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

[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.

[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

[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

[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. 

[dr1lldash]

i attempted to write angst but it ended up being like 40% me bullshitting ow lore, 40% fluff and 20% angst

venture x overwatch agent!reader 4.4k (oh my god)

You had been a member of Overwatch for only a few short weeks when you first met them. You had gotten word of a potential attack by Talon in Petra, and Winston had personally chosen you to go with the team.

“It won’t be dangerous,” he told you, “Well, it won’t be any more dangerous than usual.” You were to go with Hana, Lena, Brigitte and Lucio. You were friendly enough with each of them, meaning that the silences on the aircraft ride over weren’t too awkward.

Stepping off the aircraft, the hot air hit you full blast. It wasn’t humid, so it was manageable, but you were glad you wore as little clothing as possible. A tank top exposed your arms, and the pants you wore as part of your uniform were loose, allowing for decent air flow.

The five of you were surrounded on all sides by high, rocky cliffs, and as you looked around, you noticed a steep dropoff only meters away from your ship. You made a mental note, taking a step to your right to ease your anxiety. Tents littered the ground, long cables stretching out and disappearing into caves. You followed Brigitte past the tents, up a small staircase and into one of the caves. You were trying your best to pay attention to what was being said while still admiring the desert surrounding you, but you failed.

“What did she say?” you whisper to Lena, who was only a foot or so ahead of you.

“Talon is trying to get some artifact that the Wayfinders have been working to get, we’re gonna stop them.” She gives you a look. “Could you not hear her back here?” You shrug. “Let’s move up, then!”

The two of you walk faster to pass Hana, now standing almost directly behind Brigitte and Lucio. Brigitte turns back to look at you and flashes a smile. “Isn’t this exciting? I’ve never been here before. Or to any archeological dig, actually.” You nod back, trying to match her enthusiasm.

As you get deeper in the cave, the air cools significantly and you shiver slightly, suddenly wishing you had dressed in layers. You see a rather large monitor with a holograph globe behind it, a few members of the Society studying them and talking amongst themselves.

“Dr. Faisal?” Lucio greets the man staring at the monitor, glancing down to take notes in his notebook every few seconds. “It’s good to see you.” The doctor turns around and Lucio holds out a hand, which the doctor happily shakes.

“It’s great to meet you all,” he smiles. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but we’re happy to have you all here.” He gestures behind your group. “If you’d follow me this way, I have information more relevant on another computer.”

The five of you move apart, making a walkway and following the doctor up a rocky incline. The monitor there is very similar to the one he was taking notes at, but features small, pulsing blue dots, one a few meters away from the others. “Talon,” Hana almost growls.

“Indeed. We think they’ll be here before nightfall.”

“Why are they coming here? Do you know what they’re looking for?” Brigitte questions.

The doctor shifts nervously on his feet. “We don’t know exactly what they’re looking for, but we know where it is.” He pauses. “We just uncovered a hidden treasure chamber, just above our heads, but we haven’t yet been able to explore it. Someone should be trying to find a way in as we speak.”

“Someone?”

“A member of our team, someone all too eager to volunteer.”

“Is it possible there’s anything else Talon is interested in?”

“There is a potential excavation site that we haven’t yet been able to find a safe way into. It’s far down, and the floor above it is very unstable. We’re unsure if we’ll ever be able to explore, although I doubt Talon has the same penchant for life that we do. I’d hate for us to miss something important, but I’d hate for someone to get hurt more.”

“Can we see?”

Dr. Faisal nods. “Of course, I just ask that everyone is careful.” After the five of you nod, the doctor leads you away, down a few more sets of crumbling stairs, through a storage room and into a large, open area where the sun is able to beam directly onto you. The floor is crumbling, more than the other parts of the site, and you’re able to look down into the abyss. A cold wind blows through the cracks in the floor, and as you lean forward ever so slightly, a strong hand grips your arm, pulling you backwards. As you try to regain your footing, rock falls from where your feet had just been, widening the gap.

You turn back to look at your savior, and you’re met with a pair of beautiful brown eyes, thick eyebrows and a barbell pierced through one of them. “Thank you,” you say, blinking rapidly.

They look down at you, face a bit softer than it was a moment ago. “No problemo,” they say, flashing you a grin. One of their teeth is chipped, and you can’t help but think that it suits them really well.

“Sloan,” the doctor starts, “thank you for joining us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Sloan responds, releasing your arm and rubbing the back of their head with their hand. “I did manage to get through the wall, though!”

“Was there anything of interest?”

“Oh my God, yeah! Tons of gold, a bunch of pottery, and some things I can’t even begin to describe!” They bounce on their heels for a moment, then seem to remember where they are and calm themself down. “I asked some of the others to pack it up so I could help you.”

Before anyone can respond, a loud, metallic whirring fills the air. Talon had found you. Lucio speaks, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard. “Doctor, go help the others get the artifacts onto our ship. We’ll drive Talon off, we’ll keep the site as safe as we can. Do you need a weapon?”

Dr. Faisal waves him off. “No, I trust all of you to keep us safe.” He turns to look at Sloan. “Do you want to fight?”

“Absolutely.” Their voice is calmer than it was a few minutes ago, and as you turn to look at them again, you see a fierce look in their eyes. “You all get out of here, I’ll make sure everyone and everything is protected.” The doctor nods in understanding.

“Please, don’t get hurt.” They flash a grin at him.

“Who, me? I’ve got a lot more to see before I die.” Dr. Faisal gives them a look before patting their shoulder, turning and jogging further into the caves.

A deep laugh chills your spine as he disappears. “Are you waiting for us?” A tall, muscular man is stalking towards you, followed by several other figures in black uniforms. “How kind of you.”

The battle that follows is a blur. You’re struggling to keep up, and although you manage to knock a few Talon members to the ground, they keep getting back up. The floor further crumbles beneath your feet, but you seem to be the only one bothered by this. You have completely lost track of Sloan, but every so often you hear a loud drill beneath your feet before they fly out of the ground, distracting whoever is currently fighting you before they dig back down into the earth.

Slowly, Overwatch comes out on top. Some of Talon’s forces drag their fallen comrades off, presumably back to their ship, while the others, visibly exhausted, fight until they fall. You think the battle is almost over, and you start to relax, until you hear Sloan call out, “Watch out!”

Time moves in slow motion as you turn your head and see Doomfist cocking his fist, staring straight into your eyes. He flies through the air, and right as he’s about to hit you, a figure comes between you, blocking you from the punch. Sloan lets out a loud grunt, falling to the ground as Doomfist lets out a sound of disapproval. Looking around and finding himself alone, he rolls his eyes.

“We will be back.” He walks off at almost a leisurely pace, and a minute later, you hear that same whir of an aircraft fill the air and slowly fade.

Exhausted, you fall to the ground. “Is everyone okay?” Brigitte calls out.

Lena, Lucio, Hana and you all give out some form of affirmation. You look to your side, and see Sloan lying face-down. Only their chest seems to be moving. You reach out to touch their shoulder, shaking it gently. “Sloan?” They don’t respond.

“Sloan is hurt.” Immediately, the entire group gets their second wind. You race back to the aircraft with Hana, grabbing a stretcher and carrying it back. Brigitte helps Lucio to gently load them on, and you follow closely behind as you load back onto the aircraft. Sloan is barely moving, letting out groans of pain in random intervals, and their chest is moving more and more rapidly. The flight to the nearest Overwatch base feels like it takes forever.

Even as the medic team takes them away, you follow closely behind, tears welling up in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” The worry in Angela’s voice is clear, but you can’t get words out without sobbing.

“They’re a member of the Wayfinder society,” Brigitte explains. “They helped us fight off Talon, but they got hurt. I don’t know how badly.”

“They were helping me,” you manage to say, “Doomfist would have killed me. Are they going to be okay?” Angela does her best to reassure you, telling you that the fact that they’re still breathing is such a good sign.

“Their vitals aren’t ideal, but they haven’t lost a lot of blood. I think they broke some ribs, but I’ll have to check for internal bleeding.” She takes both of her hands in yours, looking you straight in the eyes. “I promise you, they will not die. Everything will be okay.”

You know she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but you still can’t calm yourself down. Angela releases your hands before she runs into the med bay. There’s a small window allowing you to look in, but as you glance in, you see Sloan connected to several tubes and you know if you keep watching, you’re only going to make yourself more worried. You allow Brigitte to walk you away, taking you back to your room.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks, rubbing her hand on your shoulder. “I can get some food for you, we can watch a movie -”

“I’ll be okay.” The sobs are beginning to subside. “I just need to sleep.”

“Okay.” She lets go of you. “You can call me if you need me. You know where my room is, right?” You nod. “They’re going to be okay. Angela is the best of the best, I promise.”

She exits your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You fight them as hard as you can, and as the adrenaline fades from your body, you realize how exhausted you are. You curl into a ball, clutching your pillow to your chest, and allow sleep to overcome you.

You wake up hours later to sunlight streaming in through your window. You rub remnants of tears from your eyes and stretch, wincing at the aching in all of your muscles. You sit up, swing your legs over the side of your bed, walk to your bathroom and take a long shower before changing out of the sweat-stained clothes you’ve been wearing since the day before. You’re still exhausted, but you feel a bit refreshed.

You skip breakfast, making your way to the med bay to see how Sloan is doing. You almost don’t want to enter their room. There are less tubes attached to them than there were the day before, but they still look unwell. They’re sleeping, and there’s a consistent beep on the heart monitor next to them. You watch them through the small window for a minute before deciding to enter their room.

There’s a stool underneath a desk in the corner of their room, and you pull it out to sit on it next to their bed. You fiddle with your hands in your lap, unsure of what to do or say. It’s not like they can hear you while they’re unconscious, anyway.

“Thank you for saving me.” The words are barely audible, and your voice cracks a bit as you say it. Tears start to well up in your eyes again, worrying about what could happen to them or what could have happened to them. You know you wouldn’t have been holding onto life as well as they are, that you probably wouldn’t have even made it back to the base.

“Any time.” Their voice is hoarse and it sounds like it took effort for them to get the words out. You look up at them to see a soft smile on their face, eyes smiling as they look back at you.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake.” You stand up. “I can go, I’m sure you need rest.”

“Can you stay?” These words are clearer. “I was only sleeping because I was bored. There’s nothing for me to do here.”

“There’s the TV, if you want to watch that.” You grab the remote off the desk and offer it to them. They shake their head.

“TV doesn’t interest me like people do.”

“Oh.” You set the remote back down on the desk, sitting down on the stool again. “What do you want to talk about?”

The next few hours pass by quickly. Sloan asks you questions about yourself, and you answer as best they can. Sometimes they go off on tangents about completely unrelated things, usually regarding the Petra digsite, although sometimes they talk about omnic history. You make a mental note to ask Echo to visit them.

Their stomach rumbles, interrupting your conversation. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not since breakfast.” They pout. “I asked for something sweet, but nobody would bring me anything.”

“I’ll ask Dr. Zeigler if I can give you something. She said your vitals were fine yesterday, I’m sure I can bring you a cookie or something.” They flash a grin at you, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re the best!”

You walk out of their room, stopping by Angela’s office to get permission. She double checks Sloan’s vitals on her computer, and nods in agreement. “They can have something small. A cookie, a piece of cake.” She looks up at you. “They’re recovering well. I’m glad you’re talking with them.” You fight the blush spreading on your cheeks as you walk to the canteen. You get lunch for the two of you, and a small slice of chocolate cake for Sloan.

Their face lights up as you walk back into their room. “Hey there!” You hand them the tray with the cake on it, and they’re quick to start eating. The conversation picks back up easily, and the sun shining through their window fades sooner than you would expect. They pout as you say your goodbyes, but let you go after you promise to come back the next day.

Sloan stays at the base for the next eight weeks, the two of you spending as much time together as you can every day. Angela lets you know that they broke several ribs, as well as bruising their jaw and pelvis. Their injuries could have been a lot more severe, and considering the circumstances, they should have been, but they were as okay as they could have been. She manages to convince the Wayfinder Society that they are better off recovering in a stable environment, and although they want to get back to the digsite as soon as possible, they relent, allowing themself to stay at Overwatch’s base.

About six weeks into their stay, when they’re mostly healed but the medical team still wants to keep an eye on them, they get their own room just down the hall from yours. The Society sends a bag of their belongings, and they waste no time pinning posters and maps all over the wall. Seeing them in their own clothes is a huge change from the hospital gowns you’ve grown used to seeing them in. Most of what they were wearing at this point were simple t-shirts with cargo shorts or jeans, but it suited them so well. They looked much more comfortable, too, which made you happy in a way you can’t fully describe.

One day, you were walking to their room from yours, intending to get breakfast with them in the canteen as the two of you had been doing since they got a little bit more freedom. As you’re about to knock on their door, you overhear them talking.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. You make my life so much better, I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Rosetta.” Your heart sinks. You had come to terms with your slight crush on Sloan a little while before, but you should have known that they already had a significant other. Someone as attractive and funny and passionate as Sloan wouldn’t be single, after all. You decide not to bother them, figuring that they’re on the phone with their partner, and you make your way back to your room, resigning to having snacks for breakfast.

A few minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. “[Y/N]?” Sloan’s voice calls out. “Are you there?”

You hesitate before answering. “I’m here.”

“Are we getting breakfast?”

“I’m not feeling well, sorry.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” You hear them take a step back. “Feel better soon.”

You don’t answer them, instead wrapping yourself in a blanket and looking out your window. An hour passes, and you hear footsteps pause in front of your door before disappearing in the direction of Sloan’s room. When you open your door, you find a box filled with tea bags, honey, cough drops and a book, with a note telling you it’s from Sloan, small drawings littering the paper. You take it in your room but leave it on your desk.

The next day, Winston once again asks you to go on a mission, this time in Rio de Janeiro. Lucio once again joins you, as well as Winston himself. It’s quick, you leave in the morning and you’re back in time to fall asleep in your own bed, but you’re glad to have the distraction from Sloan. You’re trying to get over your crush on them, you really are, but you can’t help but feel hurt that they didn’t mention a significant other. You’d been talking almost nonstop for two months, you almost thought they felt the same way about you.

It doesn’t help that they had taped a note on your door while you were gone. It was a simple “I hope your mission goes well!”, but it makes a lump form in your throat. You want to crumple it up, throw it away, but you can’t bring yourself to. You set it on top of the book they gifted you the day before, crawling into bed and fighting the urge to cry yourself to sleep.

You’re woken up the next morning to a soft knock on your door. “[Y/N]?” Sloan’s voice is low. “Are you awake?”

You want to stay silent, pretend you’re asleep, but you force yourself to answer. “Yeah.” It sounds colder than you meant for it to.

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh.” The enthusiasm that you usually hear in their voice is gone, and you feel your heart twist. “I guess you’re still sick. Have you drank any of the tea?”

“I don’t like tea.” A lie. Despite not talking about it before, they had gotten your favorite kind of tea.

“Oh.” There’s a moment of silence. “I’m sorry.” You hear their footsteps fade in the direction of their room once again, and you turn on your side to cry on your pillow.

It’s petty to act this way, but you need space and you can’t just ask for it. This hurts both of you, but you’re sure it’s for the best. They’ll be gone in another week or two anyway, back with Rosetta, and they’ll forget all about you. Sloan will be back to the Wayfinder Society, and you can focus on work again.

You end up crying yourself to sleep, waking up hours later to a soft knock on your door. You recognize the pattern as Sloan at this point, but they don’t say anything, they just walk away. Confused, you open your door to find a dinner tray with a bottle of water and a slice of chocolate cake. A sticky note on the tray confirms that it’s from Sloan, reading “I miss getting dinner with you. I hope you feel better soon.” There’s a scribble towards the bottom. Your guess is that they started to draw something but decided against it, which somehow hurts more.

You eat slowly, drinking the water bottle rather quickly. The cake is dry, and the frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth. You set your tray on your desk, next to the box of gifts from Sloan that’s laid forgotten for the past few days

You sigh, looking once again at the unopened bags of your favorite tea. They’re probably sleeping, but you need to try to talk to them, to apologize for how you’ve been acting. Some sort of closure will make you feel better, and you need to accept that they aren’t going to be yours. It’s not fair to cut them off like this, not to them and not to you. Determined, you exit your room, walking down the hall to Sloan’s room.

Your determination wears off as you approach their door. You put your hand up to knock, and realize you don’t know how to start the conversation. Do you tell them what you feel? Do you apologize and hope they don’t ask questions? Do you just ask them to grab a late-night snack with you? God, are they even going to be awake?

You start to lower your hand when their door opens. Sloan looks at you, a look of surprise on their face. “I didn’t expect to see you. Are you feeling better?”

Tears start to well in your eyes and you don’t fully understand why. You turn to leave, but Sloan grabs your wrist. “Did I do something? You won’t talk to me. I…” They let out a sigh. “I thought we were friends.”

You blink the tears away, turning back to face them. “I want to be friends, it’s just hard.” Sloan looks down at their hand, still holding onto your wrist.

“I know what you mean.”

“You really don’t.”

They won’t look you in the eyes. “I really like you, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Tears start to flow on your cheeks, making it harder for you to breathe. They look back up at you.

“You just want to be friends, and I ruined it. I should have kept it to myself, I’m sorry.”

You’re confused. “What do you mean?”

They cock their head at you. “Is this not about my note?”

You shake your head slightly. “What note?”

“The one inside the book.” You grimace slightly.

“I…haven’t opened it yet.”

“Wait, then what is this about?”

“What does the note say?”

Sloan lets go of your wrist, bringing their hand back to rub at the back of their head. “I, uh. I forgot.”

“I can go read it.” You turn to go, but Sloan grabs onto you once again, this time a bit tighter.

“I like you.” You turn to face them, eyes wide. “I liked you the first day we met, and I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m really glad that me getting hurt meant we could spend more time together. These past few weeks, eating and talking and just hanging out have been some of the best times in my life outside of the Wayfinder Society. I’m really sorry if I made things awkward, [Y/N], but…I like you.” They let go of your wrist. “I’ll ask Dr. Zeigler if I can go tomorrow. I wish we could have been friends.”

This time, you reach, grabbing them on the forearm. Their skin is softer than you would have thought, warm and muscular. “I really like you, Sloan.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” There’s a frown on their lips. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

You reach out to grab their chin with your other hand, pulling it softly towards you and placing a gentle kiss on their lips. Their eyes widen for a second before they close, placing their free hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to them. Your lips start to move together, the kiss deepening ever so slightly before the two of you pull apart. “I really like you, Sloan,” you repeat, your lips ghosting over theirs.

“Me too,” they whisper. “I mean, I really like you, too, [Y/N].”

“Do you have to go tomorrow?” You look up at them, admiring their features.

They shake their head. “I think my ribs hurt again. And my jaw.”

You laugh, pulling away from them just enough for the two of you to breathe. Their hand is still on your back, and you let go of their forearm, sliding your hand down to theirs instead. They lace your fingers together. You hesitate, worried of what their response will be, but you ask anyway. “Hey, Sloan?”

“Yeah?” They mumble their response, looking down at your hand in theirs.

“Who’s Rosetta?” Their eyes snap up.

“Do you want to meet her?” They don’t wait for a response, running back into their room. You hear a few things hit the floor, but before you can ask if they’re okay, they’re back in front of you, albeit out of breath. Cupped in their hands is a rock with some sort of purple crystal sticking out and googly eyes glued on the front. “Ta-da!” They flash a grin at you. “She’s so cute, right? I got worried that she was gonna get hurt when the Society sent her over. Sometimes her eyes fall off, but she’s all good!”

You feel a sense of relief, and your crush deepens just a bit. “She’s adorable,” you tell them. Their eyes are on Rosetta, cooing at her and making faces. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

[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.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun

[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.]

[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).

~~~

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.

~~~

@lexi1109 @perfectlightexpertfriend @xYourlostwifexoxo @Joshuastuff22 @theyearis2040 @darlingimlostwithout @jestercat28 @ravie-ray @queerpersonified @emsmultiverse @ann08267 @ilovewomenmen2 @aliceis-75 @princessoofolympus @atlas-reader

[wolfytae-exe]

🩵⊹₊ ⋆ first and last love | CHOI BEOMGYU

pairing: bsf!beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: drabble; fluff, my attempt at simple humour and suggestive.

wc: 1.2k

synopsis: you've had more crushes than you've properly fallen in love. why is that? because of the boy you grew up with who seemed to take up the space in your heart—designed for him only.

warnings: beomgyu's so flirty, physical affection, beomgyu has a way with his confession, kisses, neck kisses, reader so whipped over gyu :< beomgyu satoori >//< not proofread :')

a/n: hi cici!! I was 🫧 anon <3 I hope that you're looking after yourself and I hope you enjoy this! I'm so sorry this was late!

"I can feel your heart beating so fast right now, you good?" beomgyu whispers by your ear. his arms were stretched out above you, one hand lingers by your waist with a soft grip.

you shut your eyes for a second, trying to work on slowing down the pulse of your heart but how can you when the proximity between you was too close.

"can you please just get him off?" you plead softly, refusing to move in case toto will start flying away, his talons tangled in your hair.

beomgyu chuckles at your stiff frame, making tutting noises at toto so he would move onto his arm and place his feathered friend on his shoulder.

"toto, you made them nervous." he laughs but you knew it was out of endearment, and his hand's still on your waist, rubbing up and down your side, relaxing your shoulders from the gentle touches.

no matter how many times you've visited beomgyu's family, and toto, he still hasn't warmed up to you—screaming, or always going straight to the top of your head.

"a-anyway, um, what do you want to do today?" you hastily walk over to his bench window, sitting up right and still a little on edge in case his green friend flies off of his shoulder and back onto your crown.

looking out the window your eyes flicker at the way the trees dance in the wind. perhaps going outside wasn't on the agenda for today.

"you want to make out?"

"sorry what?" you were quick to catch those words. and the return of your heart palpitating in your chest has your cheeks furiously heating up from embarrassment.

"I asked if you want to make out with me." beomgyu walks into the corner of the room where toto's cage is, shuffling the cage so he wouldn't be in sight.

you weren't too sure if he was joking or if he just wanted to catch you off guard, but him asking you this question was not on your bingo card. he always had a special place in your heart. perhaps the reason why your crushes never lasted so long because beomgyu was there occupying your mind and your heart.

"earth to ___?" he calls out your name.

you shut your eyes for a long blink and when you open them you see beomgyu sitting beside you with a small pout and a raised brow.

"are you sure?" you ask. your face mirrors his expression as you turn your body towards him.

"yeah, I've been wanting to kiss you for years. I know you're not talking to anyone right now, so please just let me kiss you." he says it so nonchalantly like it wasn't the most bizarre thing to process.

your best friend—who you've loved all your life—wants to kiss you—because he's wanted to do that from who knows how long.

you scoff out a chuckle, fascinated by the way he managed to confess to you in a way you never thought or heard anyone ever confess to you before.

"I'm being serious, ___. I like you a lot, but I really want those pretty lips on mine." he leans a little closer, an estimate of ten centimetres between you as he awaits your confirmation.

"did you know that I've like you all my life, gyu?" you lean back on your hands, planting them into the cushion of the bench while you look up at the man before you with doe eyes.

"if I say yes, can I kiss you then?" he wasn't backing down.

"how do I know you didn't just fake a confession just to get me to kiss you? or for you to lure out my confession for you?" you probe, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. you know how he works, his little tricks and deception to get his way with things. but beomgyu isn't like that with you. you mean too much to him for him to do that to you, surely.

he sighs, facing the ceiling for a split second before scooting closer on the seat, the sides of your thighs touching and his hand cupping the side of your neck away from him.

"if you don't want me to kiss you just tell me to stop," he whispers lowly, and you figured his daegu dialect kicked in. "or you can kiss me back and I'd be the happiest guy in the galaxy."

you giggle at his exaggeration, but your heart starts to pick up again, your chest heaving slightly when beomgyu leans into your neck, delicately placing a kiss to your skin and another to the side of it and so forth.

your fingers find their way to tangle in his dark locks, sighing after every searing kiss, setting afire to the spot under your ear. once he heard your sweet whimper he transitions those gentle kisses to open-mouthed light sucking.

"beomgyu-" you sigh, eyes fluttering shut after he hums with his lips still latched onto your skin, the vibrations sending tingles across your body. "kiss me."

he smiles against your skin, the hold on the side of your neck a little stronger.

"that's my baby." is all you make out from his mumble before he connects his lips with yours.

it was like a dream come true, as cheesy as that is. but you never knew you'd ever be kissing your best friend, let alone asking you to kiss him.

he was gentle with it–you could feel the longing and subtle passion he had for you. a familiar hand settles back on your waist again, this time his fingers subtly slide up and under your top, his calloused finger tips skimming against your skin.

the room was silent, but the ambient noise of the wind making the trees rustle outside was a contrast to both your sighs picking up, getting heavier by the second.

"mph- gyu-" you attempt to speak between his lighter pecks, "I really hope you like me just as much. because I wasn't lying when I said I've liked you all my life."

you both pull away, foreheads resting against each other, chests heaving, lips plump and wanting more.

"I would never lie to you about that. okay perhaps I did a little." he admits.

you push his chest away from you to take a look at him properly, a hint of disgust visible on your face.

"I mean I don't like you, because I love you, ___." beomgyu was quick to explain, not wanting to let go of his hold on you.

you roll your eyes at him, playfully shoving his shoulder and feigning an angered manner. "you really made me think you were just using me to quench your thirst of kisses, beomgyu."

he laughs but wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into a hug with his face buried in your neck.

"mmh, I'm sorry. I love you, I love you. I swear I was just messing with you for a sec. I really do love you." he confesses again in between light kisses against the other side of your neck. the sensation had your head reeling.

"okay, lover boy." your chortle quickly turns into a breathy whine. "that spot right there."

beomgyu acts upon your bidding, harshly sucking onto the area then delicately licking the spot.

"you didn't say it back." you can feel him pouting against you before he repeats and sucks on a different area that has your breath hitching.

"I love you. I love you. I love you so much, gyu." you relay, eyes still shut from the overwhelming feeling of slight pain from his teeth interfering but also the adrenaline from finally confessing to your first and, most likely, last love.

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, alter or translate in any way or platform.

EEK 🫧ANON IS SMILES REVEALEDDDDD

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Okay can you do a fanfic where reader gets hurt in battle and goes into a coma for a couple months and shuri is by readers side for all of it while running wakanda as getting revenge on the person who did this to reader. Reader does eventually wake up even though the doctors don't think reader will wake up and it's just fluff from there.

If you do end up doing this fanfic, thank you! And you are one of my favorite writers! 🤍

You’ll Always Have Me

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x fem!reader

Summary: After getting hurt in battle, Y/N falls into a coma. Doctors aren’t sure when or if she’ll wake up, but Shuri refuses to lose hope. No matter how long it takes, she’ll never leave her side. Except to make sure that the person who caused this won’t get away with it.

Word Count: 4,244

Warnings: Murder | Violence

Second Person POV:

Prior to any type mission or battle, you and Shuri like to bask in each others presence right before you leave. You feel safe while you soak up every ounce of affection and time together that you can before you run head first into danger. So, that's what you were doing right now.

Sitting in the private space of your bedroom, Shuri sat crisscrossed on the bed while you sat on her lap with your legs wrapped around her. Your eyes were closed as you rested your foreheads against each others, trying to feel as close as possible in the others arms.

A few hours ago, you found out about a planned attack on the town when the enemies somehow left some clues and let information slip. You guys were working on evacuating the city, but there was still a little ways to go. So with all hands on deck, you were going to get to the city before the attack was set to happen, hoping to stop them and get everyone else out of harms way.

The loudest noise in the room changed from silence to Griots voice when he quietly gave you the five minute warning, as Shuri requested.

"You have a total of five minutes until your departure, your highness." he whispered, attempting to not disrupt the silence too much.

This was the time when you and Shuri had your "pep talk". You would tell each other how much you loved the other, and things to reassure you while sharing small, innocent kisses.

Shuri took a deep breath, inhaling your warm vanilla scent before lowly speaking up, "I love you so much, darling. When we get back home, we'll get comfy and watch a movie. Then probably fall asleep 10 minutes in, yeah?" she said with a soft chuckle, pecking your lips.

You hummed, nodding in agreement, "I love you too, Shuri." you responded and she kissed you again.

"You know I worry about you a lot, so you'll know I always have eyes on you. If you need help or think something's wrong, let me, Nakia, or Okoye know. You can even go to Aneka or Ayo. I'll have your back. You’ll always have me, my love." she told you, making sure this information was embedded into your brain.

"I know, Shuri. I'll tell you if something's wrong. But you can always tell me if you need help, you know that right?" you reassured her.

She nodded her head with a smile, "I know, angel. I will."

She kissed your lips again, but more fully this time instead of a little peck. She wanted you to feel all the love she had for you in case things went downhill. But both of you have always come back to each other in one piece, so this time wouldn't be any different, right?

When Griot informed you that the five minutes was up, you and Shuri shared one last kiss before getting up and exiting the bedroom. You stopped by her lab first to make sure that you had everything, and that you weren't forget anything you would need. When you were sure you were ready, you made your way outside and boarded the Talon Fighter.

Sitting down next to Nakia, Shuri stood standing so that she could run the plan through her mind one more time before giving everyone their roles and jobs. When the aircaft took off, Shuri started to speak.

"We're a little behind on the evacuation, so I want Nakia and Y/N to focus on getting people out, and onto the aircrafts. I'm going to have everyone else, the Dora Milaje, with me to make sure these guys aren't successful with whatever their idiotic plan was. We'll adjust and adapt the plan as needed. Questions, comments, concerns?" she spoke, looking between you and Nakia when she mentioned your names.

Everyone either shook their heads or mumbled a "no" to answer her question. With confirmation that the plan of action was understood, Shuri took a seat next to you. You leaned your head on her shoulder, and she turned hers to kiss your forehead, wrapping her arm around you to hold you for whatever time was left in the short flight.

When Griot alerted Shuri of your arrival, everyone exited the aircraft and began to take their designated places. When it was your turn to walk outside, your girlfriend stopped you.

"Promise me you'll be safe, and tell me if you need help." she said, gently grabbing your hand to turn you around and face her.

"I'll be okay, Shuri. I promise." you reassured her, moving your hand to caress her jawline with your thumb.

She sighed before giving you a small smile, "Okay, princess. I'll see you out there or when this is all over."

You nodded, leaning up to give her kiss, having to slightly stand up on your tippy toes in order to reach her lips. When you broke the kiss you hesitantly pulled away from her, not wanting to leave her arms but also wanting to go help people.

She watched you walk out and fade out of her line of vision, "Don't worry, your highness. I'll be with her the whole time." Nakia stated, next in line to leave.

"If you need anything at all, tell me and I’ll drop whatever I'm doing to get to you guys." Shuri demanded.

"You know I will."  she said, jogging to catch up with you. Shuri waited for everyone else to exit before she enabled her mask and walked out, letting the doors of the aircraft close behind her.

~~~

Your POV:

"Okay ma'am, it'll just be a few minutes and you'll be out of here in no time." I kindly said, guiding an older woman to the line to get on one of the aircraft's that are transporting people.

We still had a little bit of time before they were planned to attack, and every second counted. I was in charge of evacuating the last two floors of the building near the river, while Nakia had the smaller houses.

I quickly made my way back to the floor I was working on, continuing to guide groups of people to whatever aircraft's were available. I cleared one floor and started jogging back to my last floor when I heard the commotion of the first shots being fired. I saw smoke rising into the air that followed sounds of explosions.

Seeing this motivated me to start moving quicker, practically sprinting up the stairs to evacuate my last group of people. I reached them and led them back down the stairs, reassuring them that everything will be fine, and also answering whatever questions they had to the best of my ability while trying to keep them calm.

I made sure that everyone got on safety before pressing the button to close the door. I told Griot not to let the aircraft take off until I did one last sweep of the building, starting at the bottom floor and working up.

When I got to the top floor and was certain that the building was empty, I began making my way outside when I heard a rumble, and the floor shook under my feet. I could see the ceiling start to crack, dust falling.

I knew I had to get out right at that moment, but I was stunned when the sound of an explosion rang through my ears, followed by the heat of the blast.

The power of the explosion was so strong and close to me that it pushed me back into the already cracked window that was behind me. When my back made contact with the glass, it broke, and I fell through. I didn't fall far though because I managed to grab onto a ledge on the building, hanging on and keeping myself from falling the two stories of the tall structure.

"Y/N!" I briefly heard Nakia yell from below me, but it was hard to focus on anything except hanging on, and the pain in my back from the glass.

"Y/N, hold on I'm coming!" I heard a different voice say. The words went in one ear and out the other as I tried to get a better grip and pull myself up, but I couldn't get leverage on anything.

My whole world stopped when another explosion shook the building, and this time it came collapsing down, and I plummeted into the water below me. I tried to swim up, but I was already in pain and pieces of the building fell into the water, hitting me and pushing me down further. It wasn't until one piece of rubble hit me in the head that I passed out, continuing to sink.

~~~

Shuri's POV:

"Aneka, watch your six!" I called out, warning her of an approaching enemy.

My focus went back to the three on one fight that I was in when something caught my eye. Although it was a little far away, I knew that Y/N was in that direction since I always had eyes on her and info on locations. I saw an explosion crumble a building, and my vision focused in on the figure barely hanging onto the side of it.

"Griot, what's happening over there?" I quickly asked the A.I through my kimoyo beads.

"It seems that the building you are looking at has been damaged by an explosion, and another explosion is predicted. The person you are looking is unfortunately Miss Y/L/N." he informed me, and my instantly heart dropped.

"Y/N." I whispered to myself, completely disregarding the people I was previously fighting, and making a b-line straight for Y/N.

"Shuri, we have a problem." I heard Nakia speak through my kimoyo beads.

"I know, I'm already on my way." I quickly responded.

I was only a few yards away from reaching the bottom of the building, "Y/N, hold on I'm coming!" I yelled, but it was too late when another explosion shook the building, and she went falling into the river below her.

That river is not something you want to get stuck in. It's currents are very rough for it only being a river, and watching the rubble fall into the water after her made a wave of anxiety wash over me.

So that's why as soon as I reached the edge of the water, I jumped in after her. It was hard to see, but I managed to catch a glimpse of her hand before she sank further down. I swam towards her, learning that she was unconscious when I saw that she wasn't moving. When I reached her, I held her limp body with one arm as I used the other to swim to the surface, gasping for air when I did.

"Nakia, help me!" I shouted while disabling my mask, desperate to get Y/N out of the water.

She quickly made her way over to the edge of the river, and I swam towards her, handing Y/N off to her so that she could pull her up while I pulled myself out of the water.

While I frantically tried to pull myself up, Nakia checked on Y/N. Putting her ear close to her mouth and nose to see if she was breathing, and then confirming her results by checking the pulse in her neck.

When she put two fingers on the side of her neck, I panicked, "W-what's wrong? Is she not breathing?"

When Nakia found no pulse, she immediately started CPR. At this point, Okoye had finally caught up to me. She had followed me when she saw me sprint off in the direction that Y/N was known to be in.

I watched Nakia rhythmically press on Y/N's chest, trying to get her to breath. I started crying, attempting to take over the CPR, but Okoye just held me back knowing that I would do a sloppy job of it considering my now hysterical state.

"Y/N!" I cried out. There was no way that the love of my life was about to leave me same way my mother did. I already lost her, my dad, and my brother.

Y/N was all I had left.

Okoye struggled to contain me as I fought her grip, practically sobbing for Y/N to come back to me. And my pleads had miraculously come true when Y/N began to cough up water, gasping for air. Nakia turned her onto her side to help her get the water out of her lungs, but she wasn't conscious for long because after she was done coughing, she passed out again. But, I could still see the rise and fall of her chest which was a good sign.

"We've got to get her back to the palace." Nakia said, picking up Y/N and starting to make her way to the Talon Fighter.

"Can I carry her?" I asked, wiping the tears off my face to try and show that I was capable of it now.

"It's okay, Shuri. Nakia's got her. Let's just get her back to the palace so that the doctors there can care for her, okay?" Okoye comforted me and I nodded my head, briskly following Nakia to the aircraft.

When we were boarded, she handed Y/N off to me, letting me hold her in my arms until we got back home. Her body was so limp, and cold. I got Griot to check her vitals, and they were stable for now. The ride home was short, but it felt like days. When we landed, I carried Y/N inside and to the lab, placing her on a stretcher and demanding that our top doctors care for her now, which they did.

I was hovering over them the whole time, and I got concerned when they stopped talking aloud and staring whispering to each other.

"What?" I worriedly questioned, but they didn't answer.

"I swear if one of you doesn't tell me what is going on with my girlfriend right now, I will ensure that the light coming from the ceiling is the last light that makes itself known to your vision." I spoke sternly, and they immediately turned to face me.

One of them spoke up with a sigh, "Although her vitals are stable, due to the lack of oxygen that her body received, and the blunt force trauma to her head, she has fallen into a coma. We are not sure when or if she'll wake up." they quietly whispered the last sentence.

I scoffed in disbelief, "No." was all I could say.

"No. You're joking, right? That is the love of my life laying there, and you mean to tell me that you don't think she'll wake up?" I said, speechless. All they could do was nod their heads.

"Get out." I muttered.

"Shuri-" Okoye started, but I cut her off.

"Get out!" I raised my voice, feeling frustrated and devastated.

They listened to me, knowing that I needed time to process what was just said to me. When the lab was empty, I walked over to Y/N and picked her up to move her to an actual bed instead of the stretcher. I laid her down and pulled a chair beside the bed, sitting down. Tears started streaming down my face again and I grabbed her limp hand in mine. I held onto it tightly, bringing it up to my lips to kiss her hand.

"Baby girl, you can leave me now." I whispered to her.

"The time I've gotten to spend with you isn't enough. It'll never be enough. We're supposed to spend our entire lives together, I was ready to marry you. You can't leave before I get to put a ring on your finger." I spoke to her through my tears.

When all I got was silence in return, I broke down, sobbing into the sheets on the bed.

~~~

34 Days Later

It's been a little over a month since I saw Y/N's bright eyes looking back at me, and I've gone to sit with her every single day.

I'd read her some of her favorite books, turn on a movie she likes, or just talk to her. During the time she's been in the coma, I went over the footage that the camera in my suit recorded the day of the incident. I managed to find the identity of the person who attacked the building she was in, and I've been tracking their every move since.

I have everything I need to make sure they get what they deserve, but Y/N has always been my top priority. So, I've focused on making sure she knows that I'm still with her, even though she's just asleep.

"I stand and hold out my hand. She gives me a skeptical look, but takes it and lets me pull her to her feet." I read from her favorite book.

I went to read the next line, but hesitated for some reason, turning my head to look at her. It felt so strange reading her favorite book to her without her little comments and kisses to interrupt me. This whole situation felt like my worst nightmare came true. We knew the attack was going to happen, and she still somehow ended up in this hospital bed.

I could've saved her if I had been just a little bit faster. But since I couldn't, I was going to make sure the person who hurt her never did anything with their life ever again.

I put the book on the bedside table for later, and leaned down to kiss her forehead, "I'll be back later, pretty girl." I whispered to her before standing up and walking out of the room.

"Griot, tell Okoye and Nakia to come to my lab right now." I told the A.I.

"Right away, your highness." he responded, and a couple minutes later, Okoye and Nakia appeared in my lab.

"You requested to see us?" Okoye questioned.

"Yes, I want you and Nakia to suit up. We're going after the person who collapsed that building and hurt Y/N.

~~~

As there aircraft landed outside of a remote building, I went over the plan one last time.

"We're looking for them," I showed a picture of who we came here to find.

"If you get to them before me, let me know and just keep them restrained until I get there. I want to deal with them myself." I said.

"Yes, your highness." Nakia responded while Okoye nodded her head. We exited the aircraft and swiftly made our way inside.

Going our separate ways, I could hear the commotion of Nakia and Okoye taking out whoever they saw. I did the same, not using all of my strength on them because I was saving that for the person responsible for Y/N's coma.

"Nakia, Okoye, my part of the building is clear. They're near one of you." I spoke using my kimoyo beads after checking the last room.

"I've got them. Griot, direct Shuri to me." Okoye responded, and I followed the A.I's directions.

When I entered the room, I saw the person we were looking for tied up with what seemed to be an extension cord, and Okoye holding them still.

"Thanks, Okoye. Can you wait outside for me, please?" I asked and she stepped out of the room.

I sighed, "Do you know who I am?" I questioned.

"Yeah, you're the new queen of Wakanda." they answered.

"And do you know why I was looking for you?" I asked, stalking around the room.

"Is this because of how we ambushed your country?Listen, it wasn't my idea. I was just doing what I was told to do." they quickly tried to explain themselves, but I wasn't having any of it.

"Partially. Not only did you and your people attack my country, but it was you specifically who exploded one of our buildings." I said.

"I-" they started, but I cut them off.

"Don't try to explain yourself. You are the very reason why someone so dear, and special to me is in a coma that no one knows if she'll come out of. You hurt the love of my life, and now you have to deal with me." I spoke sternly, and close to their face.

I turned my back to walk around the room again, but I sensed motion behind me and my instincts told me to duck, so I did, barely avoiding a swing to my head.

Turning around, I realized they had somehow managed to get out of the restraints. It made me angry how they thought they could hurt Y/N and get away with it.

But now I finally had the opportunity to avenge her, and I was going to do exactly that. Striking them whenever I got the chance, and dodging their attacks as well. I kicked them in the stomach which knocked the wind out of them and caused them to hit the ground.

I let my claws show, stalking towards them and gripping the collar of their shirt, digging the nails into their side.

"I really shouldn't kill you, but it wouldn't be fair if you got to live and my darling girl didn't. I would say it's nothing personal, but it is." were the last words I spoke to them before letting go of their shirt and digging my other set of claws into their neck until they stopped struggling.

I stepped back and thought about what to do with them now. I just decided to leave them there, thinking that they didn't deserve my effort to move them.

I walked out of the room, "I'm done now. Let's head home now, I want to get back to Y/N." I said and Okoye and Nakia followed me.

~~~

When we got back to the palace, I took a quick shower and changed before going to sit with Y/N. I decided to turn on her favorite movie this time and watch it until I fell asleep.

A few hours later, my eyes were focused on the tv until her hand twitched in mine. My head snapped over to look her, seeing her eyes still closed.

"Y/N?" I whispered, but got no sound or movement in return.

"Y/N, I felt your hand move. Can you do it again for me, sweet girl?" I pleaded, standing up.

I chuckled in shock when she moved her hand again, "Oh my god. I see you, darling. I know you're trying to wake up. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Her other hand moved and she made some small noises, "Come on, princess. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours. Please?" I leaned down to stroke the back of my hand over her cheek.

A few seconds later, her eyes slightly opened, but quickly shut due to the lightning.

"Griot, dim the lights." I quickly demanded. When the light dimmed, she finally opened her eyes.

There were small tears running down my face, "There you are, my love. Hi," my words quivered from the overwhelming happiness I felt.

"Shuri?" was all she could mumble.

"Yes, darling. It's me, I've got you. You're okay." I reassured her, kissing her forehead.

Her eyes scanned the room before looking at me, "What happened to me?" she questioned and I looked down.

I sighed, "What's the last thing you remember?"

She thought for a moment before speaking, "I was making sure I evacuated all the floors. Did I get everyone out?" she asked.

I chuckled, admiring how she was worried about everyone but herself, "Yes, baby girl. You got everyone out."

She nodded her head, "So why am I here?"

"I guess when you went back up to double check, the building you were in was attacked. It exploded and collapsed, you fell into the river, unconscious. I got you out, and Nakia did CPR."

"How long have I been asleep for?" she questioned.

I thought for a moment, "34 days." I responded.

I could tell she didn't really know what to say or think about that, so I spoke up for her, "The doctors didn't think you'd wake up, but here you are. My strong princess." I said and she smiled.

"I know it's going to be a long recovery, but I'll never leave your side. You'll always have me." I comforted her.

"I'm tired." she muttered.

I lightly chucked, "I know, angel. Rest is crucial for recovery, so sleep all you want." I told her.

"Can you lay with me?" she quietly asked.

"Of course I can. You don't have to move though, I'll make use of the space there is." I climbed into bed with her and let her snuggle up to me however she wanted to.

I moved my hand under her shirt to rub her bare back, knowing that skin to skin contact comforts her.

"I love you." I whispered to her.

"I love you too, Shuri." she said before falling asleep.

Her head fell onto my shoulder, and I knew that my arm would eventually go numb, but I didn't care.

All I cared about was that my girl was okay, and now I'll have the chance to hopefully make her my wife like i've always wanted to.

[brighttears]

It's Gonna Have To Be Enough

Joel miller x reader

No physical description, gender neutral, no use of y/n

Summary: Joel gets in his head watching you sleep until you wake and bring him out. just fluff

Warnings: brief mention of bugs and light gore, pet names (honey)

Word count: 1k

A/n: Writers blocks got me in its talons :( I’m just trying to throw shit together now to get Some kind of story. Pls pray for me

–

The body lying before him, curled up on a hard, dirt ground, makes Joel’s heart burn and sink in his chest.

Powerlessness. That will always be his number one enemy. Love, his second. Because there you lay, lax in sleep, so vulnerable. Joel looks down at his hands, every knuckled scarred, blood ever ingrained under his fingernails. He is no man for you. But yet here he stands, regret, sorrow, fury, guilt, fear, and love, seeping out of him to fall on you like rain. He’d do anything–he’s done anything, and he always will, to protect you, save you. 

But he can’t.

You’re already ruined. You’re already doomed. 

Joel can almost already see fungus sprouting from your skin, those damning veins shooting out from a bloody bite mark to poison the rest of you. If you turn into a monster, is it still you inside? He’s so afraid that he’ll love you even then, even if you turned into one of them. 

Joel takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. Not yet. You’re still alive, he still has you. He wants to take you up in his arms to prove that to himself, but you’re fast asleep, so he’s alone, full of homeless longing. But god, it fills him. 

Is my heart heavy, or is it empty?

He loves you, he loves you, if he knows nothing else, he knows this. But can he do it right? Can he give you what you deserve, or whatever salvageable sliver may be left of it?

Joel’s brain is filled with maggots. Most of the people he’s met are dead. The last thing he remembers of a lot of them are their corpses, or even worse, their dead and hungry eyes focused on him. The worst of all, what their heads looked like after a shotgun. 

He can’t stop staring at you. Looking at you when you’re like this, so innocent, so relaxed, Joel can imagine another life with you, a domestic one, where you don’t have to worry about any of this. 

But then you start to cry out, and then you’re screaming and thrashing, and he can’t even wake you then, Joel is forced to wait it out until you wake up on your own. He thinks that when he goes to hell, that's what it’ll be. 

Powerlessness. 

He knelt down, folding his legs and waiting, watching you unable to escape from any of it, even in your sleep. 

And then you wake, and when you look into his eyes it’s fear first, always fear first, and then relief, and then you’re in his arms. He breathes again. 

“Did I wake you up?” You murmur into his shoulder. 

“No, I was awake.”

“Were you watching me sleep?”

He chuckles and admits, “Yes.”

“That's ok. I like to watch you sleep, too.” there’s still sleepiness in your voice. 

“You fell asleep on the ground, honey,”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Come on, let me get you up into the truck.” Joel goes to pick you up but you raise with him to your feet. It stings; he wants to hold you so his body will shield you from everything, including the dirt, because it’s cold and it’s hard, not somewhere you should be.

You pop open the tailgate, eyes still squinting against consciousness, and climb in. Joel follows and you take a minute to settle in. A mess of dirty blankets barely cushion the hard metal, but it's better than nothing. You lay on your sides, facing each other. You reach your hand out to push Joel’s hair behind his ear, not because you need to, just an excuse to brush your hand over his cheek and through his graying locks. 

He’s staring at you with those big, sad, brown puppy dog eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?

You can read him too well now for him to get away with lying–trying to protect you from even his own thoughts, but you’ve fought your way through. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Eveythin’s wrong.” he whispers, “This world… it’s rott’n. You don’t belong… in the rot.”

“Are you in the rot?”

“Yeah, I am.” to him, this is where you separate. He is the rot that you don’t belong in. But you tell him the opposite. 

“Then I belong in the rot. And you can’t tell me otherwise. I love you. I won’t ever leave you. I’m with you.” You reach out again to brush his hair back, watching your hands over his skin and hair, then back down to those big, beautiful, sad eyes. You wish you could crawl inside of him and dig all the sadness out. “Why are you so sad?”

“Because… because I can’t save you.”

“Save me from what?”

“Everythin’. Anythin’.”

“What can you do?” 

“I–I don’t know, what? What can I do?” What do you want me to do? What can I give you? Just tell me, and I’ll do it. 

“You know this one.” you tap his nose with your finger. You’ve had this conversation before and you wait for him to wade through himself and remember what you’d taught him about it.

It takes him a minute but then he remembers, “Love you. I can love you.”

“Mhm.” 

Joel moves himself closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek and touching his forehead to yours. This is what you do to ground yourselves. You use this technique frequently—for moments like these, or when you’re the one trying to take him out of his nightmares, or even in the stink of gunpowder, when you’re about to round a corner, make a run for it, or take a risky aim. 

Here you are, here am I.

“That’s all you have to do Joel.”

Joel hums, wanting to keep it to himself, but you’ll pull it out of him anyway. “It's not enough.”

“I love you Joel. Is that not enough for you?”

“No, it is, it is enough,” he raises his whisper, “‘course it’s enough.” 

“Mhmm?” you smile. 

His voice goes back to a murmur, “Ok, ok. I get it.”

“You’re already enough, stupid.” you touch your fingertip to the tip of his nose again and then kiss it. He pecks your lips. 

“Alright. Close yer eyes ‘n go to sleep now, honey.”

Joel pushes your hip and you roll over so he can spoon you. 

“You better be going to sleep, too.”

“I’m not gonna be able to keep my eyes open like this. You make me sleepy.”

It takes him a while to finally fall asleep and he uses the time to ponder your words. Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever feel like enough, but he can at least trust that you believe it. He can’t rely on his own standards when he’s doing all of this for you. If it’s enough for you just for him to love you, then he’s good enough. 

He’d found something beautiful in the ugliness of the infected world. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take it and never let go. After everything, there you are, and here he is.

[favorvn]

Coughs up my horny ask

MC bring bratty in bed. and shit bc they’re jealous:)

LOL I'll answer this because it's a Saturday night 😈. It's not FULL steam, but is Kinda steamy~ I hope everyone enjoys it! 💕 (content warnings: biting, spanking, degradation light blood, constraint) _____________________________________________________

Z looms over MC, his eyes glowing a golden purple underneath his shaggy hair. A smile adorns his face, but there is no kindness to it.

One of Z's hands holds the wrists of MC above their head tightly. He runs his other hand through his fluffy hair in an exasperated manner.

"So, what did you think you were going to accomplish with this MC?"

He licks his lips looming ever closer.

"Don't tell me you are acting out just to get more of my attention when you could have just asked."

He laughs tilting his head curiously, sharp teeth glimmering dangerously in the low light.

"Did you have fun playing your little games human? Did it make you excited to play with me?"

The fingers of his free hand trail down MC's face.

His long index nail pauses at MC's mouth pressing dangerously at MC's plump bottom lip.

MC opens their mouth licking the tip of Z's finger suggestively. MC then gives Z's finger a sharp bite. His eyes flash. Z shrinks his talon and presses his finger into MC's mouth deeper forcing MC's tongue to work around his finger desperately.

"You little fucking tease."

MC moans in response as any other words are unable to be formed with Z's finger weaving with their tongue.

Z breathes heavily. His finger pressed against MC's tongue.

"More. open wider, push harder.."

Z demands leaning in closer. He smiles seeing your messy form, saliva running down their face at this point.

"You look like a mess Y/N. Is this what you wanted? For me to make you into a hopeless mess?"

He leans in letting the pressure off his finger of MC's tongue and shifting it to press their jaw open wider.

"I'll reward you for looking so pathetic. Stick your tongue out."

Mc does as they're told and Z leans in, his slowly, tantalizingly strokes their tongue with his. Not nearly enough to relent this feeling inside of them. Mc leans forward but Z pushes ther wrists back onto the bed.

"I don't think so human. You have been a fucking brat today, so now you are going to be treated like a brat."

Z leans in again for another of the all-too-soft and tantalizing of his kisses. Mid kiss MC defiantly pushes a knee up into his crotch, as expected he is harder than stone.

In response, Z nips their lip with his sharp teeth. They can taste the copper. Z groans licking up the blood. He pulls back, small amount of red on his bottom lip, he licks it up as if it can not be wasted.

"You are so impatient..."

He gazes down at MC, his gaze burning into their flesh.

"I'm going to take my time...and unfortunately for you, I have all of eternity to make you beg for forgiveness MC."

Z starts to pull off MC's shirt. His tail moves slowly, dangerously in anticipation.

"And I promise you MC..."

Z leans down placing kisses from MC'd collarbone up to the shell of their ear. He whispers;

"Before tonight is over you are going to be in tears begging me to just let you cum."

MC tries to struggle, to still resist, to make it a little less easy for Z.

Z pulls his hand away from MC's wrists. He leans back, his hand running over MC's body tantalizingly slow. His hands pause for only half a second longer in places where MC would wish they would stay.

When Z reaches MC's thighs he grabs the underside and pushes mc's legs forward until their knees are almost to their face and their behind is off of the bed. Z holds the underside MC's knees in that position with one hand splayed amongst both.

"Clench your teeth."

He commands. Before MC is able to question it -

SMACK! Z spanks MC's ass hard pulling a cry of surprise from MC. Z then rubs the area that was spanked, alleviating the after sting.

MC starts to protest when Z brings down a heavy hand onto MC's ass once again. The sound resounds in the room. Z once again rubs the area. After a second when MC doesn't protest, Z places their legs back down, finding his way between them.

"Humans learn no other way but of physical punishment huh? So if that's how it's going to be, I can work with that."

He leans in petting MC's face with an evil grin. His voice lowers as he is only a breath away from their face.

"If you don't want to be treated like a pathetic brat, I'd recommend not acting like a pathetic brat, human."

Z leans in nipping MC's lip playfully.

"Now, where were we....?"

"Ah yes, open your mouth."

Soundlessly MC opens their mouth. Z hums in approval before resuming the tantalizingly slow kiss from before....

______________________________________

(Maybe a part 2 in the future.....this was already getting kinda long so I didn't want to write much more. And for steamy scenes, I like to ramble a little and take my time to build tension if I can💕)