then narrow in anger when you squeeze. You smell the sweat on his skin as you twist, feeling his windpipe bend under your grip like a rubber band under pressure. You can hear him gurgle and wheeze for air—a pathetic sound that fills you with satisfaction. This is how it should be—every single one of these bastards deserves to suffer like this.

With a final crack of bone breaking under your hands, the man goes limp and drops to the floor with a thud.

For a moment, all is silent.

Your eyes land on Min-Hye, cowering behind the overturned table, her eyes wide with fear yet still following your every move intently.

From the moment you were unwillingly brought to this place, the youngest and the last to be ensnared, to be handled around Chinese men like a sex toy, you had taken Min-Hye under your wing, offering her the care that had been denied to you, even when she was 5 years older. And now, you would do anything to save her.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as more gunshots ring out.

Glass shatters behind you; someone else is breaking in or shooting through another windowpane. You barely register it as you kick the men away from you and push yourself up to your feet with a snarl. Your legs tremble underneath you but adrenaline carries you forward nonetheless.

You snatch up a shard of broken glass from the floor as another shot rings out—too close for comfort—and throw it with all your strength at a third assailant who had just entered through the doorway. The sharp piece hits him in the eye and he cries out before he falls to the ground.

You could hear others getting closer, their heavy boots stomping on the floorboards. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

You needed to get Min-Hye to safety, but how? The exit door was locked and there were at least two of them guarding it. The window was your only option, but it was high and covered by metal bars. And even if you managed to open it, the drop would surely break her fragile body. You didn't even know if she could climb or if the fall would kill her instantly.

A sudden thought hit you like a lightning bolt: the ventilation shaft! It led directly outside; perhaps you could squeeze through the tiny opening with Min-Hye and make a mad dash for freedom before they caught on to your plans.

Frantically, you reached for the fallen gun in one hand while dragging the unconscious men with the other, positioning them into a corner. It was a spot that was out of sight from outside yet still provided a modicum of cover while you prepared to make your bold escape.

“Damn it!” you hissed when you checked the gun, finding the chamber empty. Your heart sank as you checked the other bodies, but it was the same story.

In desperation, you ripped off one of their masks, revealing a scarred and rugged face that mirrored the cold determination in his eyes when he was conscious. You swiftly grabbed his discarded weapons belt, strapping it around your waist firmly, now armed with a knife and a baton.

"Y/N..."

"Shh, calm down. I have a plan," you reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on a chair nearby. In quick strides, you rushed to it and jammed it under the doorknob. The chair was old and rickety, its wood groaning under the strain. But it held. This makeshift barricade would buy you some precious time.

Now, it was time to get Min-Hye to safety. She was still shaking, but she didn't resist when you lifted her into your arms, her bare legs brushing against yours as you placed her on top of the table.

With trembling hands, you started to unscrew the bolts that held the grate in place. The monsters outside were cursing loudly, their threats and taunts blending into the cacophony of the chaos beyond the door. Your fingers slipped several times, smearing grease and dirt on the metal, but you were determined.

After what felt like an eternity, the last bolt came loose. You quickly pushed the grate aside, revealing a dark and narrow passageway. The shaft was barely big enough for one person to squeeze through. The air inside smelled musty, filled with the scent of dust and rusted pipes, a testament to the age of the building.

"Min-hye," you said, looking at her, making sure to hold her gaze. "I need you to trust me and crawl through here, okay? Can you do that?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. “But…what about yo-?”

“Just listen," you said, cutting her off. You pointed down the shaft. "Follow it straight, then take the second left. There'll be an opening that leads to the alleyway behind this building. Wait for me there.”

"But..."

"Just trust me, okay?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't question you further. With one last look at you, she crawled into the shaft.

You watched as she disappeared into the darkness, her silhouette fading until all you could see was the black void of the vent. You turned your attention to the pipes running along the ceiling. They were old and rusted, snaking their way across the room and disappearing into the walls. You followed their direction, guessing they led to the main water supply...which meant the main exit was in that direction.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Min-Hye called out from the shaft, her voice echoing slightly. "Why aren't you following me?"

You didn't answer her. Instead, you reached down and grabbed one of the knives from the belt you'd taken from the unconscious man. The cold metal was comforting in your hand; its weight was somehow reassuring. You tested its balance, swinging it a few times before strapping it securely to your thigh.

Then you turned back to the shaft, forcing a smile on your face. "I'll see you soon," you told her, then you closed the grate, leaving her alone in the darkness.

You moved back to your hiding spot, a small alcove behind a heavy curtain that provided somewhat of a shield from the view of the door. The fabric was thick and velvety, muffling the sounds from the other side of the room as your heart pounded in your chest.

Just as you settled into your hiding spot, the door to the room burst open.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was imposing, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He was dressed in dark clothes, the material stretching over his muscular form. He smelled oddly good, like a mixture of citrus and nicotine.

His eyes were deep-set and intense as they took in the room, searching. They were the colour of storm clouds, cold and unforgiving.

You left your hiding spot, charging at him with a primal roar. He turned just in time to see you, his eyes widening in surprise. But he was quick—quicker than you'd expected. He grabbed you mid-air and threw you to the ground, his grip like iron around your wrist.

You groaned as you hit the floor, and the wind knocked you out.

He was on you in an instant, pulling you up by your hair and pressing the cold barrel of his gun against your throat.

Unlike the others, his eyes didn't rake over your nearly exposed breasts, or the blood pooling around your inner legs from being used earlier, or the bruises marring your body. His gaze didn't possess the leering, predatory glint you'd come to associate with the men in this place. Instead, his eyes met yours and held them.

It was almost as if he was assessing you, looking beyond your physical appearance and into your core. It was as if he were asking himself if you were a morning or a night person, if you enjoyed the silence of the library or the hustle of the city. It was as if he cared more about what you preferred, pink or blue, rather than the color of your lingerie.

You didn’t close your eyes or tear up; all that you did was look back at him through your damp eyelashes, smirking.

The man arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your defiant response. But to your surprise, he eventually let go of your hair and sheathed his gun. With a swift movement, he shrugged himself out of his jacket and gently draped it over you, his hands careful not to touch your bare skin.

As he bent down and lifted you into his arms, you couldn't help but think of the ancient Greek myths you had read as a child.

Now you were Persephone, trapped in the underworld of this criminal haven, and he was Hades. But unlike the myth, there was no pomegranate seed to bind you to this hell and no mother to plead for your return. 

The only hope was your own survival instinct and the strange mercy of your captor.

Knock Knock

"Which cheese is the most dramatic?"

"Gorgonzilla."

"Correct. And which cheese is always on time?"

"Swiss, because it has holes in it, like a clock."

"Good. And which cheese suffers the most?"

"Grated cheese."

"Excellent. You may enter. Oh, and by the way, you're bleeding, noona."

Those are the first words that Jeong Ji-An utters as you stumble across the threshold of her uncle's house. Her eyes, glazed with the artificial glow from the television screen, flicker to you momentarily before returning to the unfolding nature documentary she's engrossed in.

It was something about lions in Africa; she seems to be really into wildlife documentaries these days. She always shares a few interesting facts about cheetahs that make their legs super flexible when running at high speeds and how they have spots to camouflage themselves against the tall grasses as they hunt for food.

As her routine requests, she's curled up on the worn-out couch, her small hands coated with a thin veneer of butter from the popcorn she's munching on. The rhythmic crunching of the kernels punctuates the silence of the room, the only other sound being the low hum of the narrator explaining the predator-prey dynamics in the wild.

"Hello to you too, baby.”

As you bend down to plant a soft kiss on her head, the scent of her strawberry shampoo and the cigarettes she smokes fills your nostrils, momentarily washing away the gritty stench of gunpowder and blood that clings to you.

You're not much older than Ji-An, but the bond you share with her feels deeper, stronger. She's the one precious jewel whose value is immeasurable. Maybe it's because she's the spitting image of Jeong Jin-Man, a tiny version of her uncle. Or maybe it's because she, like you, carries the weight of a world much too harsh for her tender years.

"Did you two have dinner yet?" you ask, changing the subject, trying to bring some normalcy to the situation. You glance towards the kitchen; the smell of something burning is still lingering in the air.

You can already imagine Jin-Man's reaction when he sees what happened. He'll probably grumble something about his niece not paying attention while cooking or being distracted by the TV again.

Ji-An finally tears her gaze away from the TV, her eyes lingering on the bloody wound on your ribs with an unspoken concern. "I did, but he didn’t. He was probably waiting for you.”

A sigh escapes your lips and your heart clenches with an emotion you can't quite name. It was always like this. Despite his gruff exterior and chilly demeanor, he'd always wait for you, working obsessively, neglecting his own needs until he was sure you were safe.

"And where's our workaholic now? Is he holed up in his room again?"

“Office. He's been engrossed in managing the missions with Pasin, poring over the site data ever since you left home at dawn," she replies, gesturing towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

“Is Pasin there with him now? They have been working together a lot lately.”

“No, Pasin left a while back. He mentioned that he was going to check up on Min-Hye at the safehouse first, then head to his restaurant. It's almost closing time there, actually. I should start getting ready for my Muay Thai class with him. He's been teaching me some new moves, and I don't want to be late."

"Ji-An, it's already past your bedtime. Your class can surely wait until tomorrow," you attempt to reason with her, casting a worried glance at the vintage clock hanging on the wall. Its hands were inching closer to midnight.

"But noona," she protests, her voice taking on a whiny tone too high for a 17-year-old girl. She puffs out her cheeks and bats her eyelashes, a well-practiced display of aegyo. "I've been practicing my punches and kicks all day. I'm so excited to show him the progress I've made. I just can't wait!"

You sigh, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You know when you've lost this battle. Ji-An's determination was always a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, but on one condition," you stipulate. "You must promise me you won't mention this late-night training session to Jin-Man, okay?"

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she grins widely, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth. "I promise, noona. Your secret is safe with me. Furthermore, you once again have a battlefield odor."

You chuckle, your hand reaching up to affectionately ruffle her slightly messy hair. "Alright, alright. I hear you, Ji-An. But… before you go," you add, holding up a finger to catch her attention as she's about to spring up from the couch. "I need you to do a few things for me."

She looks at you expectantly, a frown forming on her forehead. "What is it, Noona?"

"First, go put some warm clothes on. It's cold outside, and I don't want you to catch a cold. Second, remember to turn off the TV before you leave. And finally," you say, pointing at the pile of dishes in the sink, "wash the dishes. We can't have ants invading our kitchen."

She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "But noona-"

"I know, Ji. But we all have to do things we don't like. It's part of being responsible. Now, go on. I need to get cleaned up."

“Yes, mom.”

With a dramatic sigh, she nods, pushing herself off the couch to do as you instructed. You watch her go, a small smile on your face. She may be a handful at times, but she always listens to you in the end.

Turning your attention back to yourself, you head towards the bathroom.

As soon as you open the door, you take off your jacket and immediately spit out blood into the sink, wincing at the sound of it hitting the porcelain like a bullet casing echoing through an empty chamber.

There's a persistent ringing in your ears—maybe from gunshots, screams or just stress. But it doesn't matter now. You grab a bottle of painkillers from under the sink and swallow two dry, feeling them slide down your throat like tiny pebbles.

Caught in the mirror is an unflattering reflection: dark circles like bruised moons under your eyes, mascara smeared across your lids like the inky strokes of a careless painter, strands of long hair, reeking of sweat and clinging to your forehead. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, souvenirs of the hours spent digging through the earth looking for something you weren't supposed to find.

Your hand reaches for a washcloth, dipping it into the warm water as you lean against the sink for support while taking stock of your wounds. Your skin is scraped raw from crawling through unmarked graves and dodging bullets; there's a deep cut on your left thigh and shallow ones along your arms where you used them for cover. Your ribs ache where that bastard shot you, but at least it was only grazed. That bullet could have done some real damage if it had been an inch to the left. You grit your teeth against the pain and scrub away the blood with vigor.

Despite the pain and the exhausting work, nothing can change the fact that you did what needed to be done. Murthehelp is always like this—dirty, dangerous, and hazy at times—but someone has to do it. And you do it very, very well.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Jeong Ji-An pokes her head in. "Do you need anything else before I head out, noona?" She asks curiously and her face softens when she sees the bandages peeking from under your torn shirt, her mouth turning down into a worried frown.

"No," you reply with a small, weary smile. "Just admiring my handiwork."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't comment—she knows better than anyone how tough life can be sometimes. You can hear her rustling around in her room before returning with some clean clothes for you and announcing that she turned off the TV and did the dishes like a good girl.

“Great, baby."

Looking down, you see the baby blue lacy pajamas she knows you love to wear.

"It's your favorite, right, noona?" She says this, holding up the soft fabric. "And you know, Uncle Jin-Man always says you look nice in these." She adds with a teasing smile. “Maybe wearing these will make him less angry at you for coming home shot again."

You laugh at that, despite the pain it causes in your ribs. "I'll keep that in mind, Ji-An. Thanks for the tip."

With that, she gives you a quick, warm smile, her eyes twinkling with that youthful mischief, before she heads for the door. "Don't let him put you in a wheelchair. I like it when you’re able to walk, you know. It’s not as fun when you’re all bandaged up and grumpy.”

“Yah! Jeong Jin-An!” You shout, feigning anger. But the girl was already gone, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

“That brat…” You mutter under your breath, a small smile playing on your lips despite the pain.

Gently, you peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking to your sweat-drenched skin. You leave them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

With a sigh, you sink into the water, wincing slightly as it stings your fresh wounds. Yet soon, the warmth starts to seep into your muscles, loosening the knots of tension and easing the throbbing pain.

There, in the bathtub, you lower your head beneath the water, closing your eyes and holding your breath. You imagine what it would be like to be this weightless always. It's quiet and warm, and your mind is empty of anything other than the comforting lull of the water against your skin.

You think about how every inch of your body screams in agony, and how, in this moment, submerged in this warm bath, the pain is bearable. You entertain the thought of what it would be like to let go, to surrender to the quiet peace of the water.

Then, your mind wanders to the feeling of the porcelain against your skin. You recall a memory from a few weeks ago when you were sitting in a bathtub similar to this, and only then were you engaged in a deep conversation with Min Hye. Her voice was punctuated by the sound of her smoking, the bright red lipstick staining the cigarette’s filter. There, you weren't holding your breath. You were telling yourself to remember that moment, how it made you feel alive despite the danger lurking outside your door.

You think about the bruises on your knees, the deep purple and blue hues, the tenderness you feel when they brush against each other and even though they hurt, they'll fade in a few days, just like the pain from your past.

You think of how your lungs are starting to ache, and it reminds you of running through the park with your sister, rolling down a hill and picking leaves from each other's hair. You then think of the day she died, how you held her lifeless body in that same park, and how the world seemed too cruel and too big.

It was like the earth was mourning for her, groaning, opening up its foundations like an old and creaky house, revealing its rotting insides. And yet the wind, the rain and the cold weren’t the cause of the shivers that raked her body, making her hands tremble and her eyelids twitch.

A body left to rot, to return to the soil, to turn into dust. A name scratched from the books. A face lost to the turning tides of history.

You contemplate all these things and more. You ponder everything that comes with living and being alive. All the things that hurt, sting and break skin, and then all the things that are light, gentle and happy. You weigh the two in your hands; the pain and the joy are so intertwined that they're impossible to separate.

After what seems like an eternity, the water begins to turn a pale pink from the blood seeping out of your wounds. Your skin is raw and red, stinging from the hot water and the rough scrubbing. Despite the pain, you can't help but feel a little cleaner, a little less tainted by the night's events.

Slowly, you pull the plug and let the water drain, watching as the pink swirls spiral down the drain until only a few droplets remain.

You reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body and wincing as the rough fabric brushes against your tender skin. The mirror is fogged up, but you don't need to see your reflection to know the extent of your injuries.

Moving to the sink, you retrieve a first-aid kit and start to stitch up the deeper cuts. The process is tedious and painful, but you've done it countless times before. Your hands shake slightly, but the thread goes through the skin with practiced ease. Once the stitching is done, you clean the area one more time before applying a bandage over it.

Dried off and bandaged, you put on the  pajamas and head to Jin Man’s office.

The office door is slightly ajar, revealing the familiar sight of his desk cluttered with papers and screens, each displaying different angles of surveillance footage or diagrams.

A map of Seoul sprawls across the large desk, littered with notes, files and printouts from their last job. On the screen of his computer are grainy photos taken from a distance; they appear to be of two men meeting in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. One man has his back turned towards the camera while the other gestures wildly with his hands, most likely giving orders or directions.

You push the door open further and step inside, wincing at the loud squeak it makes under your weight. It needs oiling.

Jeong doesn't even seem to notice or mind; he's too absorbed in whatever he's working on. A half-empty cup of cold coffee sits on his desk, the steam long since dissipated, next to a plate with crumbs from a hastily eaten sandwich that looks like it was abandoned mid-bite.

You take a moment to appreciate how he wears his work like a second skin—it defines him, molds him into something almost apart from human—and you feel a pang of guilt for disrupting his routine like this.

His office smells metallic and antiseptic; it's always been like that since you can remember. Not unpleasant but not inviting either; it matches his personality perfectly. Outside, the world continues its mad rush of people, cars and noise. But here, there's just the hum of machinery from his computer and occasional typing noises.

"Done playing the tough guy, huh?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You walk like a cat," he replies, not missing a beat, "And after a shower, you always smell like a mix of vanilla and lavender. It's a comforting scent, but it doesn't cover the stench of danger that follows you."

His words hang in the air, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. You watch him, taking in his stern expression and the way his fingers dance over the keyboard. His words are stoic, almost passive-aggressive, but you know him well enough to see the flash of worry behind his icy demeanor.

"Could you at least look at me when you're lecturing me?" You snap, regretting the bitter edge in your voice the moment it escapes your lips.

He finally looks up, his eyes hard and unreadable. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm merely stating the facts."

Surpised, you watch as he fixes his table, clearing a space amidst the clutter. It's a spot you know well, a space you've occupied many times in the past. It's an unspoken invitation, a silent concession on his part. Despite his harsh words, he's still making room for you.

You hop onto the table, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that flares up from your ribs. He doesn't comment on it, keeping his attention fixed on his work, but you notice the slight tightening of his jaw.

Provoked by his dismissive attitude, you reach for a lighter and a lone cigarette that's been left on the edge of his cluttered desk. It's a mint flavored one, you notice, the kind Ji-An prefers and sneaks in from time to time, despite her uncle's constant disapproval.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You challenge, striking the lighter and bringing the small flame to the end of the cigarette. The pungent smell of the tobacco fills the room as you take a deep breath, the smoke curling in the air around you.

He finally takes a long sip of his coffee before turning to look at you. "No," he says finally, "it's supposed to make you think. Think about your reckless actions and the consequences. Think about the people who care about you and worry about you. You could have avoided this," he adds, his gaze dropping to your bandaged ribs, "if you had answered my calls or asked Pasin for reinforcements."

"I was handling it just fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"Do you think this is a game?" He hisses, his icy composure finally breaking. "Do you think you're invincible?"

"You're not the only one who can handle a mission, Jin-Man," you snap back, ashing the cigarette on his pristine desk. "I can take care of myself."

In a split second, he’s on his feet. He moves so fast that you barely have time to react. One moment he's sitting behind his desk, and the next he's standing in front of you, his hands on your knees, forcing your legs apart to make space for him. He steps in between them, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

Before you can utter another word, he pulls out a knife from his pocket, a switchblade with a sleek, matte black finish that glints ominously under the harsh fluorescent lights. He presses the cold, razor-sharp blade against the tender skin of your throat. His touch is light, but you know he can cut deep if he wants to.

Simultaneously, he snatches the cigarette from your hand, crushing it under his boot. The smell of burnt nicotine fills the air, mixing with the sterile scent of his office.

“Hey! I need my nicotine fix-”

“Quiet!" he hisses. “I don't know if your goal is to live only for 2 or 3 years more, but you're so reckless, and you're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

The words hang heavy in the silent room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare back at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's close—so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His jeans brush against your bare legs, and you can't help but shiver, feeling the wetness between your legs spread.

"I didn't save you from that cabaret to watch you bleed out. I didn't let you raise my niece as your daughter, only to let her see you getting home wounded. I didn't invite you into my and Ji-An’s lives just for you to get yourself killed." A thin line of blood appears where the blade grazes harder against your skin, but, no, he doesn't pull away; he's only watching as it blooms red against the pale expanse of your neck.

"You don't get to decide what I can and can't handle. I'm not the damsel in distress you saved from that grimy cabaret. I'm not your innocent niece who needs protection. I'm not your responsibility. I'm a killer, just like you."

"And what if you are? What if you're more than just a responsibility to me? I don't even know where you end and I begin." He moves his face closer to your collarbones, and his tongue darts out to taste the saltiness left behind by the blood trickling down from the cuts on your neck. It's a possessive kiss—like he wants to claim every part of you as his own.

Suddenly, you are very aware that he is a man who's been through hell and back—not just with the scars from bullets and knives but also from the way his eyes seem to hold so much pain yet desperation for something more.

"I'm tired of watching you put yourself in danger. You can't keep doing this."

For the first time in years, Jin Man sounds truly vulnerable. His gaze stays locked on yours as if waiting for an answer or maybe hoping you'll finally say something that will change his mind about caring for you. But all you can do is breathe in the scent of his cologne, which mixes with sweat.

You feel yourself slipping away from sanity, wanting him to save you from the chaos within yourself.

"I don’t need someone but myself.”

He sighs heavily.

His large hands shake as they grip your knees tightly for support as he leans against them, staring down at your groin, taking in your arousal staining the PJ shorts.

“Yeah? Can you take care of this yourself, too?”

Pulling the blade out of your throat, he carries on, pressing the blade against your skin gently, tracing it along one hipbone, then the other, as if he needs to make sure everything is okay down there. His hand brushes against the tender skin of your thighs before slipping inside your shorts to touch where you're wet from anticipation and fear mingled together.

It's intimate but also terrifying—you can't help but squirm under his touch as he traces the outline of your labia teasingly while looking straight at you with those dark eyes that have haunted your dreams for months now.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling as he starts cutting through the fabric of your shorts, and you hear the soft rip of cotton tearing apart.

The air in the room feels heavy with anticipation and tension as he caresses your mound before pushing inside. It's cold against your heated skin, making you squirm slightly under his touch.

The knife glides through your folds effortlessly, causing you to gasp in surprise when it hits something soft and sensitive inside you.

He withdraws the blade slowly, the cold metal leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. A small cut on your flesh blossoms like a tiny crimson flower, the evidence of his intrusion.

A bead of blood forms at the edge of it, growing in size until it's too heavy to cling to the blade. It drips onto the floor between your legs.

With a calculated motion, he discards the bloodied knife onto his desk, the clattering sound echoing in the charged silence of the room.

"So experienced yet so innocent. My little lamb," he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he smears his finger on the little pool of sweet nectar seeping from between your folds.

"What are you doing?"

His dick strains in his trousers, throbbing at the unsure, confused tone that layers your question. It sears through him like a midsummer heatwave—the flash of bright sunlight after the clouds of a storm have parted. Jesus, you’re too good at this; you know exactly how to get under his skin.

“Teaching you to not play with fire.”

It's clear he's not going to let you hide behind a wall of anger and defiance anymore. Each word he says seems to peel away another layer of your armor, exposing something raw and fragile underneath. Something that craves his touch, even when it hurts.

"Ouch!" You exclaim sharply as his strong hand grips your arm, yanking you around and forcing you to stand upright again. The abruptness of the movement causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your body, making you wince.

Before you have a chance to protest or push him away, you're bent forward, your chest pressing against the cool, polished wood of his desk. You try to push yourself back up, but you're stopped by a firm hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, effectively pinning you in place.

“Stay still.”

You let out a whimper, your hips instinctively shifting in response to his forceful command. Slowly, you let your body go limp, surrendering to the dominating position that Jin-Man has forced you into.

“Do you know,” the man begins, fingers trailing down your lithe back, along the length of your spine, all the way down until his fingers can tuck under the hem of the rest of your shorts, "that in the old days, rulers like this were not just used for measurement?"

You know it. But you won’t answer; you won’t give him the taste. So you shake your head and make a whining sound as your boss begins to push the fabric down over the swell of your ass.

"They were also used for discipline against wayward children.”

Your whole body shivers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Long lines of red across your thighs and ass marks to remind you not to act like such a slut…” Jeong emphasizes the words with the drag of nails against the newly-bared skin. “You’re just asking to be punished.”

Shaking your head again, you try to deny the accusation.

“Oh,” the man says, feigning surprise and removing his hand from your  backside. “You don’t? You don’t want me to spank you for your insolence today? You want me to stop?”

There’s a small thudding sound as you let your head bump into the desk a couple of times in self-punishment. When you speak, the words are straining and shaking. “N-No, Sir.”

“What was that?”

You groan in frustration. “Yah, Jeong Jin-Man, come on! Ah!”

Fingers wound tightly in your hair, Jin Man pulls your head back from the desk, baring your bruised neck. “Excuse me?”

“Sir! Sir, I’m sorry; please, I’ll be good, I–” You mumble, probably aiming for politeness, but the words come out more sulky than you likely intended.

Jeong Jin-Man ignores it in favour of getting your bloodied shorts down, pushing them over your thighs until they fall to a puddle on the floor around your ankles. Spreading the cheeks, he can see your stretched and cut pussy, can see the throb of your clit, your smaller, puckered hole also smeared with wetness from just how much you had been oozing out.

Lifting his gaze, he surveys the room meticulously. His eyes linger on the worn-out leather chair with its loose stitching, the stacks of paperwork teetering precariously on the edge of his desk, and the dimly lit ceiling lamp that casts long, sinister shadows on the wooden floor. His gaze then falls on a wooden ruler resting among a chaotic array of stationery in an open drawer.

He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around it and lifting it from its resting place. He turns it over in his hand, feeling the rough texture of the worn wood against his skin. He tests its weight, swishing it through the air and listening to the soft whooshing sound it makes.

He thinks he will only stop once your ass and the backs of your thighs are neatly lined in red, with touches of crimson and purpling spots showing through the skin where patches of bruising are going to form.

Jin Man knows your skin has always been easy to mark, flaring eagerly with scarlets, pale rose and smatterings of plum. The warm colours are quick to fade, replaced by blues and greens, mottled yellows that cover the fragile arcs of your cartilage, flesh pasted with echoes of tender, affectionate violence.

It’s so pretty, so lovely. He has always preferred charcoal and pencils when setting something on paper, but when it comes to this particular canvas, he likes to paint.

His free hand settles on your ass, squeezing it hard and leaving his large palm impression on your skin, making your lips quiver.

"One," he says, and the sting is immediate as the ruler hits your right cheek, leaving a blossom of searing pain that radiates across your body, making you gasp. "Two," he continues, and this time the ruler hits your left cheek, making you shudder violently.

The sting is fierce but not enough to distract from the strange pleasure that courses through you. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each strike.

"Three." He slaps your left side, causing a wave of heat to wash over you as he repeats it on the other side.

The room seems to echo with the sounds of his hand connecting with your flesh. This time he doesn't stop at five but hits six and seven times on both sides before pulling back to admire his handiwork.

The welts are already bright red and tender, ready for him to take more if need be. He runs a finger down each one gently, tracing their edges before trailing it lower between your legs, where he presses against your clit roughly. You moan loudly this time, needing him to continue even though it hurts so good.

“I-Is it over?”

He chuckles, the sound dark and low, resonating from the pit of his chest. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine and has you clenching your thighs together in anticipation. He lifts his finger, coated with your arousal, and presents it to your lips. "Taste," he commands.

You parted your lips obediently, taking his finger into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around it, tasting your own arousal—salty and bitter, with a hint of metallic tang from your earlier exertion. It's a taste that's uniquely yours—a taste that he's come to crave.

Once you've licked his finger clean, he pulls it away and grabs hold of the ruler again. He brandishes it in front of you, the wooden surface gleaming under the harsh lighting. Another line of pain sears across your ass cheeks, making you jerk in surprise. This time, when he pulls back, he commands, "Sit on the desk and spread your legs.”

Again, you hesitate. You can feel your fingers twitching, itching to claw at him, to show him your defiance. But you know better than to challenge him now.

Crack!

Jeong snaps the ruler against the desk and  you flinch. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

No, you think, but you're not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you say it. You scramble into action, hopping up onto the desk again, scooting backwards until your knees hook on the table’s edge when you open your legs. The sting of the cut intensifies, making you wince, but you refuse to let out a sound.

One more time, he steps between your spread thighs. “You asked if your punishment was over. Do you really think that after all your disobedient, inappropriate behavior today, those measly strikes were all you deserved?”

Shaking your head desperately, you babble, “No, sir, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Jeong Jin- Man stuts. “And now you’re lying…”

“No, please, I just want to be good, I–”  You are cut off with a hiss as your boss cracks the ruler down half-way up the center of your inner thigh.

He doesn’t lift the ruler, instead dragging it over your skin, up, up, up until he reaches the crux of your hip. You shiver, your eyes wide and your lips caught between teeth.

Glancing down at the ruler, you see the point of which is laying mere inches from your cunt before looking back up.

Jeong can tell that you’re trying to hide how hungry you are and how much you want this, want more, and need it. But you are so subtle about it; he can only tell because he knows where to look.

“You don’t need to count this time,” he says, seemingly casual. “Just do your best not to make too much noise, hmm? We don’t want Ji-An to come back home and hear you like this.”

“Yes, Sir.” Your reply is curt, but the edge in your voice is unmistakable.

Jeong doesn't seem to mind your defiance. If anything, it seems to amuse him, admiring the way the muscles in your thighs tense up as he uses the ruler to part your soft labia. He presses the wooden corner harshly against your clit.

“Fu– Mmph.” A sharp, snapping sound breaks through the air as you clap a hand over your own mouth, cutting off the curse before it can fully form itself.

The man smirks and twists the ruler, maintaining the heavy pressure.

Smack! Smack!

Puffy lips must cushion the blows, just slightly, but he is still sure that it’s sharp enough to hurt when the blows make contact with your swollen clit. The impacts sound moist, and the slick covering your skin likely makes the sting a touch more severe.

Jin-Man doesn’t give you a moment to recover between each hit, unleashing a stream of spanks in quick succession, each one causing your entire body to jump and convulse as though you had been electrocuted.

“Ngh, ngh, nghh—Mmph!” You have both of your hands covering your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut and your knees jerking inward on every impact. You try to bare your teeth at him, a growl of defiance building in your throat, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, as if you're a dog trying to show aggression to its master.

It only takes a few more smacks against your pussy before the man’s free hand has to grip your thigh and hold it still, keeping you from allowing your legs to close.

Resting for a moment, Jeong lets the flat side of the ruler lay overtop of your cunt. The already-flushed skin is now a darkened red rather than that rose-petal pink, the colour of your mouth. He is sure that it would be hot to the touch, glowing with heat from the abuse.

“Please!”

Dropping the ruler to the floor, he steps forward. Reaching down with one hand to click open the buckle of his belt, he buries the other in your hair. "Please, what?" he asks, his hand tugging on your hair, tilting your head back to expose your delicate throat. The threat of teeth grazing your skin is electrifying.

He takes his time, slowly unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding out of its loops with a soft whisper of sound. His pants drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles, revealing a hard thickness straining against the fabric of his boxers.

With a swift tug, it's freed, standing erect and proud.

Your eyes widen at the sight, heat pooling in your lower belly. The tip of his cock is flushed a dark red, throbbing with anticipation, the veins on the sides bulging and straining, ready to claim its prize.

A whimper escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily. The heat radiating off his dick is palpable, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel sliding into you, filling you to the brim.

On seeing your reaction, a predatory grin spreads across Jeong's face. He moves closer, his hand gripping your head firmly and holding you still. He positions himself at your entrance, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling your legs wider apart.

And as he thrusts into you, claiming you entirely, the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone rings in your mind again.

Only this time, you are not a helpless Persephone being whisked away to a foreign underworld. Instead, you are a willing partner in this dance of power and desolation, a queen finding her throne in the deepest depths of hell. And Jin-Man, your Hades, is not just your captor but also your savior, a dark god offering you a sanctuary built on shadows and secrets.

As the underworld of his life consumes you, you realize there are no seasons dictating your stay, no harvest goddess waiting for your return. Your fate is braided with his, and in this underworld, you are both the rulers, bound not by pomegranate seeds but by a desire as relentless and binding as the river Styx itself.

[peregrine21]

(photo from pinterest)

quick reminder for y'all to fill out the updated tag list for me please! (2 posts down, the form specifically says updated in the title) apologies for any inconveniences, there was some confusion on the original and some usernames didn't register, there is also a new character/fandom added (Larissa Weems, Wednesday).

~~to the fic :)

Elegantly off schedule - Miss Peregrine x Reader

Pairing: Alma Peregrine x Reader

Includes: fluff, gorgeous gorgeous Alma

Warnings: slight jealousy on y/n’s part? But its alr Alma helps <3

Word Count: 508

Brief Description: Mini fic of Alma being gorg and putting y/n in absolute awe with her elegance and grace and beauty before they go on a dinner date. (tiktok prompt).

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You’d already been waiting 15 minutes for Alma to come downstairs for your dinner date. It wasn’t like her to be late or take this long to even get ready for a date night. You had planned ahead anyway– something you’d picked up from Alma– so you weren't worried about missing your reservation. You just wanted to make sure she was alright and not rush her. Ever since Barron had showed up that one day, you couldn’t help but be anxious. You walked up to her room and gently knocked on the door to check on her, “Alma, darling, is everything alright? Do you need anything?” You stood there waiting for a response, and after a moment, she finally responded, “I’m alright love, I’ll be down soon!” You descended the stairs once more and sat on one of the chaises in the parlor as you waited, picking up the book you’d left on the side table earlier. Your dress splayed out on the chaise and the floor as you sat. Only a few pages in, you heard Alma’s door open and close again. You placed the book back on the table and looked up towards the staircase expectantly. As you heard her heels click rhythmically down the stairs, your heart started pounding out of your chest. You’d been together years now, but every date still felt like the first. 

Alma finally appeared at the top of the stair landing. The sight of her left you absolutely awestruck. She’d always dressed nicely for your dates but never to this caliber. She wore a floor length black dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a double slit in the front of the skirt revealing her delectable legs as she descended the staircase. Her hair was curled and pinned up in elegant perfection and her makeup done to match. You hardly processed her descending the stairs from the pure awe you were in admiring her beauty. When she made it down the staircase and approached you, your senses were filled with her perfume that you’d bought her for your last anniversary– the one she only brought out on special occasions. Between her appearance and the perfume, you were in absolute ecstasy; It made you want to scoop her in your arms bridal style and carry her back into her room. 

Your mood dropped however after a few moments passed and you could come down to your senses a bit. If she sent you over the moon this easily, imagine the other people round town and in the restaurant you were going to. Imagine the cat calls and the other people trying to steal her attention as she passes by them in all her elegance and grace. A pair of taloned hands cradled your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts, “I’m yours darling,” she whispered, smiling at you, “Only yours, no one else's. Understand?” You look into her eyes in awe once more and nod silently. She pulls you closer into a loving kiss before you both head off to dinner together.

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