#wave skin hanzo

[lloline]

HANZO SHIMADA WAVE SKIN

Since it's time for an Overwatch 2 Summer games event, i made this portrait of Hanzo (i absolutely LOVE this skin, it gives me so much summer vibe) the waves on the backround made in a special style, so that Hanzo's figure could be more contrast ad visible

[zackcollins]

360 No-Scope moment

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

©️pumpkin-pi-e | Do not copy, edit, paraphrase, plagiarize, translate, or borrow from my work. I do not give my consent for any of my works to be reposted. I only write on Tumblr. Should you find this anywhere else, please alert me because it was stolen.

For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

Do Not Interact - Writers and blogs who actively write white-coded reader inserts (blush, turn red, a flush of color). I can’t eat at your table, and I don’t want you at mine. You will be blocked. Blank blogs will also be blocked.

[spookylizpg]

Deception Lies Within (Deception!SubScorp)

>> Sorry this took awhile to make. Writing Smut can be difficult at times, but I finish it finally! This is a full on smut so 18+ only !!!

>> Doodle of them is also included <3 Enjoy

"I told you. You will no longer be stepping foot in this temple..."

Grandmaster Sub Zero prepares his stance. Turning his arms into ice among the cold flesh. His white eyes only lay on the fire demon. The air turns thin and cold. Yet it struggles against the heat wave that radiates from the sole source.

"Can't I just visit you once in a while? Truth be told, I'm getting used to you."

Scorpion disarmed his blade. Putting it behind his back, the blade slides into their respective pockets. He seems to be not putting up much of a fight. His stance is more relaxed than Sub Zero. Walking ever so closely to him. Seeing that the cryomancer is not backing down. He has his fire elements ready to hit a quick attack if needed.

"Used to me? Well, I'm not! Your presence brings me nothing but disgust." Sub Zero snarled.

"Jeez, you sure know how to hurt me. Right in the heart."

"Oh yeah?"

With that, the first strike was hit by Sub Zero. Making Scorpion jump back before he was able to be turned into ice. Hanzo's hands light up with fire. Bright and flashy as his white eyes outshines it.

"That is a warning, demon."

"Kuai-"

"Sub Zero! Grandmaster Sub Zero-"

"Fine...Sub Zero-"

Scorpion's demeanor changed once Kuai Liang dubbed him that. The two began to focus on each other intensely. The air becomes a mixture of heat and cold.

"Do we have to do this every time? Are you not tired of this?" Hanzo kept his eyes on him.

"I wouldn't be if you knew your place!" Kuai Liang stomps his foot on the ground. Causing ice to form around it.

He knew deep down this bothersome demon would not leave him be. A stain on his life. Yet, something within Kuai Liang had another opinion about Hanzo. The kind he always feared if he ever met any being from the Netherrealm.

Alluring.

Hanzo can be a bit persuasive and even downright seductive. These thoughts lockdown within the walls of his heart, around caution and trust. From what he has seen, Hanzo has no goal of hurting his clan nor wishes to start a war between realms. He seems to want to help Sub Zero as much as he can. Seeming to repay something or just finding peace with the cryomancer. What peace could that be, I wonder.

"Do you really want me gone?" Hanzo replied, "I am not here to harm you..."

He put out the fire as he reached his headgear and slowly removed it. Hanzo knows he would be vulnerable to an attack, but then he trusts Sub Zero that much to not do that. He unwrapped the wrap around his head. His soft black hair spews out. Flowing within the wind and shining on the almost lit sunlight. He proceeds to take off his mask. Revealing his sharp lower fangs. Light scars wrap around his velvety face. The battles he endures all his life toughen the skin. He drops the gear to the ground and kicks them away. He wishes this could ease Sub Zero to put his guard also.

His glance went about to Sub Zero.

Kuai Liang was still standing in his stance, but his face spoke otherwise. His eyes are softened in a sense. Instead of that fierce look he always has. It became more of an adoring look. Admiring the detail of his face. The way the hair flows down to his shoulder. How it shines and almost even illuminates. Maybe that's only Sub Zero seeing it. Until he looks at his fangs. Reassuring his mind that no matter what, Hanzo is a demon. The heart focuses on what it would feel like to be bitten with those fangs. How it would feel to press against his flesh and almost pierce it. Leaving...a Hickie... multiple hickes...all around his chilly body...

Sub Zero shook out of the thought. Fast.

"W-what are you doing!? Back away-!" Kuai Liang spiked up the ice around his arm.

"I'm not...I know you won't hurt me. I'm noticing that more. Those eyes don't lie."

This lowers Sub Zero's guard. He doesn't know what to do. He wants to be vigilant and take Hanzo down. To kick him out of his temple and never see that demon again. He also needs to have Hanzo stay with him. Something about his presence has changed Sub Zero and his clan. The old tales of his grandfather told him about his clan seem to vanish. Hanzo couldn't be one of those in the stories. He's so different even if he now lives in the Netherealm. His presence is welcoming and warm. Even Sub Zero admits his heart thaws a bit, but he won't confess that to Hanzo. With such focus on his thoughts, he didn't realize he was completely down his guard. Ice slowly fades around his arms and into the mists. The heat of another pair of hands positioned against it.

"See?" Hanzo remarked, kinda caressing his arms, "Um...You still there?"

"Yes....your hands-!" Kuai Liang jolted, "Why are they-"

"Why aren't you smacking me away? Oooh, do you like this?"

There he goes.

That little devilish smile creeps into Hanzo's face.

"I wanna see your face-"

"No, you may not!"

"Stop me then."

". . ."

Scorpion's hands reach out for his mask. Stop him, Sub Zero expressed in his mind. Why isn't he stopping him? Why couldn't he stop him? Sub Zero places his hands on his arm, but no resistance. He solely placed them on top of Hanzo's arms and did nothing. He felt his face naked. Seeing Hanzo with just a grin and his headgear in his hands.

"You're blushing like crazy! Just look at you. You're a mess-" The fire demon touches the cold Grandmaster's cheek.

This can't be happening.

Unquestionably, this is all wrong.

Right?

"You're so weird...You have been wanting to fight me over and over ever since I appeared to you on that fateful day. Now, anytime I look at you. Your eyes suggest me something else."

Scorpion went in closer. Face to face.

"Am I wrong...?" He asked.

Is he?

"I-I don't know..." Sub Zero whispered. It felt odd being cornered like this.

The once mighty Grandmaster that couldn't be matched now feels tiny.

"You don't know?" Hanzo caressed his cheek,

"What about this?"

Hanzo presses his lips against Sub Zero's. Mouthing that to let him in. Kuai Liang slowly opened his mouth. Feeling their tongue swirl around in there. Sub Zero could feel himself descending away. With every tongue motion. Every time their tongue dance together. His disciplined nature dissolves away. Embracing a filthy side of him. Hot and heavy, each of them taking a gasp for air. Hanzo's hands cupped both of Sub Zero's cheeks. Concentrating on the makeout session. To him, he felt unrestricted. Feeling his love interest press against him. What a wonderful free feeling. Even better when seeing Sub Zero becoming a spectacle. Each moment they depart for one bit, He pulls him back in. Lips intertwine once more. He's ready to see what more he could do to this revived feeling.

"Hmm....sweetheart-" Hanzo parted, putting his finger on Sub Zero's lips. "I guess I was right. I see it now. Outside."

He massaged those tender lips despite Sub Zero attempting to put them in his mouth. He wants to lick them. Even suck on them.

He really lost it.

"You have been hiding this away from me. Sad, but I'm glad it came out now. What a relief you must feel."

Hanzo's hand went down to his neck and then to his chest.

"To have your heart to be in charge. To explore such desire. I'm honored that I was picked to help you. I'm more than delighted to do so."

Then, he gently removes his upper clothing, touching both shoulders. He drags down the blue fabric that wraps around his Sub Zero. Once pulled down, he exposes his bare chest. There is a clear vision of Kuai Liang breathing heavily, his chest going outward and inward.

Placing both his hands on Sub Zero's great pecs. The Grandmaster was watching intensely. Pecking his lips.

*Squeeze*

"Hmm~ So soft and squishy~"

Hanzo's warm hands gesture in a circle. Taking his time with every grope and caressing. His ears light up as he hears Kuai Liang groan.

"Scorpion..." Sub Zero words mumble out.

"Just call me Hanzo, dear." He rubbed his nipple, "No more of these formal names..."

Hanzo laid his lips against his chest. Eyes gradually move up to see Kuai Liang's eyes. He could see him. Breathing heavily, mouth-watering. Face blooming with a pink hue. It's adorable to see a stern man break down by physical affection.

"You're so pretty..."

Hanzo planted kisses with each of his pecs. Smooshing his face to his chest. Feeling the now warm flesh around him.

"You don't know how much I wanted to do this..." He mumbled.

Hanzo's arms wrapped around Kuai Liang.

"I just can't get enough of your body. . ."

He smiled and then went down on a bite on the chest. Leaving a fresh bite mark. He kept going. Leaving marks around his chest and then kissing them right after. He couldn't contain himself as he heard Sub Zero's moaning. Feeling his cold breath on him. Snuggling between his sweaty pecs. Tugging Sub Zero close to him as much as he can. He even made the cryomancer to lose balance.

"H-hanzo!" Kuai Liang grasped onto him. Both fall down on the soft grass. "Are you okay...?"

"Hmm..."

Hanzo was still muzzled on his chest. Slowly looking up to Kuai Liang with such a red face. "I'm fine...well beyond fine."

He licks his fangs as he sits up.

"Seeing you in a new angle...it gets to me."

Sub Zero watches as Hanzo tears his clothes off. He saw his bare chest that was covered in red scars. He could see how much unbearable lust he was in. Looking down. He saw him taking off his many belts and lowering his pants. Sub Zero decided to help him with that. Hanzo smirked.

"Awwh, Thank you." Hanzo's right hand reaches down there. His other hand went to Sub Zero's pants.

"Let me help you back, sweetheart.~"

With his consent, he took off his pants. Lowering them down gently. Hanzo wants to admire all parts of him. His thighs, legs. Such a attractiveness. As he rubs his big thighs, he looks at his boxer.

Oh my.

Hanzo wasn't the only one with such an unbearable lust. He teases his cutie-pie with a nice rub on the crotch. Such a sharp gasp he heard led with a soft groan. Sub Zero covered his mouth with embarrassment.

"No...No...I want to hear you." Hanzo licked his lips. "Hear and to be inside of you.~"

He pulled down his boxer. Sub Zero's cock spring out. Poor thing is already pre-cumming. Hanzo chuckled. Jeez, this is such a thrill for him. Letting his hand play around his cock. Teasing his tip. He closed his eyes briefly, and his ears were filled with quiet moans and whines. Such a sweet melody. It's better when looking at him. Kuai Liang's face is an absolute mess. Face all sweaty. Eyes rolling back. His hands barely cover his mouth. He's practically biting his fingers with such desires.

"I want to fuck you so hard. Please. . ."

Hanzo whips out his stiff cock and presents it to his dear ice friend.

"W-Wait, Hanzo." Sub Zero muttered. "Not here...What if my warriors s-see us? I-I don't want them...to see us."

"Let them. I want them to know their leader is just a big whimpering bottom." Hanzo stroked his cock. "We're doing it here. For all to see, my love..."

"C'mere..."

Scorpion's body presses closer to Sub Zero's, grabbing his thighs and lifting his legs. He rests them on his shoulders. Feeling his thighs. This is heaven. He looked down, ready to position himself before he got too deep in his thighs. His precum will help ease the raw pounding. He doesn't want Sub Zero the first time to be painful but just bliss.

"Ready?"

"Ready..."

With that, Hanzo took a grip on his thighs and slowly entered in. He could feel Kuai Liang's stiff up. He only shoves it halfway. Hopefully, his bottom could handle the girth and size he thought. He went further in, feeling the tightness around his cock. The warmth. He is finally inside of him. Fuck, this is good. Fucking amazing. Hanzo faces to one of his thighs. Kissing it as he began to propel in and out. For now, the pace was nice and gentle. Sub Zero's muffled moaning is still being heard. Just watching Hanzo fucking him and handling his thighs. Hanzo needed his ass to get used to his cock so every time he fucks him. It goes smoothly. But damn, it was getting harder to restrain himself to fully pound with force on him. He's such a different man now from being once human. He wants to lose it. With such incredible newfound strength. Would it be bad to use it on Sub Zero? To show how much he attracts him? How much he loves him?

"You feel so good." Hanzo breathes heavily as he kisses his thigh. "F-fuck, I want you more! I need you!"

Hanzo's thrusts began picking up the pace. The grass muffled the loud clapping of Hanzo's hip hitting on Kuai Liang's ass. Sub's moaning became clear. His hand became busy rubbing pecs. The other pleasuring his dick. His body arched as his chill goes down his spine. He hasn't ever felt such overwhelming joy in his life.

"H-Hanzo. . .Hanzo! Hmmm...Hnnng.~"

"You're mine...only mine-" Hanzo took a bite on his thighs. Leaving beautiful marks on him. He's claiming what is his. Hickies left everywhere, thrusting and heavy pounding he goes on poor Kuai Liang's ass. Hanzo softly moaned and groaned at how tight it was. The more he resumes with immense force. The more tight it gets. For Kuai Liang, he felt his hot oversize cock just inside him so deep. Just go out halfway then quickly ram in, giving Sub Zero a jolt to his sweaty body. They were so immersed in each other. To the point their body temperature spiked. Hanzo's superheated body and cock fight against Kuai Liang's freezing body. It causes this steaming mist around them. This only fuels these lovebirds to take this to the max.

"I-I love you so much...your body is making me go cra...crazy." Hanzo softly moans. Only to silence it by shoving his mouth into the flesh of Sub Zero's thigh. This feeling was overstimulating to the motion of his hips slamming. Giving him all he could offer. His ears fill with the clapping and the many moans of his Kuai Liang. He could feel this was nearing the end. He retains tight to his thighs. Sub Zero was already drooling. Feeling his body with every pound and blow. His pecs follow as well. Jumping up and down to the beat. Watching Hanzo being so deep into it. He felt enjoyment. The hand that is still stroking his own cock felt it throb so much. It hurts.

"Almost there...Alm...hnnnmmm." Hanzo bites his thigh. This is too much.

"L-leave it in. I want...I want all of you!" Kuai Liang commanded. "Please, give it all to me! I b-beg...beg."

"As you wish. Anything for you. my sweet ice flower..." Hanzo licks his thighs. Tasting him until he could burst his seeds into Sub Zero.

They both worked together. To climax at the same time. Hanzo's hand rubbed on his face. Wiping the hair away. He can get a clear look at Kuai Liang. The cryomancer looks at Hanzo with pure ecstasy.

"F-fuck!" Hanzo blurted out. Shoving his body fully into his. "I'm going...to-"

"Yes....Yes! P-please! I'm ready too!" Sub Zero gasped. "Let's cum... together! I wanna cum with you...please."

Feeling Hanzo getting closer and closer. His cock shove in deepest he could. Feeling it throbbing and ready to shoot. It feels like a big load. Sub Zero yearning that is. Now at the climax. Sub Zero has its final say.

"Fuck, I-I love you so much....! There I said it! I love you, Hanzo! I want you. I want your cock every day. Make me go crazy. Please, PLEASE~!"

Closing his eyes. Ready to take it all.

He opens his eyes.

....

He saw his bedroom's ceiling. Looking around, his covers and bedsheets around him. He found himself lying on his bed. Covered in sweat.

"What...? Was it all a dream?"

He slowly got up, rubbing his head. He groaned. "It felt so real..."

He looked down and jolted a bit. The feeling of rush blood going into his face. Like it did down there. He felt his hard bludge peeking from his boxer.

"A little too real..." He sighed.

"Dammit, I'll have to care of this...myself."

<3

[chadillacboseman]

What if Hanzo Hasashi with a slightly dominant S/O? 👀

What if you killed me right here with your bare hands?!

"Keep still."

The pyromancer's hands are fidgeting, longing to touch you- to run the pads of his fingers along your skin, committing every inch of you to memory.

But, he diligently obeys. He stays still, almost rigid, watching your every move as you perch on top of him. Warmth radiates from his body, growing with every languid move of your hips over the top of his clothed erection.

Hanzo could overpower you, he knows that. He could throw you onto your back, tear your clothes from your body, and take you however he wanted.

He could make you beg.

The thought is pushed from his mind when you press your full weight to him, scooping his wrists into your grasp and pinning them above his head in one swift movement. He grunts, drinking in the way you grind down against him, your eyes glittering fiendishly in the dim light.

Heat grows in Hanzo's chest, roaring, burning like a coal fire beneath his ribs. You feel it too, feel the way his breath quickens as the heat hits its peak. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from erupting into flame as you free him from his fabric constraints.

"Easy now," you murmur, and he feels like putty in your hands, soft and malleable, ready to do whatever you ask of him. The fire abates for a moment, but returns in full force when you run your fingers along his length.

Hanzo hisses as you sink onto him, fingers desperately flexing against your grip, but not enough to break it. He bucks his hips upward and you tut at him softly, "Did I say you could move?"

"No," Hanzo grumbles through gritted teeth; fire dances in his eyes as he watches you set a slow, grueling pace. He wants to roll you over, pin you to the mattress, and-

"Hanzo," you croon and his eyes snap to you, heavy and full of flame, "Eyes on me."

That alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. You're never this commanding of him, always letting him take the lead to reach his own end.

Your eyes flutter as you near your climax, hips stuttering into an erratic rhythm that makes Hanzo furrow his brows. He's so close himself that the change in rhythm throws him off, making him lose focus.

It takes everything in his power to not grab your thighs and set the pace himself, still diligently obeying your orders.

You come undone with a whimper, falling to his chest in a sweat-soaked heap as the waves crash over you. Hanzo chuckles, a deep rumble beneath you.

"My turn?" he murmurs, and you nod weakly, face still buried in his broad chest.

Hanzo's movement is swift, grabbing hold of you in an instant and rolling you onto your back, eliciting a surprised yelp from you that is quickly swallowed up by his mouth.

He's in control again, and you know you'll pay for making him wait.

[blakeswritingimagines]

12:45 am

the room was silent, other than the sounds of soft breathing and the crickets outside. Hanzo was lying with his hand behind his head, looking at the ceiling while you were laying your head on his chest listening to his heart. after a few moments of comfortable silence, he broke it “Something new, you say?” You nodded and traced small circles on his chest with your index finger, tracing his tattoos along the way. You felt his heart rate increase ever so slightly as you pressed your ear against his chest, feeling your hair spill across his torso. You couldn’t help but smile as you realized how easy it was to elicit a physical reaction from him, even if it was just by the simple act of touching him. "Yeah. Something we’ve never done before."

He continued to stare up at the ceiling, his body responding to your touch in small, almost involuntary ways. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the sound of your voice and the feel of your touch sent electric jolts through his body. He chuckled softly, turning his head to look down at you "You've got my interest. Care to elaborate on what it is you had in mind…?" You felt something within you flutter as he looked down at you and chuckled. You could almost feel the energy crackling between you both, making the air feel thick and charged with anticipation. You couldn’t help the devilish smile that tugged at the corner of your lips as you continued tracing lines along his skin. "Well, it’s something we’ve talked about before, but we’ve never actually done it."

His eyes darkened slightly as you looked up at him, your subtle smile sending a wave of desire through him. He continued to lay still, listening to your words carefully, mentally bracing himself for what might come next. "Oh yes, I do remember that little discussion we had. You know," he paused, his voice taking on a more intense tone "You have a habit of getting my imagination going… in all sorts of ways." You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his voice. It was slightly darker, more huskier than usual. You liked it. You liked it a lot. You continued your ministrations, sliding your hand down his abs and running your fingers over his hip bone, tracing the V-line that disappeared beneath his sweatpants. "And you have a habit of getting me worked up whenever you talk like that."

He gasped slightly as your fingers traced down his hip, a shudder running through his body. He could feel the heat starting to pool in his lower abdomen, your touch causing him to lose his focus. "Does it now?" He chuckled, his voice low and rough, almost bordering on a growl "I’ll have to remember that, then" He moved suddenly, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you closer, your body now pressed against his. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he suddenly pulled you closer, your body now flush against his. You could feel his warmth and the firm muscles of his chest pressing against you from the way he was holding you, making your heart race. You looked up at him, realizing that you were now in a more vulnerable position. You bit your lip, feeling anticipation and excitement building within you. "You’re not playing fair." You teased, looking up at him with darkened eyes. He held you tightly, enjoying the feel of your soft, warm body pressed up against his. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, and he could see the darkened desire in your eyes. At your words, he chuckled again, his voice a low, almost sinister sound "I never play fair, you should know that by now, my love" He leaned in, his mouth just an inch from your ear, his breath hot against your skin "Besides, where's the fun in always playing fair?"

You could feel your breath hitch at his words and the heat of his breath against your skin. You could practically feel the tension between you two building. Your body was hyper-aware of every touch, every sound, every movement. You wanted to respond, to tease him back, but the feeling of his body pressed against you, the sound of his voice, the way he called you "my love," it was all making it difficult to formulate a coherent thought. You tried to maintain your composure, but the look on your face probably betrayed your desire for him. "You’re such a tease."

He trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "Now, let's see how well you can handle this," he murmurs, reaching over to grab a nearby toy - a large, curved anal plug. He lubes it up quickly, then positions himself between your legs, the tip of the plug pressing against your tight rear entrance. "Relax, baby," he coaxes, slowly pushing the plug inside you. "Just breathe and let it happen." The sight of the anal plug sends a fresh jolt of arousal through you, making your heart race. You watch him intently, your breath hitching as you feel the cool lube spreading across your puckered hole. "Oh, God…" you moan softly, biting your lip to stifle a cry. "Hanzo, it's so big… Will it fit?" Even as you speak, you're pushing back against the plug, trying to accommodate its size. The stretch is intense, but the feeling of being filled so completely is intoxicating. "Please," you plead, your voice desperate. "Make it fit. I need to be filled… I need to be yours, completely."

He smirks at your plea, loving the way you submit to him so willingly. "Of course you do, my sweet," he replies, his tone dripping with authority. "And you will be, every inch of you." He pushes harder, forcing the plug deeper into your ass. Each inch is a battle won, each moan a victory. "That's it," he encourages. "Take it like the good pet you are." Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the plug is fully seated, stretching you to your limits. He pauses to admire his work, marveling at how perfectly you fit around it. You gasp sharply as the plug reaches its full depth, your body trembling from the intense sensation. For a moment, You're frozen, overwhelmed by the foreign intrusion. "Ahh, it's so deep… I feel so full," you whimper, your face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure. But as the initial shock wears off, a strange, thrilling heat begins to build in your core. The plug, once a source of discomfort, becomes a catalyst for your arousal, fueling the fire that still rages within you. "More," you beg, your hips squirming restlessly. "Please, fuck me with it. Use me however you want."

A satisfied smirk spreads across his face at your eager response. "As you wish," he growls, grabbing hold of the base of the plug and giving it a firm twist, ensuring it stays securely lodged in your ass. Positioning himself between your spread thighs, he aligns his throbbing member with your slick entrance once again. With a single, powerful thrust, he sinks back into you, groaning at the sensation of your tight walls clamping down on him. "Fuck, you're amazing," he praises, beginning to move with slow, deliberate strokes. Each thrust sends vibrations rippling through your body, courtesy of the plug's constant motion. The dual sensations of having both ends filled are overwhelming, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

[othernicknameisgaslighter]

Army Dreamers pt. 5

(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

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Prev - Next Chapter

Hanzo tripped Gon, making him fall face first into the ground. "I'll break your arm," He placed his knee on Gon's back, one of his hands placed on his shoulder blade and the other tightly grasping his wrist. Everyone was frowning now. Even Killua. "I'm not kidding," Hanzo told him, reassuring everyone that he really would do it. "Now, say it. Say you give up."

Gon seemed to contemplate something, before shouting the obvious answer, "Never!"

And Hanzo broke his arm. The sound of the bone shattering and popping, reminded Y/N of her own bones breaking. She knew how much it hurt, the pain of having the bone become separated.

Y/N couldn’t bear to look and turned away, upset at the sight of her friend. She bit her lip and excused herself from the arena.

“Eh, where are you going, Y/N!?” Leorio yelled after her. She ignored him as she exited through the side door.

The blood pounded in her ears. Her heart thudded in her chest, her hands shook and her vision was disfigured. She had to get away. Something was creeping through her skin and becoming irksome, like an itch she couldn’t itch.

She felt nauseous and felt like she couldn’t breathe. What was happening? She was so confused and distraught as she collapsed near the fountain. The fountain trickled with water as she felt herself look at it in disgust, how similar blood and water looked when all she could see was red.

Why was it so hard to breathe for Y/N? Why was she shaking and crying and dizzy at the same time and why did she feel so hot yet had goosebumps crawled upon her skin? She felt horrible. Like a monster.

Her hands started to tremble, and she could see them shaking uncontrollably. The room seemed to close in around her even though she was outside, and the walls felt like they were inching closer. A wave of heat surged through her body, followed by a chilling sweat that made her skin clammy.

Was she having a heart attack?! What was happening?! She was definitely having a heart attack! Her vision blurred, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She needed to get out, to escape this suffocating space. 

She needed to leave…

_____________________________________________________

Y/N felt herself jolt awake as she felt Gon shaking her from her nightmarish sleep. “Y/N! You’re awake!”

“I am now…” Y/N sighed as she sat up. Gon handed the girl a glass of water which she gratefully drank a sip of, “Did the Exam end?”

“Yeah… it’s been an hour since it ended.”

“I didn’t pass did I?”

“No…” Gon sighed, “Someone said you had passed out near the fountain outside. What happened?”

“Just passed out.” She lied, “Nothing important… Where's everyone else?”

“Outside waiting for you.” Gon said. He, of course, explained everything to Y/N. Especially everything that happened with Killua, of course.

“Ah… I knew that Gitturakur guy was suspicious.” Y/N sighed, “How’s your arm?”

“It’s in a cast so I’m sure it’s gonna be fine soon.”

“Alright… When are we going to go after Killua?” Y/N asked her friend as he sat down next to her.

“Tomorrow.” Gon explained. “We’re gonna go find Killua and bring him back!”

Y/N smiled along with Gon. She couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. “Sounds like a plan, Gon.”

…NEXT DAY…

"Y/N!" Gon called her name. Looking over at him with blank eyes, Y/N awaited him to ask his question, “Do y’know what The Republic of Padokea is?"

"Hm? Uh, yeah. I know where it is.”

"Oh? Then do you know where Kukuroo Mountain is?" Kurapika looked away from the screen and up at Y/N.

"I don't know where it is, but I know a few things about it. I really only know one key place of The Republic of Padokea, which is Kukuroo Mountain," She told them.

Kurapika nodded and went back to the screen, explaining that it would take three days by airship to be there. Y/N rubbed her hands.  “Sorry, not much of a helper am I?” She smiled with a sort of guilt.

Gon shook his head with a smile on his face, "It's fine, you've been pretty out of it since the ceremony, so don't worry about it." 

Y/N nodded, not responding as they started making plans. Why was the taxi car so expensive? Surely the traffic to the airport wasn’t that bad, was it?

So it turns out traffic was pretty bad, making it almost impossible to go to Kukuroo Mountain today. Y/N tried to give Gon some room, since he was the one with the broken arm, but it was almost impossible without squishing Kurapika. Thankfully, she could put her violin case in her lap.

"C'mon, move it pops!" Leorio rudely screamed at the cab driver.

"Don't be so rude," Y/N told him. "He's only doing his job, you can't expect him to manipulate traffic.

Gon rubbed his chin, before coming up with an idea, "Well in that case…”

"Please not running, please not running," Y/N whispered to herself. She didn’t feel like running after a panic attack.

"We can just run there!" He exclaimed, already pushing Y/N and Kurapika out of the car. Once he was out, he began speeding down the wall that kept cars from driving into the ocean. Why did Gon have to be such an energetic kid?

"Hey Gon, do you know how far the airport is?" Leorio asked him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Sure," Gon turned to look at the three of you with his smile, "But I want to hurry and save Killua!"

“Fine.” Y/N said before picking up the pace, smiling at Gon. “Race you to the airport!”

“You’re on!” Gon yelled as he ran at a faster pace with a laugh.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N sat on the aisle seat next to Leorio, so she couldn't even stare out the window. Soon enough, they had pointed out Kukuroo Mountain, which they were just passing by. A dark cloud surrounded the summit, almost as if it didn't want anyone to see what was in it.

Once the bus had stopped at the closest village to the mountain, the group began to ask around for any and all information.

Y/N had asked a middle-aged lady, who's red hair stuck out from beneath her bandana, "Kukuroo Mountain? You'll want to take the scenic bus tour there. It runs only once a day, but you'll at least have a guide to show you around."

She thanked the lady and followed the three guys around. She didn’t like this feeling of existential dread that came from that mountain. Whatever it was… Y/N didn’t like it.

Pretty soon into the ride, Leorio ended up falling asleep as the lady continued talking about the Zoldyck family. "Mother and father, five siblings, grandparents, and great-grandfather all of whom are assassins," the lady with large hair continued on.

"Five siblings? We'll know that Killua is one," Gon began speaking. “And Illumi is another," he held out his hand, which had two fingers pointed up.

"There was the one that he stabbed,” Y/N pointed out, making him raise a finger.

Gon looked at his finger, before looking back at her with a big smile on his face, "So there are two Zoldyck kids that we haven't heard about then!’

Y/N nodded to his statement, stifling a small yawn. She hadn’t slept since the fourth phase. Closing her eyes, leaning onto the window and soon lulled asleep.

Waking up to the Zoldyck gate was more intimidating than Y/N thought it would be. Two dragons were on top of the walls, their mouths opened. There were 7 different gates, each looking bigger than the previous one. Each of them had a number carved into them, showing which gate they were.

And there was a small office box to the right of it. Y/N stood next to Kurapika, as a lady and her friends took pictures in front of it. The lady who was our tour guide continued explaining what it was.

"This is the front gate of the Zoldyck Mansion. No one who has entered has ever returned alive, which has given this gate the nickname 'The Door to Hades,” she told us, gesturing to the gate. "Beyond this is private property, so this is as far as we can legally go."

"But the mountain is all the way over there? How is this the front gate?!" Leorio asked, pointing to the giant gate that was looming overhead.

The lady nodded, "The Zoldyck family own Kukuroo Mountain, every inch of it, including all of the surrounding land."

“Man, talk about rich, right Gon?” Y/N turned and Gon nodded, his eyes not leaving ‘The Door to Hades’.

"So, you're saying this is their front yard?" Leorio asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Always knew Killua was a nepo baby." Y/N muttered.

Gon turned to the lady. "Miss Tour Guide? What're we gonna have to do to get inside?" He asked, pointing to the gates.

"Do we have to ask someone for a key or do we have to climb the wall?" Y/N added on, looking to the top of the wall, “I think climbing sounds the easiest, right?”

"Weren't either of you paying attention?" The lady tilted her head and shot you a condescending smile.

"Well, yeah, but-" Gon was swiftly interrupted by the lady.

"If you go inside, you'll never come back out," she looked close to snapping her flag pole, just out of sheer frustration. "It's an assassin's hideout," the smile came back and her whole body language was saying no.

Two guys, one tall and blond, the other short and brunette, walked behind her. "It's a total sham,” the short one was carrying a giant sword.

“A family of assassins, no one has ever seen?" The blond spoke.

"We can get a hundred million in reward money, just for snapping a picture of them," the short one said again.

‘I knew Killua was pretty, but did his face have to be worth that much?’ Y/N thought before turning pink. ‘Wait, what?!’

"Seriously?!" Leorio snapped his fingers. "I should have taken a picture of Killua!”

The two men kept talking and walked up to the office box, throwing the door open and grabbed the security guard that was on duty by his collar. "Open the gate," the blond one yelled.

The security guard looked uncomfortable, "I'm afraid I can't, the master of the house wouldn't approve of such a thing.” The guard began sweating bullets and looking this way and that.

After threatening their master, the guard gave them the key. They grabbed it and threw the old man to the ground, walking to the side gate and opening it up.

Gon and Y/N had both ran to the guard, helping him stand up and making sure he was okay. "Oh, darn. The master hates it when Mike snacks between meals," the guard shook his head disapprovingly.

“Who’s Mike?” Y/N asked curiously. Was he a servant?

A giant purple furry paw opened the door, two human skeletons in its claws. The skeletons still had the clothes on, it was the people from before. The paw dropped them on the ground and closed the door shut.

Everyone else began running to the tour bus, but Y/N, Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio stayed put. The lady called out to them, but upon learning that the group wasn't planning to leave, she started up the bus and hit the road.

"Huh, Mike is only supposed to eat at designated time,” the security guard scratched his head, where his hat had fallen off when he hit the ground.

Once Gon and Y/N had helped him up, he invited them all inside the booth. Once we explained the whole situation to him, he took it with ease and even poured us some tea.

"So, you're young master Killua's friends, are you?" Zebro asked. Y/N nodded happily with Gon as he beamed with pride. “Happy to hear it," Zebro smiled widely. "I've worked here for twenty years now, and as much as I can remember, you four are the first friends to visit. Now I probably shouldn't be telling you this, seeing that I work here, but no one ever visits here, so it gets lonely from time to time.”

He sat down in a seat nearby, beginning a small speech. “Except those types," He pointed a thumb to the trashcan where he dumped the skeletons from before, "We get plenty of those. But a family of assassins is bound to be unusual, guess that's the price they have to pay. I'm so glad you came, thank you for coming.”

“What do you mean, ‘thank you for coming’?” Y/N asked, he wasn’t going to turn them away was he?

"Oh, don't mention it," Leorio said modestly, as if he wasn't just griping about getting Killuas picture.

"However, that doesn't mean I'm going to let any of you inside," Zebro continued. He began talking about the beast Mike, and how it's supposed to kill every single intruder.

Kurapika asked a great question, "So how is it you get inside? It's unlikely they would give you a key, if not to let you inside.”

"Very perceptive. You're only around half right, you see," He reached into his pocket, "I don't need a key to get inside." 

He brought out the key from before, the one he gave the intruders. "This key is specially made for intruders. Almost all of them go for the front gate. About ninety percent, couldn't tell you why though." He then went on to explain why they installed the locked door next to it. Turns out, he wasn't a security guard. He was more like a zookeeper for Mike.

"So the front gate isn't locked?" Y/N asked, looking back at it.

"Correct," Zebro gave the girl a sly smile.

The group all watched as Leorio moved his arm around in circles, ready to attempt to open the gate. He landed both of his palms flat on it and pushed with all he had. His face slowly started to turn red from over- exertion before he gave up.

"I'm afraid you're just not strong enough,” Zebro laughed, watching as Leorio waved his wrists limply.

Leorio turned to look at Zebro and yelled, "Shut up! I was giving it everything I got!"

Zebro took off his jacket, tie, and dress shirt, leaving him in a white wife beater. "This gate is known as the 'Testing Gate’," He said, laying his palms flat on the surface. "Because anyone who's not strong enough to open it, is considered unworthy." He opened the first gate, his breath coming out wheezy.

"The door closes automatically, so you'll want to slip in while you can. Oh, and Mike won't harm you. He has strict orders not to touch anyone who comes through the Testing Gate," Zebro explained, placing his hands on his hips. "The first door weighs two tons each, each door is twice as heavy as the ones prior to it. In fact, when young master Killua returned to the estate, he opened three of them, just like that.”

"Three, that's like, twelve tons,” Gon did the mental math.

“It's sixteen tons, Gon," Kurapika corrected, his arms folded. Gon nervously laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Excuse me,” Y/N raised her hands and smiled, “Would I be able to use a weapon?”

Zebro looked at her before nodding. “I’m not sure what weapon you’d choose, but go on ahead, young lady.” 

Y/N smiled and stood in front of it. She let out a shaky breath before opening her violin case and placing her violin on her shoulder. Y/N’s fingers rested lightly on the violin’s neck, and as the bow touched the strings, the first haunting notes of the melody rang out. 

The opening was delicate, almost fragile, like the twinkling of snowflakes falling gently from the sky. Her bow flew across the strings with lightning speed, her fingers a blur as they pressed and released in perfect sync with the rapid-fire notes.

Slowly, the door grinded on the dirt as the first door started to open. Y/N sucked in a breath before continuing to play louder and louder, her eyes going a milky white once again.

The music swelled, growing more intense, as Y/N transitioned into the faster sections of the piece.  Her violin seemed to sing, not just playing the notes, but expressing something deeper- anger, excitement, and a little bit of sadness.

“Impressive. Opening the two doors easily.” Zebro commented as Y/N snapped out of her trance.

“Easily isn’t something I’d use…” Y/N sighed as she set down her violin into it’s case, “Is it okay if I go on ahead?” She turned to Zebro. Who eventually nods. She smiled and looked back at Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika.

“Go get Killua!” Gon smiled, “We’ll meet you there, Y/N!”

Y/N nodded before pushing the gates open again and slipping through it. She felt a strange aura coming from… The trees? She looked up to see an amazingly enormous creature towering over her. A sense of fear and shock ripples through her as she ignored it.

‘That must be Mike…’ She thought, ‘He won’t attack me if I go through the testing gate… Remember that, Y/N…’

Still, it’s eyes. They’re soulless and machinelike… Nothing organic at all. Y/N frowned as she continued to travel throughout the forest. In search of the Zoldyck Mansion.

In search of Killua.

_____________________________________________________

“Ah… look at this girl…” Kikyo muttered under her breath (Honestly Kikyo reminds me of those Tiktok mom POVS that are like, “Teaching my son how to cook bc his girlfriend won’t for him” or smth like that.) “Milluki!” Kikyo yelled.

“Yes, Mama?” Milluki asked quickly. He was at his mothers beck and call. It was honestly kind of annoying.

“Tell Kil a little friend of his has visited.” Kikyo giggled and rambled to herself as she continued to watch Y/N jump through the forest quickly, “Oh… Such a strong girl...”

Killua was chained up in a torture room as the door suddenly opened, revealing Milluki. “You know, mother told me you had a friend here.”

Killua looked up. ‘Gon?!’

“Looks like your little girlfriends strong, Kil. Two testing gates.” Milluki sneered, “Just wait until Mother puts her head on a stick and all your other friends..”

Killua looked up, actually surprised. Y/N? She was able to open two testing gates? Killua frowned. Why would Y/N be after him? Why would Gon be here?

“Are you even listening to me?!” Milluki yelled as he held a whip and lashed onto his other brother's scarred upper body.

Killua didn’t even wanna look up. He was conflicted on how he felt about Y/N. Why was she here? She just disappeared and now she’s here? What about Gon? He didn't deserve to be his friend after what he did to her.

Milluki smiled, “Powerful, and guess what I found. She’s a L/N. Sound familiar?” Killua didn’t answer and Milluki cracked his whip onto Killua’s face. “She’s from a powerful family. A corrupt company working with the Mafia… She’ll sell good when we bring her in for a bounty.”

Killua knew Milluki was trying to rile him up to get a reaction. He wasn't planning on giving his pig of a brother the satisfaction but something protective flared in his body. Something possessive. “Don’t touch her.” Killua spat, “Touch her… And I’ll kill you.”

(Tell me if I made any mistakes on Y/N or described anything about her in the comments please!)

[alexiela73]

Can i have headcannons for mccree, hanzo, and blackwatch genji reacting to their trans (boy) kind getting bullied (in like a stalking ish way) and what they would do ? (Srry jcncn ik thats rly specific ive had a uh bad week if ya get me 😅)

If someone is stalking you, I am between call the police or go Rapunzel on his ass with a frying pan and see what he thinks then.

Also, was gonna post tomorrow but decided I couldn't wait.

McCree:

Something started to bother you a few weeks ago

No matter how many times he asked you about it, you'd brush it off and say it was nothing or that he was imagining it

Except, he knew he wasn't. Jesse KNEW you, possibly too well

There was something off. You weren't as...happy, anymore. You seemed to look over your shoulder more often, and you didn't look excited about going to work anymore

Jesse would hold you at night and could feel you were still awake, hours after having said goodnight, and once even felt your tears on his shirt

One day, Jesse brought you lunch at work. He hadn't even made it into the store fully yet when he spotted you, and you looked so uncomfortable

Standing maybe barely a foot from you was a taller man leaning on the counter, almost looming over you. Jesse could see he was talking to you, and there was a twisted smile on his face as whatever he was saying

When you moved away, he just got right back up in your space and Jesse could see the tears shimmering in your eyes from there

Beyond pissed, Jesse put on the most easy going smile, walked over and slammed down his metal hand on the counter. "Hey darlin'," he said, giving you a wink. "How's my boy doing today?"

Startled to see your boyfriend, you immediately stepped back again from what Jesse now saw was your coworker. The coworker looked just as surprised, immediately followed by disgust

"She's your girlfriend, huh?" he asked, looking down at you.

"He is my boyfriend," Jesse emphasized, gritting his teeth. "And ya, I'mma pretty lucky fella to have y/n. He's an incredible guy. Who're you, by the way?" he asked, pulling out one of his cigars and lighting it in the store.

You started to open your mouth to stop him, but he waved you off, taking your hand and pulling you from behind the counter to nestle against his side. Perhaps it was a little inappropriate, but you knew Jesse was just protecting you.

The guy clearly wasn't getting the hint. "She's obviously a girl, man. I don't know how she has you fooled, but I can see her tits through that shirt-"

"Who on earth is Joe hiring these days?" Jesse asked you. "Must be desperate to be pullin' chumps like this one in."

"The fuck did you say to me?" the guy started, moving in from behind the counter.

The worker had no time to react, as Jesse grabbed the man and suddenly flipped him on his back beside the register. The man started to yell, but Jesse had taken a long drag of his cigar- and now shoved it into the guys gaping maw, cowing his mouth with his bionic hand.

The guy started to scream, muffled by Jesse and you immediately grabbed Jesse's arm.

"Jesse," you whispered frantically. "Stop it, please. This guy isn't worth it-"

"No," he agreed, "but you are. Now, look here," he drawled, leaning down so his face was near the mans. "You ever get in his space again, ever shit on him again like that or if I ever, ever see him shed another tear because of your sorry ass, I'll cut your tongue out and shove it up that ass of yours. Got it? And trust me, kid- jail couldn't stop me."

When he let go, the guy rolled over and choked out the cigar, ashes and drops of blood.

"Did you have to be that rough?" you whispered, but pressed your face into his neck, pressing a kiss to his skin gently.

"Darlin'-" Jesse shook his head and led you out for your break.

Hanzo

You told Hanzo that you had been receiving some distressing emails as of late

You volunteered with a few different organizations, and you hadn't had any issues with anyone regarding you being trans, but clearly someone was bothered by it

It wouldn't have concerned you, but other then vague threats and rather nasty messages, there were some pictures sent to you as well

Some included you walking down the road on your day off, others were of you at work- you could see whoever is was had taken pictures of you at your main work and one of your volunteer groups.

Hanzo was understandably upset by this

"So someone is following you around and threatening you?" he had said, his lips pulled tight. "I see. Why don't you take one of the dragons with you to your groups- preferably Ramen. Udon is far too nosey," he said dismissively.

"I...no, that's okay. If I react to it, then this guy will get the satisfaction of knowing he's got me all bothered," you said, rubbing your chin before scritching Udons cheeks as he rolled onto your lap.

"It is bothering you, and if nothing else, its bothering me. If these aren't empty words, then I'd never forgive myself for doing nothing," he'd said.

Over the next few days, Ramen would go with you everywhere, usually in your bag. On the fifth day, Hanzo walked over to your main office at so-and-so company, pushing a man in front of him.

You recognized the man as a volunteer at the shelter. The noodles were on either side of them, hissing and snapping at the man like angry cats and batting at his legs.

"This is the man that has been stalking you and spewing those vile things about your manhood," Hanzo said, holding a camera- it looked expensive too.

He crushed it in his hand as if it were made of paper, causing the man to sputter angrily, before dropping it and immediately the two dragons pounced and started burning and batting it around.

"Really? Why? You seemed so nice-" you started to say, but the man spat at your feet.

"God made you a woman and you think you can change his will?" he snarled, making Hanzo roll his eyes.

A sharp shake made the man hiss, and you had no idea what bound his hands behind his back. "You will speak when I say you can, pathetic fool," Hanzo growled. "We'll be going to the police with this and getting a restraining order. I've had enough of this whelp and his presence."

Sighing, you knew Hanzo was right. Letting the man go would likely just cause further problems down the road.

"Okay. Just let me send an email saying I'm done early for the day," you said, before leaning over and to the mans disgust, you pecked Hanzo on the lips. "Thanks, baby."

Hanzo reached up, cupping your chin and swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. "Always," he said softly.

Blackwatch Genji

The person who started bullying you was one of the recruits

Sadly, it was someone you actually worked really well with, until he saw you changing in the mens room and saw your binder

Since then, it has been snarky comments, circulating whispers and some of the people who you did your workouts with stopped talking to you

It even turned to school based bullying- shoulder checks, getting tripped, your clothes getting stolen

This went on for a total of two weeks, because thats exactly how long your boyfriend was away on a mission

No one knew that you two were dating- Genji was cold to most, very distant, and was usually considered harsh. Plus, he was often in charge of the recruits work outs and training regimes, so it seemed like a bad idea to let people know the two of you were intimate

You had no idea that Genji was home that day, back at base. He'd decided to come and visit the recuits- he watched as McCree put you all through the works, not fully paying attention as he was looking at some cowboy magazine

Genji saw the moment you were tripped while doing the 20 km run- he saw exactly who did it and the way some of them snickered. Part of him wanted to come help you up, but he refrained

He asked McCree if he'd noticed any shift in behavior amongst the ranks, and to his surprise, McCree put down the magazine and looked much more serious

"I have. Some of the guys found out about y/n being trans and I guess it didn't sit well with them. Almost everyone at camp knows now, and he often sits alone. I tried talkin' to the brats, but they won't take me seriously and Reyes is still away," he grunts, rubbing his chin. Genji didn't often see him bothered like this.

The rage he felt was unexplainable.

You didn't see him, but you were able to get out of the locker room before the other guys were done with their routine. It was a bad day overall, and you needed to get to the mess hall to start dinner, as it was your turn tonight.

When the men were showering and changing, Genji slipped in and locked the door

The men were shocked- Genji had never entered the mens change room. He often referred to the idea being akin to changing with a herd of sloppy pigs.

The look in his eyes though- they'd only seen it on missions. It was bloodthirsty

"McCree tells me you all have an issue with y/n," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

One of the guys, the one who'd started the whole thing, had the audacity to laugh. "Y/n is actually a woman," he said. "Pretending to be a guy. Can you believe it? I can't believe they let her change in here with us. You wouldn't believe what its been like-"

Genji grabbed him by the throat, slamming him into a locker so hard the frame bent, and snatched the mans tongue. He started choking, and some of the guys backed further away, too scared to interfere.

Genji's reputation as to what happened to those who angered him was well known.

"You filthy bastard," Genji said, tilting his head, eyes glinting crimson. "It's like you want to die, don't you? I should cut out your tongue- it'd be easy," he said.

So quickly did the hand on the guys throat become his elbow pressing down on his airway, and something sharp pricked against the mans tongue, drawing blood.

"Should I? Cut out your tongue?"Genji asked, tilting his head.

There was silence, the recruit struggling to breathe. The minutes stretched, before finally Genji let go.

The man slid to the ground, gasping hard, a drip of blood on his chin.

When he looked at them all, Genji lifted his blade and slowly ran his finger down it. "The next time one of you touches him. Looks at him. So much as thinks about him like that again...I will kill you. I'll kill all of you and I won't hesitate...and no one will stop me," he said.

When he left, Genji went straight to you. He had no doubt everyone believed him.

When he found you, Genji embraced you and kissed the top of your head. "I love you," he had said low in your ear. "As you are."

Not knowing what he meant, you just hugged him tighter, sighing softly. "I love you too, Genji. Please don't leave again without me."

[hey-michael-young-history]

Hotline Bling: Another Excerpt

Johnny and Hanzo got into an argument and learn something new.

“Calm yourself.” Hanzo was next to him now, subjecting him to the intensity of his brown eyes. “Regain control of your pheromones. You will disturb Kuai Liang.”

Johnny scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He's out like a light. I can't believe you don't know how hard he sleeps after he cums. Or maybe you just never noticed.”

Hanzo growled and grabbed his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. His pheromones slipped out, focused and seething. Towards Johnny.

Whoa, is he targeting his pheromones just to me? He felt like a kid about to get scolded. Oh well. Any attention is good attention.

He smirked at his own internal sarcasm, which did not help his present situation.

“You take nothing seriously, not even a matter as grave as my Omega. Your insolence will not be tolerated, even if I have to punish you like the child that you are.”

“Oh yeah, spank me, Daddy,” Johnny growled back, rolling his eyes.

Hanzo scowled but something on Johnny caught his attention, leaving him speechless.

Johnny looked down And almost jumped out of his skin. He was fucking hard, fully erect and leaking. Come on, little Johnny, don't do this now!

“You… what is this?” Hanzo snapped.

“Okay… uh… look, hold on, hold on, okay hold on,” Johnny stammered, backing up. “There's a lot going on.”

“You… want me to spank you…?”

“No, geez, ah– maybe? No, no. Look.” Johnny held his hands up. “I've got shit of my own to work out, okay? Shit that I thought was tucked away in the vault.”

“Vault? I have no idea what nonsense you are spewing. You are an unstable Alpha.”

“Back the fuck up,” Johnny growled. “I'm a lot of things, but I don't deserve to be called that. What's your issue with me? You think I’m a clown? You don't think I notice you challenging me every fucking time I see you? What, you think I'm a sucker just because I didn't go to hell and become a bitter fuck when my wife died?”

Hanzo started to speak, but Johnny continued, “You think anyone who doesn't react with to any slight inconvenience with insurmountable rage is a fucking pussy. You think I'm living in a fantasy world but look buddy, I'm living in the real world where there's consequences for my fuck ups. Not everybody reacts to everything with their fists. Not every situation needs a total disaster response. Everyone isn't an asshole like you, Dad!”

He hadn't even realized what he said until Hanzo’s expression shifted from annoyed to stunned. Johnny scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

Alright, I just unloaded some pent up daddy issues on a guy who breathes fire. This is punishment. I deserve this. No running, Johnny Boy. Cages don't run.

Johnny cleared his throat, turned on his heel and promptly walked out of the room, leaving Hanzo even more confused.

[kittflame]

Old Wounds

Training had been cancelled weeks ago. There had been some ‘important’ meeting planned out that required Grandmaster Hasashi’s time. After yet another scare of the world ending, it was quickly rescheduled. Since the event passed, Hanzo had used every chance to occupy any training space available. He’d been at it for hours, pushing his limits tirelessly. Sweat was beading across his skin, and his hair became more dishevelled with each action. He’d not stopped longer than to replace broken equipment and weapons. Rage had burrowed its way back into the man. It was the cause of the outburst of energy. The only indication of restraint was the lack of flames.

Quan Chi was dead, and Shinnok was taken care of once more as well. It had done nothing but make anger boil inside of Hanzo. The pyromancer had gotten endless shit for killing Quan Chi, most notably from General Blade. She had tried to be reasonable with him before, and he’d broken her trust. She’d gotten personal in her scolding. Seeing as she almost lost her family as well, it had been warranted. However, that did not stop Hanzo from seething on his way out of the Special Forces base. He knew what he’d done, but he found it hard to regret on principle. Given another chance, he would’ve decapitated the man sooner.

Some guilt had come from disarming and restraining Kenshi; furthermore, he ignored his pleas. It hurt to betray his friend, but they both knew he’d accomplish his goal any way he could. Nonetheless, he was grateful Takeda had not been present. He wouldn’t be able to face his chujin if he were.

Once he’d returned to the Shirai Ryu Fire Gardens, there was some relief to be felt from it. However, when the sky turned a deep red, his satisfaction soured. Even once the darkness cleared, the feeling stuck. It worsened as days passed. A new wave of guilt struck him. Despite all his efforts, he’d freed Shinnok and put many in danger due to his impulsiveness. Every last person he could blame was dead. All but himself.

With each punch he landed, he became more conscious of the way his body ached. He revelled in the pain, using it as an escape. With his mind distracted, his hellfire stayed at bay. His focus was so strong, it seemed like a trance. Hasashi was unaware of the concerned looks his clan shot his way. Furthermore, in his focus, he completely missed as another joined him. The newcomer watched his hastened strikes quietly, intentionally not alerting his presence.

Hanzo paused once more to replace the shattered equipment. As he moved, his attention snapped behind him, hearing footsteps double with his own. He spun around and reached out to pin the arm that way outstretched towards him. His grip dropped in an instant as he saw who had followed him.

Kuai Liang stood in front of him, his gaze filled with concern. Hanzo was wide-eyed and panting. He’s not expected to see the cryomancer, least of all at that moment. He scanned the room to see if he’d missed anything else. He half expected to be scolded again. At the sight of the empty space, save for them, his shoulders relaxed.

He stepped back from his guest to resume his activity. Stress began to pull at his mind once more, but he disregarded it. Hanzo did not yet feel prepared to discuss his situation. It was clear to him that Kuai Liang had accompanied him for that exact reason, always one to reach out. But he couldn’t bear the thought. He gritted his teeth and continued the task at hand, forcing himself not to snap and push the other man away.

The cryomancer took the silence as permission. He leaned against the wall, watching once more.

-

An hour passed before Hasashi stopped, the strain on his muscles becoming too much. He stared forward, his eyes void of emotion. Exhaustion had taken over his body. He was unable to fight any longer.

“Quan Chi is dead.” Hanzo gave in and spoke through pants. He was certain the news had already reached the Lin Kuei, but it was as good of a place as any to start. That fact alleviated both of their worries but wounded them in other ways.

Kuai Liang rose from where he’d sat himself some time ago. He approached warily and placed a hand on the pyromancer’s arm.

“Harumi, Satoshi… How many times must I avenge them?” His voice filled with hurt as he frowned. It was more than only them; it was his clan, himself, and if Kuai Liang was truthful in his feelings, Bi-Han as well. He dared not mention his name. Despite all his effort, that guilt was still ugly.

“How many more times until I get my peace? Until they may rest.” His voice trailed off.

The cryomancer moved closer, holding his shoulders in concern. “They do rest, Hanzo. They have for many years.”

Hasashi’s frown grew, but he did not fight the words; instead, another point bothered him. “I promised us both I’d kill Quan Chi, but Shinnok-“ 

“Shinnok has been stopped.” He cut him off. He wouldn’t allow Hanzo’s self-blame to continue. “The Cage family is surprisingly resilient. Outworlders were conspiring against us for Shinnok’s reappearance long before any of us knew. You are not the sole person to blame.”

The other does not respond, allowing Kuai Liang to go on.

“You have done much to atone for the things you did under Quan Chi’s command. Your grief is longer to be used against you. The losses you’ve suffered have been honoured. Takeda has done nothing short of rave about your efforts.” He brought a hand up to the man’s cheek. Hanzo’s eyes met his in response to the gentle affection.

“The Shirai Ryu is rebuilt, the fire gardens stand once more, and most importantly, you still have family with you. That is no small task.” Kuai Liang kept his tone soft. “Harumi and Satoshi have not been forgotten; you carry them with you. They are loved. They rest, Hanzo.”

The words earned a sad smile in return. Hasashi couldn’t bring himself to cry. He was torn, and the old wound was ripped open once more. Yet Kuai Liang had a point. He did have family, albeit a bit small; it was all he needed.

“They would have liked you, Harumi, and Satoshi.” He mumbled as he leant into the hand familiarly.

Kuai Liang sighed sadly and brushed his thumb against the other’s cheek at the thought.

The Pyromancer was confident Kuai Liang would have liked them as well. He loved them so fiercely that it made his heart ache, even after so many years. He would always miss his wife and son, but he could no longer imagine his life without the other man by his side.

Taking advantage of the privacy they had, Kuai Liang kissed him softly. He smiled at the way his lover melted into it. They held each other for a moment to give Hanzo a chance to collect himself before they left. It was hardly a secret what they’d become over the years, but it felt nice to have time alone.

No argument was heard from either grandmaster as they pulled each other to Master Hasashi’s quarters. They both had things they needed from them, but they couldn’t find it in themselves to care. They could spare the rest of the day cuddling like nothing mattered.

[wickedlittleoz]

Hello! So I was listening to "Blood by Mothica" and it reminded me of that vampire Hanzo from heroes of the storm and I was wondering if it'd be okay to request vampire Hanzo in shimadacest :3c The thought of Hanzo piercing Genji's skin and feasting on his blood is shhfjfjfjfsjjfjdjffjdjd

I know you already did a vampire fic in the past so no biggie if you're not in the mood! Thank you and have a nice day! 🙆

HELLO HI HOW ARE YOU

anon listen there is no such thing as one too many vamp au stories, THANK YOU for requesting another one because i love writing these!!

was loosely inspired by lucy's arch in dracula but obvi this one has a happy ending. i hope you like it!!! send more if/whenever you wish, ily, have a good week <3

-

A cold, salty breeze blows through Genji's window. Curled in the couch beside it, he sighs dreamily. Outside the full moon reflects on the ocean so bright and so large that he feels like he's being transported to another dimension, somewhere else entirely. Somewhere where he's free...

Behind him, the door swings open. He doesn't have to look to know who's coming, doesn't need the heavy steps and the tired sigh.

"I thought I told you to close that window an hour ago," his father says with assertion, but no anger.

Genji too heaves a sigh and unfurls from the blanket to do as he's told. Then there's a hand on his shoulder, and he allows himself to be guided to his bed and tucked in. Sojiro sits beside him, offering a small thing of a smile. Genji mirrors it.

"Rest, my son." He pats Genji's face gently. "Doctor Fukaya will come to see you in the morning."

Something coils inside Genji at the thought of talking to a shrink. He's never been a fan of sitting quiet and discussing feelings, let alone with a complete stranger. Sure, his brother's disappearance has been... Difficult... But he thinks with time, he'll get over it.

He has to.

"Is it really necessary, father?" Genji asks, knowing full well that he can't change Sojiro's mind – he's already moved the entire family out to their summerhouse only because fresh air should be good for Genji's health. And it has been good, in fact. Sometimes he can almost forget...

As expected, he pays no mind to his son's wishes. "Good night, Genji," is all the man says before he leaves.

Sojiro makes sure to turn off the lights on his way out and Genji is almost certain that the hears the lock turn. He sighs. Might as well sleep...

A couple hours later, he thinks he's woken up by something tapping on his window. But the sleeping meds that Sojiro has him taking make his mind foggy, so it might be just a dream...

Sunlight. The roar of the waves. Wet sand on his feet.

He feels grounded here. At ease.

It's now been six months since Hanzo went missing. Genji remembers it like yesterday. A regular midweek morning where he left the family estate for some work regarding the clan... And never returned.

He remembers hugging Hanzo at the door and that his brother had kissed his cheek, and some bodyguard had coughed uncomfortably at the intimacy of that gesture. Their father laughed with some vague explanation about how his boys had grown up very close since their mother passed.

He had no idea just how close...

Genji might never be able to explain to their father why Hanzo's disappearance hurts so much. The memories alone make his heart feel like it might stop beating. An entire existence, always yearning for Hanzo – his brother, best friend and love of his life.

He sighs, tears slipping down his face without him so much as realizing they were coming. But someone calls out his name, all the way back by the house, and Genji swallows the sentiment.

Therapy goes as poorly as expected and by nighttime, Genji feels worse than he's had since they got here. He doesn't sit by the window and when Sojiro comes to say goodnight, somehow the man thinks that's a good sign. Tells Genji that Dr. Fukaya will be back in a couple of days, as if that's any comfort. Genji just nods vaguely. The meds are kicking in and the world begins to swirl around him...

Tap. Tap. Tap tap.

He wakes up with a start. This time he's certain of the sound he hears.

His hands are shaking as Genji walks up to the window. Whatever's out there continues to insistently hit against the glass, so he takes a deep breath before pulling apart the curtains.

A... bat?

"Poor thing," Genji breathes, relaxing at the sight of the creature. "Must have hit your head, huh?"

The animal somehow brings back some sense of peace to Genji's heart. It's a simple coincidence, that this irrational being got confused and wants into the room. And he's always had a soft spot for little flying things; he doesn't really think about consequences as he opens the window to let the bat in.

"See?" Genji chirps as the bat does a lap around his bedroom. "This probably isn't where you wanted to go."

Obviously he doesn't expect the animal to understand him, but the bat doesn't stop flying in circles for a full minute.

"You like it here?" He doesn't know whether to be scared or amazed, but he's certain that this little creature poses no threat or danger to anyone's health; if anything, having him around makes Genji happy, so he informs the bat that, "Well, you can stay as long as you like."

He slips back into bed and watches the bat for a few moments, before sleep takes hold of him once more. When he wakes up the next day, it's gone.

"I take it that therapy went well," Sojiro says at breakfast. "You look better... But remind me to have someone check your room for bed bugs."

Genji frowns. "I don't think there are bugs in my bed... I would have noticed."

"Silly boy," his father says with a dismissive chuckle.

It's not until after breakfast that he understands what Sojiro meant: a pair of tiny red dots adorn the side of his neck, which hadn't been there the day before. They feel wet at touch, but not itchy, and he really doesn't remember being bitten by anything. Odd...

Tap. Tap. Tap tap.

Genji stirs in his sleep, but doesn't fully wake up. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness he remembers leaving the window partly open for his friendly bat to visit. There's no reason to get out of bed, the creature can just fly in if it so wishes.

A deep voice calling out his name in a provocative whisper.

A sudden sting on the side of his neck.

His eyes blink open before he's aware of being awake and a familiar face comes into view.

"H-Hanzo?" He asks and the man smiles. Were his canines always so big and sharp? Is that blood on his gums?

"I'm here, brother," says that voice of allure and somehow it both does and doesn't sound quite like Hanzo.

He's so confused. His brain hasn't caught up to the present yet. "Is this a dream?"

A cold palm slides down the side of Genji's face, his throat. It slips under the neck of his shirt to caress his chest, leaving goosebumps in its trail. It downs on Genji that he's being held in the man's embrace. And his hand keeps brushing downwards, feeling all of Genji's torso, rousing him to consciousness...

"Does it feel like a dream?" He asks in a murmur, then chuckles.

The sound is so familiar...

Genji tries to free himself from the arms wound around him, but Hanzo won't let up.

"Hanzo, is it really you?" Fully awake, he shakes and stutters, but Hanzo merely shushes, holding even tighter onto Genji's form.

"Easy now, easy!" He kisses the top of Genji's head and suddenly he feels a sense of calm wash over him, such that it doesn't even surprise him, when it well should.

"You don't want to wake up the rest of the house," Hanzo continues saying. "If they find me here they'll send me away."

Hanzo is right, what is Genji thinking? Didn't they spend their entire lives slipping into each other's bedrooms late at night, when no one could see? This is their song and dance.

Genji relaxes against his body and Hanzo hums appreciatively. He starts to undo the buttons on Genji's shirt.

A thought occurs to him that he hadn't noticed before. "You're cold."

A hum. "You can help warm me."

Genji giggles as Hanzo's hungry hand massages his now exposed chest. He knows what his brother means.

"You haven't changed one bit," he says, reaching down to untie his pajama pants. He thinks he probably hasn't touched himself (or anyone else, for that matter) since Hanzo went missing, but Hanzo is right here. All is fine, now.

"You're wrong," there's a tone of entertainment in Hanzo's voice and he leans closer, until his lips brush against Genji's ear and his breath sends a chilly shiver down his spine, to say, "I bite now."

Genji could laugh if he weren't busy moaning. Suddenly he's a hard as a rock and Hanzo sees it, shifts his hand down and into Genji's pants.

"Bite me all you want," Genji manages before Hanzo's magical hand wraps around him.

He thinks he hears thank you, little brother, though Hanzo's lips don't move against his skin. But all of this could easily be just a very vivid wet dream, he wouldn't be surprised. So voices and whispers are to be expected.

All he knows is that Hanzo is still the person who knows him best, and that includes how he likes his cock touched. He gets lost in the feeling, so high on pleasure, that when the fangs pierce the skin of his neck Genji just tightens his hold on Hanzo's hair, begs for more, faster, harder! And he delivers. He always delivers.

He passes out, he thinks, when he climaxes, because when he wakes up the next day, Genji is alone in bed.

"You're late," Sojiro says when Genji wanders into the kitchen. He looks up from his phone and frowns at the sight of his son. "And pale. Did you have a nightmare or something?"

A nightmare? Genji wouldn't call it that...

"A cold, I think," he lies, sinking heavily onto a chair.

His father hums. It sounds exactly like Hanzo's. "I told you not to stay at the beach after dark. I'll have someone make you tea."

He gets up from his chair and makes to leave the room, but stops and really looks a Genji for a moment. And frowns. "Those beg bugs are still around? And I was told your bedroom was clean."

Angrily, he stomps away and Genji knows someone will be getting yelled at shortly. But his concerns are somewhere else. He reaches upwards and touches his neck; the wounds feel slightly bigger and when he looks, there's a tiny smear of blood on his fingertips.

Hanzo appears in his dreams again that night. And again, when Genji tries to ask about where he's been and why he doesn't want others to see him, he deflects the question, kisses Genji's head and suddenly he forgets his anger, his worries.

He hums against Genji's neck, licks over the bug bites lovingly. Genji just shivers, hugging onto him lest he leaves again. But he does anyways. Genji wakes up alone again.

By the third night, he's already expecting the visit. He hears it when the bat flies into the room and, a minute later, feels Hanzo slipping into bed beside him. The whole thing has gotten Genji thinking and this only proves that he's right.

Somehow, supernatural beings are real and his brother is a vampire.

Hanzo bursts out laughing before Genji even says anything. "Does it scare you?"

Genji sits up and stares at his brother – or what used to be him. Pale skin, red eyes. His long hair falls loose around his face, his shoulders. Shiny and beautiful as ever. The sharpness of his expression is irresistibly sexy; Genji feels a literal sigh slip out of his lips.

"No," he says with honesty. "You couldn't scare me if you tried."

Hanzo's eyes soften and he fully sits on the bed beside Genji, leans in for a kiss that Genji throws himself into, body and soul.

"We can run away together," Hanzo whispers. "Forget the family, forget everything. You can be like me and then you'll be free."

Free. He's crying before he knows it and Hanzo wipes away the tears with gentle fingers.

"Are you happy?" Genji asks, not because he worries about his own happiness, but because he cares about his brother. It's been 6 whole months. Were they good or bad? Where has he been?

The sincerity in Hanzo's eyes is almost palpable. "How could I be happy without you at my side?"

A sob wracks through Genji's body and he pulls Hanzo into another kiss, and another, and another. An hour later they're curled into each other, naked and clear-headed, and as he curls his fingers into Hanzo's hair, he realizes the answer is so very simple.

"Take me," he whispers against his brother's smile. "For all eternity."

Illuminated by the moon, Hanzo's face seems to glow, a picture of absolute beauty that Genji will forever remember and cherish.

"For all eternity."

[cyberrat]

75th Batch Of Fics: 10th Fill

Cassidy/Hanzo – Part 3/4 (ish) – wolfgod!Hanzo; coyote shapeshifter!Cassidy; young!Cassidy (mid 20s); old!Hanzo (mid 40s); virgin!Cassidy; transman Cassidy – Time to do the deflowering!

---

Hanzo wants to fuck Cole like this; just the way he is. In his true form so none of his senses will be suppressed as he partakes in this absolutely delightful little treat – but as his humongous cock slides against the pup’s ass and along the protrusion of his spine once, twice, three times, he has to admit that he is simply too big for the shapeshifter.

Cole, admirably, does not say anything. Maybe he does not realize that Hanzo could quite literally rip him in half on his cock. He seems deep in his own head, all sinewy muscle tight as a board and trembling. Waiting and dreading in equal measures for the moment that Hanzo’s cock will cuddle up to his unused, perfect cunt.

Hanzo growls. He wants to lick Cole’s neck while he fucks him but he can’t do both at the same time. His hips keep hunching forward, dragging his dick along the delicious knobs of Cole’s desperately arched back. Fucking him in the oddest way possible while the scent of his ripe, hot peach is driving Hanzo insane.

So he has to reconsider his approach. He does not like it but there is nothing to do about it. Not now. Not when he first has to open this pup up to getting adored by him.

Hanzo shifts his form, moving from a large white wolf into the shape of something more human like. Still big, yes, but not uncomfortably so. His hands drag along Cole’s skinny back, feeling the bit of fur he managed to grow despite his body’s abused state.

Cole’s head turns around slowly. His eyes are wide, staring up at Hanzo throning above him in his human-like glory. He doesn’t say anything at first, only a wheezing little whine escaping him.

Hanzo curls a corner of his mouth up. He pets along Cole’s back again. “Good boy,” he croons, magnanimously.

Beneath his petting hand, he can feel Cole starting to relax downward; the arch of his spine becoming a valley as he starts to present himself. Present his juicy cunt. It’s furry lips are glistening from its own wetness and the ministrations of Hanzo’s tongue.

He can see Cole’s hole, silky and small and perfect. Too perfect to immediately destroy on his other cock.

Hanzo made the right decision. Of course.

He grasps Cole’s meager ass and lightly digs his claws into his skin as he spreads his cheeks; looking at all that he has to offer because it is his right now.

He drags his human cock along his gash, using his thumb to press against his shaft and let the tip gently nudge against Cole’s hole.

The pup is audibly panting. His tail, curved nice and obedient out of the way, trembles with anticipation.

“I’ll make you mine now,” Hanzo purrs low. He can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cock, strong and unhurried. His balls feel nice and full for his new mate. “I will take perfect care of you, my pet. And I think once I have had my fill for the moment, fucking you raw and pumping you full of my pups… I will have a little stroll in the moonlight and sniff out whoever mangled your perfect body.”

He moves his hips, focusing on being slow despite the heat crawling through his veins. He can push him down later; put his hand on the back of his head and mash his face into the ground while he grunt fucks his squelching pussy-

Yes, he can do it all. But for now, he needs to be nice and slow… nice and… slow…

Hanzo hisses through his teeth when his crown finally pops into Cole’s body. The shapeshifter is groaning open mouthed and delirious. His shoulders start to tilt toward the ground all on their own.

His stump awkwardly waves in front of his belly like he wants to reach for his cunt and feel for himself how it’s getting stretched so mean.

Hanzo’s hand curls around the base of his bushy tail. He needs a lot of tender love and care; someone to take a brush to his fur and make sure there are no devious little pests hiding in it.

He will make time for that later; once he’s bred his pup up and got him secured away.

Once he maimed whoever dared to lay hands on him.

Cole’s pussy might be unused but it stretches beautifully for him. The little mouth suckles on his dick, gripping nice and tight. His inner muscles work all nervous and shy. Absolutely delicious.

Thumb dragging against the vertebrae of Cole’s tail, Hanzo takes care to rock into him nice and slow despite it being absolute torture.

“You feel… divine,” Hanzo grits out between clenched teeth. “A perfect, untouched flower just for me…”

Cole whines in response; high-pitched and a bit panicky sounding. His shoulders have sunk completely to the ground now; absolute submission to Hanzo. When he speaks, his words are trembling so hard that it is difficult for Hanzo to follow along.

“You jus’... you jus’ say that t-to them all right?”

Hanzo tilts his head. He does not know what that is supposed to mean, though he gets a feeling it is meant to be cheeky. And if Cole has enough wherewithal to focus on anything but getting mounted, Hanzo is not doing his job properly.

He growls low in his throat, tilting his torso forward and over the scrawny back of the pup. His cock slides a little deeper still, aided by how the peach’s juices have started to drip. Once speared open, there is no way to stem the tide, though Hanzo is very much of a mind to try and stopper it with his dick.

“You are mouthy,” he croons back. “Amusing.”

Cole does not answer. What little cheek he had possessed has obviously left him as he’s gently forced to get used to being bred. His face is pink and sweaty, mouth looking so soft… Hanzo wishes his tongue were still long enough to reach it and lick inside. Kiss him as deep as he can.

Instead, he crawls into his body in a different way. His cock is bigger than any human’s would be, even in this form. He can see that Cole realizes as much from the tears of overstimulation glittering in the pup’s eyes.

Explosively, as if Cole had forgotten to do so, he exhales a long breath, then inhales shudderingly and whines while moving as if to try and crawl away. Hanzo doesn’t let him, of course. He tilts his head, interested and amused by the pup’s shenanigans.

Cole’s insides are clenched down on him like wet velvet. It is a delirious feeling.

“You can’t go anywhere now,” Hanzo purrs, curling himself further over his new mate, covering his back, hips gently nudging forward still through the slight resistance he can feel. Cole yips, then goes still and cross-eyed.

“We’ve come too far now… wouldn’t want to spoil the fun before the grand finale, hmn?”

[vincentvalenfine]

Cupid’s Heart

A spark of interest had summoned him, but it was the wave of desire that swept him away - Cupid wasn’t expecting someone quite so bent on stealing his own heart.

Cupid!Hanzo/Reader Warnings: smut with the shakiest of plots, heavy fourth wall leaning, unprotected piv, blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, can you tell I have the hots for Hanzo Shimada so badly read it on AO3!

An evening at your favorite nightclub has always made unwinding for the weekend a more pleasant time - taking the time to clean up and dress up before heading out to the club to relax in one of the leather-lined booths with a drink and good music? Guaranteed great start to your free time. Much as you like your apartment, the chance to people-watch while you drink and chill the evening away is another reason to go out rather than stay home. As long as you don’t drink too much or get googly-eyed over a stranger, things are great.

This evening, though... this evening your usual booth is taken, filled with a chattering, boisterous group. You eye them from across the lounge with annoyance, pursing your lips before making your way to a different booth than usual, far enough to keep their noise subdued beneath the music. It gives you a better view of the bar counter than usual, normally angled towards the dance floor instead. And that means you can watch the bartender for once, an unusual opportunity. So watch them you do.

Clean cut, a well-styled coif of blonde hair, a charming smile... honestly? Kinda cute. It isn’t too hard to imagine walking up and asking for more than just a drink, if you can work up the courage. Dating is so hard these days.

Zap!

What feels like a static shock leaps through your chest, causing you to jump a little - and then jump again when you realize there’s someone suddenly across the table from you. When had that happened? But the question flits away without an answer as you take in the stranger’s appearance, and come to the abrupt conclusion that if the bartender was cute, then this man was... well, absolutely stunning. Even in the dim light of the lounge it’s not hard to make out those brilliant green eyes, framed with a lustrous lock of brown to one side and a well-groomed beard. He has high cheekbones, lightly tanned skin tone, and a smile that’s already pinned you to your seat. The only part that’s weird is his outfit, some sort of... Roman costume, maybe? You’re a little too busy staring at his face to care about the rest of it.

“Hark!” Who says hark in this day and age? Wild. “Do I sense a quickening heart and the stirrings of desire? I am Cupid, hero of love in all its forms, guide to those who desire love down their path to fulfillment.”

Well... ‘Cupid’ explained the toga, sort of.

“... Uh huh?”

Unfortunately you still can’t stop staring. A blush has crept over his cheeks, which just makes him even harder to look away from, and he seems taken aback by the gaze locked on him. Must be forgetting his lines. “I... do not fret, mortal, you are the only one who can see me.”

So on top of staring it also looks to other people like you’re zoning out, cool.

“... So. Did you wish to win their heart?”

‘Cupid’ gestures towards the bartender you had been admiring, except your head doesn’t shift their way even a little, and instead you manage to reply, “Um. Can I win your heart instead?”

And he looks surprised again, the blush growing to cover most of his face. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said.”

And if he can sense the ‘quickening heart’ of someone, then he should be able to tell yours is racing from being so bold. Meeting someone so incredibly handsome, regardless of weird outfits and claims of being Cupid? You have to shoot your shot, consequences be damned.

“I, uh... was not expecting that.” He definitely doesn’t know how to handle this, and you lean forward to continue pressing your luck. “It’s not every day I see someone like you. I don’t think I could even dream of looking at anyone else right now.”

And now Cupid looks even more flustered. “I do not... usually interfere with mortals so directly...”

“Give me a chance. I want to get to know you.”

“Well...”

You muster your most earnest expression, eyes locked with his until he seems ultimately too flustered to hold your gaze and looks away. “I.. suppose it would be a good opportunity for you to practice. Until you meet another whom you desire. Very well then! You may try, mortal.”

He seems to have convinced himself for the moment, and just like that the lounge suddenly fades away into darkness, causing you to blink a few times until you can see - not the club, but... a courtyard with a gazebo, scattered cherry trees with their fragrant blossoms, a large building of some kind further back. It looks... like Japan? But if he’s Cupid, why are you in Japan? This is getting absurd.

“Welcome to the realm of love,” he states, and for the third time in as many minutes you jump, turning towards him as he’s now by your side instead. “Uh... then why’s it look like-?”

“Enough questions! Now, you must practice how to engage with someone new.”

Okay then. Despite the absurdity of the situation (perhaps this is all one big... episode of suddenly blacking out in the club and having a particularly vivid dream?), you straighten yourself up, clear your throat, and make eye contact with Cupid once more, giving him your warmest smile. “Hi there. I saw you from across the club and wanted to let you know how amazing you look tonight. I wanted to ask if I could maybe buy you a drink, or have a dance?”

Oh, there he goes blushing again. Your satisfaction feels disproportionately strong, but honestly? If you are having some sort of black out episode for real, you might as well enjoy yourself right now.

“That was... very good! Let us assume that we have danced for a few songs.”

“What, we’re not going to actually dance?”

“I... do not dance,” he admits, looking sheepish, and you raise your eyebrows. “It’s not very good practice if I don’t get to show off my dance moves. And what kind of ‘hero of love’ doesn’t dance?”

Cupid looks like he’s dying from embarrassment.

“Please, let us move on. You are - quite proficient at flirting already, so you do not need practice there.”

“I wouldn’t mind practicing some more if I get to see you blush some more.”

And now he’s really blushing, flushed from ear to ear. You can’t help but grin, feeling greedy for more of his adorable reactions, and feeling even bolder than before you step closer, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Please dance with me, Cupid. I’m sure you can do it.”

Is that smooth jazz beginning to fill the air? Maybe the realm of love plays its own ambient music when it wants to. Cupid appears frozen stiff now, mouth opening and closing a few times before he can finally break free of his statue stillness. Then he turns his head away, clearly too embarrassed to look even as he hesitantly sets his hands on your waist. High school prom dance style? Well, it could be worse. You give his shoulders a squeeze, broad and well-muscled under your fingers, and begin to lead a simple waltz in time with the music floating through the courtyard. You’re careful about your steps, both to avoid stepping on his toes, and to avoid getting stepped on by his awkwardly following gait. Man, he really doesn’t dance, huh. Endearingly terrible at it.

But he does begin to relax from his earlier flustered tension, and when he’s finally able to glance at you he has a faint smile on his lips - he looks so charming with that smile, you can feel your own cheeks beginning to grow warm now. This certainly isn’t the night out you were expecting, but it’s far more engaging than what you had planned. When the music starts to fade away you slow down and finally stop, finding your gaze caught on his face once more. He’s simply too handsome to look away from, and this time he seems caught up in gazing in return.

You decide to push your luck again, and lean in to steal a kiss. He’s definitely startled, judging by his shoulders going stiff, but his lips are pliant against yours, soft and warm and utterly kissable. It’s hard not to linger for more than a few seconds, but you withdraw to make sure you don’t overstay your welcome and instead admire just how red his face has turned thanks to you.

Again, his mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and looks away.

“You have proven yourself to be... quite adept at this.”

“I don’t want to waste the chance you’ve given to me. I’d like to prove to you I’m worth your time.”

“I see...” he trails off, looking thoughtful (if still somewhat embarrassed) for a minute before he gives his head a quick toss to get his hair out of his face. “Very well then. Let us see if you can keep up with the hero of love.”

Now Cupid is the one leaning in to kiss you, catching you off-guard for just a moment before you eagerly press closer. Still soft and kissable but this time he’s confidently leading the figurative dance (a lot better than his literal dancing). His arm wraps around your waist to hug you firmly against him, giving you the chance to bask in how warm he is compared to the brisk breeze that sweeps around the two of you. You’re ready to melt by the time he pulls back, and he begins to smirk faintly, raising a brow. “You look ready to fall apart.”

“Only if you kiss me again,” you reply, taking a deep breath to try and pull yourself together. Not that he gives you the chance, closing the distance again to deliver another passionate kiss that has you wrapping your arms around his neck with a soft moan. That seems to be the only excuse he needs to lift you off your feet, effortlessly strong it seems, and begin to carry you off. Where to, you’re not really sure, honestly too busy mapping the shape of his lips against yours and the faint sweetness just past them as if he’d been eating candy before. It makes sense, you suppose, for the hero of love to taste sweet. When your feet touch the ground again it sounds less like the stone pathway from earlier and more like... oh, that’s a nice wood floor.

You have to break away to breathe for a few moments, glancing about to spot warmly glowing paper lanterns, tatami mats, a neat little cot with rich red bedding - is this where he lives? Who knew Cupid kept such a tidy little place.

“Are you sure you wish to continue?”

Your attention snaps back to Cupid, staring at you almost as intently as you had first stared at him. It only takes you a second of thought as you lick your lips, and then part them to reply, “Please.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs to lift you again, this time swept up bridal style and carried to the bed where he lays you down gently before going right back in for another kiss. Your hands are quick to pull him down on top of you, pulling at the fabric of his toga in a vain attempt to understand how it might come undone. There’s a muffled chuckle that vibrates in his throat and against your lips, his hands sliding over yours and pulling them away for the moment to pin them over your head, an action that draws a low whine from you and a slight squirm. Is he really going to make you wait? Well, he hasn’t totally pinned you down, and you hitch a leg up over his hip to pull him down against you. That draws a deep hum from him and makes your guts churn with desire, rolling your hips up for some much-needed friction. He does respond to that with a slow grind of his own, evoking a moan that’s half-swallowed by his lips still fervently pressed to yours.

You have to break off once more to catch your breath again, gulping air while he watches with a satisfied look before turning his attention a little lower down and kissing his way along your neck. You’re more than willing to tilt your head up out of his way, yelping when he decides to get nippy and starts working a love bite onto the side of your neck.

Hips still frotting up into him, it’s hard not to be impatient and wriggle your arms in an attempt to slip from from his hold. His grip’s too firm to slide out of that easily, but he laughs quietly and bundles your wrists in the grasp of one hand so the other can glide down over your chest and stomach, settling on your hip to dictate the pace of your grinding to something far too leisurely.

“Oh, come on,” you whine, and he laughs again as he kisses the reddened spot he’s made and drags his lips along your neck, up to your ear.

“Patience is a skill you should practice as well. Shall I teach you?”

You can’t help shivering at the sultry tone, especially when he nibbles at your earlobe teasingly. “What if I ask nicely?”

Cupid hums, nibbling up along the shell of your ear and making you squirm with need. He’s making this as frustrating as possible just to test you, isn’t he? Finally he speaks again in that same low, seductive tone. “Tell me what your desire is, mortal mine.”

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, stomach twisting and turning with pure need - surely he can tell what you want right now, but he’s still going to make you say it out loud. You have to take a shaky breath to make sure your voice doesn’t crack or stumble when you manage to reply.

“I want you, please.”

There’s another deep hum of his, and then in short order his hands are working to undo your clothing, deft as can be in getting it out of his way as quickly, yet gently as possible. In just a few moments you’re lying bare against his sheets, flushed with warmth and need while he just as swiftly removes his own clothing. Ah, so that’s how a toga comes off. You don’t even try to keep your gaze from drifting down to the bulge in his shorts, though he simply smirks and spends the moment removing his sandals - damn, those are cool sandals, actually. You’ll have to ask where he got them later.

Right now though he’s finally slipping those shorts off, making a brief show of his cock catching against the waistband and stretching the fabric before finally coming free with an eager twitch. Half hard, still hidden in foreskin, but he’s well-endowed; you would be disappointed if the hero of love wasn’t packing. You’re trying to be patient this time, bringing your gaze to his face with a little pout until he huffs out a laugh and nods. In no time flat you’ve sat up and wrapped a hand around his dick to begin stroking it to a proper erection, smiling to yourself when he closes his eyes and lets out an appreciative moan. He looks irresistible, finding yourself leaning in and pressing kisses against his chest and down onto his stomach before you reach shapely V of his pelvis. Even his pubes are well-groomed... and trimmed to form an upside down heart. Amazing.

Back to the task at hand though, literally. If the stroking hasn’t done the job to get him hard, there’s no doubting that the look up you give him does the trick, his brief glance down resulting in another handsome blush and an enthusiastic twitch of his cock. You’ve done more than enough waiting by now and are quick to lick the first drops of pre off his head before starting to suck on the first few inches of him. He tastes surprisingly sweet, only the slightest hints of salt on your tongue from your first lick - it’s not overbearing, but it makes you curious to see what the rest will taste like. His hand comes to rest on your head, fingers brushing through your hair encouragingly while another moan leaves his throat. Another glance up at him, his eyes half-closed with pleasure and lips parted for quick breaths, and you’re spurred to work all the more eagerly, sucking as much of his cock as you can fit in your mouth while your hand strokes in time along the base of it. It’s a perfect fit almost, probably even better if you could deepthroat him from here, but... this is only the first date. You’ll hope for a second one so you can show Cupid even more of your desire for him.

When his fingers grab onto your hair firmly you ready yourself for the load that shortly follows, accompanied by a loud throaty moan - thick and warm, but rather than salty it’s sweetly vanilla and cinnamon, far too easy to swallow. You milk every last drop until his twitches subside before finally letting him free, licking the saliva off your lips as you catch your breath and look up at him again. He looks incredible, the barest sheen of sweat on his skin as he catches his own breath, as well as your gaze with those gorgeous greens.

“Do I need to practice that too?” you ask cheekily.

Cupid only snorts in response, hands moving to your shoulders to push you back down against the bedding. Despite your wiggles inviting him to climb on top, he settles his face between your legs instead and gives you the same look you had given him just earlier. You’re pretty sure your face is going to abruptly catch fire now, but before you can say anything he’s giving your cunt a proper eating out, and all your thoughts have flown right out the window to leave you pressed against the bed, squirming and moaning. He knows exactly what he’s doing, tongue drawing around your clit in between the licking and gentle sucking, and his hands have to hold onto your hips to minimize the needy rutting into his mouth. You’re pretty sure it takes you less time than him to climax with such an experienced mouth drawing you right along over the edge. He doesn’t let up on you until you’re breathless and limp, sitting up to finally give you a moment of respite and licking his own lips with a look that tells you he’s far from done with you.

“Don’t tell me you’ve run out of energy already,” he teases, and you muster up a defiant huff. “I can keep going. I still want you.”

“Then you shall have me, if you can handle me.”

The smirk he gives you is plenty enough to send your stomach somersaulting with renewed desire, and this time he does set himself on top of you, stroking himself slowly while leaning down to kiss you. This time there’s a salty taste that you know is your own cum still lingering in his mouth, a kiss that you still press into with an eager and open mouth to give him free rein to explore. The invitation is accepted almost as eagerly, though you’re soon distracted by his hand rubbing over your mound and sliding a warm pair of fingers between your vulva, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Squirming once more, legs twitching with each sly brush against your clit, every whine and moan is muffled against his mouth in spite of your noisiest efforts until you have to surface for air, a wanton ‘please’ huffed out between breaths.

“Since you asked so nicely, mortal mine.”

He’s going to drive you crazy with that silly epithet, but at least he’s finally sliding a pair of already slick fingers inside you, just thick enough to make you moan again and clench on them needily. In and out with a few lazy scissoring motions to make sure you’re relaxed and wet enough, though he still takes a moment to grab a nearby bottle and pour some of its contents in his hand, rubbing it along his cock and then along your cunt in turn. The smell is pleasant, almost spicy, and you can immediately feel the warmth of it against your skin seeming to seep in and tingle. It only further heightens your anticipation, trying to hold still for him while he’s lining himself up. You don’t want to look away from him pressing the thick head of his cock into you, not until the stretch of his girth makes you drop your head back with an eager moan and spread your legs out. He’s the perfect size, sliding in to the full length without a hint of discomfort - the perfect lover, it would make sense.

Cupid gives you a moment to adjust to his cock buried in you, and then starts to rock his hips in smooth, steady thrusts. His dry hand finds its way along your side to your hip to keep your own movements rolling in time with his, though you’re already painfully impatient for a pace that’s harder, faster, maybe just a little bit rough. You’re certain he can tell you’re getting needy again, but it’s also clear he’s going to make you wait for it, though there is some reprieve from his lube-slicked hand rubbing over your mound in rhythm with his thrusting.

“Please, I need you,” you whine, and he still has the dignity to blush in spite of being mid-coitus. But he recovers with a smirk, voice husky and maybe just a little bit shaky. “You already have me, do you not? Shall I mark you as mine too?”

A quick adjustment of position makes it easy for him to press down against you, finding a deeper angle for his thrusts that has your legs twitching every time he buries himself all the way. This time when his lips are pressed to your neck he makes sure each bite and suck is hard enough to bruise, and the hand between your legs is ensuring a firm brush along your clit with each stroke - you lock your legs around his hips to stop them from twitching so much, but it definitely doesn’t stop you from gasping and moaning. There isn’t anyone around to hear it, so you’re shamelessly loud for him, and the pleased groans muffled against your neck tell you that he’s having just as good of a time.

The pace turns fast and hard sooner than you expected from him but you’re not going to complain, working your hips to make sure each thrust touches the sweet spot that’s making your whole body tremble with pleasure. One of your hands finds its way to the back of his neck, urging him on with fingernails digging into his skin. Almost there again, legs shaking with need until one more drag of his hand pushes you to your next orgasm, more intense than the last and making your hips spasm hard into each thrust - but he isn’t stopping yet, despite each squeeze of your muscles makes him growl with need. He’s pushing right on through your climax, though his hand is giving your clit a much needed break, at least.

No, all he’s doing is adjusting your position by rolling you onto your back. You don’t have the breath to protest at the flip, and it’s barely a moment before he’s buried in your cunt again, slick enough that he has no issue picking right back up. The new angle provides a fresh sort of stimulation that keeps you gasping, and his lips find their way to your skin again, this time working a hickey on the muscle of your shoulder.

You aren’t going to forget this encounter any time soon, not if his marks have anything to say about it.

Now he’s getting close, thrusts turning choppy and rough - his hand is back on your clit, working it mercilessly this time and forcing overstimulated cries from your throat. Trying to push you over the edge one last time you’re sure, and you’re simply coming along for the ride now as he makes his last few thrusts and presses his hips firmly to yours. His hand hasn’t stopped moving, and the pain-pleasure of overstimulation along with the heat of his cum spilling into you is just enough to drag a final orgasm from you, jerking and moaning under him helplessly. Even after you go limp he keeps you pinned in place for the time being, breathing hard but slowly starting to release the last bits of tension until he has the energy to pull out and lay himself down beside you.

You muster just enough energy to turn your head and look at Cupid - in spite of all the sweat and heaving breaths he’s still ravishingly handsome, flushed with exertion and eyes half-closed only to open properly when he realizes you’re watching him. A smirk plays along his lips, and he gives his somehow still perfect lock of hair a toss to get it out of his way.

“You did well, mortal. Better than I anticipated.”

“Yeah?”

You’re trying to sound nonchalant, but you haven’t quite caught your breath yet so it simply sounds eager. Cupid’s smirk only grows. “You still have much to learn, though. Perhaps I could be willing to assist you... at least until you have found someone whose heart you desire.”

For a moment you focus on calming your breathing down, contemplating your response. “... I liked it better when you called me yours. Though, the mortal part is a little weird.”

He huffs a little with amusement, and you can see the hesitation before he reaches over to brush his fingers along your cheek. “My heart would be no easy matter for a mere mortal to win over. You must be truly prepared to work for it.”

You tilt your head into his touch, closing your eyes with a hum. “I can be really stubborn.”

There’s a quiet chuckle from him, followed by a relaxed silence that, despite your best effort, lulls you to sleep - you think you feel Cupid wrap you in his arms before you’re effectively dead to the world from exhaustion, and the thought colors your dreams with giddy satisfaction.

But you wake up in your own bed, alone and fully dressed, head fuzzy from sleep that leaves you confused and worried. Did you dream up the whole evening? Maybe work wore you out just enough that you never actually made it out to the club, and it was just one vivid, delicious dream... either way, it’s late enough in the morning you should get up, stumbling into the bathroom to start brushing your teeth. Except-

That’s a perfectly heart-shaped hickey on your neck. And your shoulder.

“Huh...”

Here’s hoping Cupid gives you another date soon.

[riken-leather-co]

Bapzo Propaganda | Flare and Cold Compress |

“Is something the matter brother?”

Hanzo grimaced, ignoring Genji’s question in favor of trying to finish his tea. The mess hall was more lively than Hanzo liked. He’d come with the intention of enjoying a cup of tea to help with his joints. Of course, when he’d decided that the mess hall had been empty, which quickly changed. Fortunately, many of the members still took to giving him a wide berth seeing as he’d only been a part of Overwatch for roughly a month. While the constant eyes were annoying - he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Plus, he’d rather the stares than awkward small talk. His brother didn’t get the memo.

“I am fine Genji,” Hanzo said, sighing. Still, Genji did not leave him alone despite every sign he was giving telling him to.

“If it’s about your legs -”

“It is not.”

“I know you have your reservations about Angela -”

“Then stop suggesting her.” It wasn’t the fact that the woman had lectured him upon his first arrival that kept him away. In fact, he could vaguely say he’d warmed up to her a bit afterwards. At least someone would hold him responsible for his past transgressions if his brother would not. No, Hanzo simply had reservations about most doctors and medical care. Ten years of isolation and tending to his wounds would do that. And, even before then, the clan doctors were skilled but it was looked down upon to admit to pain.

Genji sighed. He fell quiet and Hanzo thought he’d know peace for once. Until Genji looked around and lit up - Hanzo followed his line of sight. He saw the cowboy and another man laughing. Dark skin, warm eyes, and a strong build. Hanzo’s eyes slid appreciatively along the man’s arms before flashing back up to his face when he laughed again. Hanzo recalled glimpsing the man a few times before. A wave or two in the halls in Hanzo’s direction, but no long conversations. What had his name been…?

“Baptiste!” Genji clapped him on his shoulder and tore him from his thoughts. “He’s a medic. And, he’s relatively new too - two months I believe? Maybe a bit longer?”

“He is a medic?”

“Combat medic. Plus you’re both problem children, that’s what Winston said anyway.”

Hanzo gave him an unamused look. “I am not a child.”

“Still. Give it some thought, brother. Baptiste has been helping Angela some. He’s a good man and well…,” Genji mulled over his words. “...He is not close with me. So you shouldn’t receive any judging looks.”

So his brother was aware of the other agents' treatment of him. He was both embarrassed and irritated in equal measures. No doubt his brother had personally taken it upon himself to try and appeal Hanzo to them. Hanzo drained his cup and stood, washing it in the sink before leaving without another word. There weren't any intentions on his part to seek this Baptiste out. But, after a week where walking was getting increasingly more difficult, he finally caved. If Hanzo didn’t like what the man had to say, he’d simply leave.

“Computer - where is Baptiste?”

“Baptiste is currently in the medical ward. Should I send word that you will require his presence?”

“Unnecessary, I shall go to him.” Hanzo grit his teeth against the flare of pain that rocketed through his legs as he stood. Once he took a steadying breath, he made his way quickly through the halls.

Once he arrived, Hanzo didn’t waste any time stepping into the room. He didn’t want to risk second guessing his decision. While he considered it a weakness to admit that such a small thing was bothering him, it’d be worse to fall in the midst of battle because of it. There was quiet music playing through the room in a language Hanzo didn’t understand. A contrast to how quiet it’d been while Mercy had worked. Everything else was the same, stark white medical beds lining one side and tools neatly organized on a workspace. Two desks - instead of the one he was told it used to be - sat side by side. Baptiste was humming along to the music as he typed away at a laptop.

When the doors slid open the man turned around and blinked. “Oh - what’s up? Er, Hanzo right?”

“Yes.”

“Baptiste.” Baptiste turned in his chair, typed one last thing into the laptop before shutting it and turning it back around. He stood and stretched before walking over to Hanzo, sticking out his hand while smiling. “Sorry. I don’t think I ever got to greet you. Bad manners, I know, I don’t make it a habit. They keep a man busy and your brother said you liked your space so…”

“I do,” he said simply. He eyed Baptiste’s hand before grasping it. The man’s hands were rough - a combat medic indeed.

“Then I don’t think you came here just for a proper introduction,” he teased, stepping back. “How can I help?”

Straight to the point, he liked this Baptiste already. He’s sure by now Mercy would have asked him many questions before getting to the point. The words doctor and combat medic were two different things after all. Hanzo walked over to one of the beds and sat down, rolling up his pants leg to reveal his prosthetics. Baptiste grabbed a chair and rolled it over to take a closer look.

“May I?” Baptiste asked.

“You may,” He said. Baptiste’s hands were sure but careful as he began his inspection. “My knees have been having flare ups. Something I have dealt with before but they have been especially bad. Itching and burning are amongst the side effects.”

“I see.” Baptiste whistled, face concentrated as he carefully prodded where the prosthetics met his flesh leg - watching for reactions. The area was red and inflamed. He glanced up at Hanzo, face pinched in concern. “When was the last time you removed your prosthetics?”

“.....,” Hanzo stared at Baptiste thoughtfully. “Hm.

“.....”

“...Sometime before Overwatch perhaps?”

Baptiste looked very unamused and Hanzo felt slightly abashed. He looked away as the man rolled away and sighed, muttering about ‘Who’s worse? Cassidy or You?’. Hanzo watched him rummage around in the drawers before returning with a few items in hand. They were set on a table nearby.

“I’m not going to lecture you because frankly I’m 100% sure you know you’re supposed to remove them frequently so they can take a break, right?”

“Yes. I’m no fool.”

Baptiste stared at him for a second and Hanzo felt a flare of irritation. Finally, the man looked away and sighed. He busied himself with organizing some of the things he’d gathered. “Look. I know a little about you and your brother. I’m no angel either, so I get it - really. Being surrounded by people who know what you’ve done can put you a little on edge, so you don’t want to be weakened around them, right?”

Hanzo scowled. But, even if he wanted to lash out and deny such claims, he couldn’t. Even before Overwatch he’d go long periods without removing his legs. Hanzo wanted to be able to run in any given circumstance.

“I didn’t sleep for a week straight when I first got here. Too busy trying to meet and familiarize myself with everyone in an attempt to get comfortable. Then I passed out while training, which wasn't a pretty sight.” Baptiste said. He passed Hanzo some of the items. “But, if you don’t let your legs take a break they’ll only get worse. At best you’ll just need new prosthetics, at worst you’ll be banned from missions for awhile while you recover. If something happens during those times you won’t be able to run at all.”

Two of the items were separate types of pain medication, while the others were a mix of warm and cold compresses. Hanzo glanced at Baptiste through his lashes unhappily. “Then when do you suggest I find the time and place?”

“In your room, or somewhere else. You’re an assassin right? I’m sure you’ve scoped out this area and found a few secluded areas, don’t lie,” Baptiste said. He held his hands up defensively when Hanzo glowered at him. “Or, you could do so in here or my room - I won’t do anything. Cassidy’s entrusted me with his arm a few times, so you could ask him -”

“I will not be asking that cowboy anything,” Hanzo said. At the least, his brother wasn’t suggested. Baptiste seemed to know he wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion.

Baptiste nodded and rolled away to give Hanzo space to stand. “If the pain persists, swing by again and I can take another look.”

“...Thank you.” Hanzo bowed his head stiffly before leaving the room. He wasted no time in returning to his room. It took an hour before he worked up the courage to actually follow Baptiste’s advice. After instructing the computer to put his room on shut down, he removed his legs - immediately feeling a slight relief. It was only heightened when he took the medication and pressed one of the compresses against the area. Hanzo sighed as his muscles relaxed minutely. He’d only meant to leave them off for a bit, but it was such a difference to the pain he’d ended up falling asleep.

Even after one day, the difference was becoming obvious. At least that’s what Genji said. The lights lit up on his visor when he stepped into the mess hall.

“You look your age now, brother!”

“What is that to mean?”

Genji didn’t elaborate, just turning to wave at Baptiste from across the hall. Who, upon seeing the both of them, waved back happily.

“Don’t forget my offer Hanzo!” Baptiste called. It drew a few unwanted eyes in his direction that had his eyebrow twitching.

“Do not ask.” He muttered to Genji before sitting down.

[lorabeyc]

Selena Thatcher, My OC 🌊🌊

Selena Maeve Thatcher (or Just Selena) 

First Name: Selena

Last name: Thatcher ( Her Earth family name) 

Name Origins: Greek Origin, Goddess Of the moon, From Selene Goddess of moon 🌕

Date of birth: 15 June 

Age: 38 Y.O

Gender: Female 

Siblings: Morgana (younger sister) 

Sexuality: Heterosexual. 

Zodiac: Gemini. 

Species: Embophidian, Hydromancer. 

Skin colour: Medium

Body type: Slim woman, Slender too. 

Phobias: Thanatophobia (fear of losing someone you care about) 

FOMO: Fear of missing out.

Ambiguphobia: fear of being misunderstood. 

Arachnophobia: Fear of spiders. 

Fear of Water being polluted or dirty. 

Phillias: 

Thalassophile: lover of the sea. 

Aquaphilia: Lover of water 

Lover of quietness (sadly that has no term) 

Lover of Aquariums. 

Lover of sea-creatures. 

Caeruleaphile: lover of blue colour. 

Porphyrophile: lover of purple colour. 

Hair colour: Pink.

Eye colour: deep Blue.

Current location: Moirvdonne, UK.  

Face claims: Noami Scott.

VA: Esmé Bianco, (The VA of Eclipsta in svfoe)

Alignment: Good.

Status: Alive.

Affiliation: 

FBI. 

Moirvdonne Police, Sheriff. 

Wartb Gang. 

Likes:

Singing.

Dancing.

Cooking.

Drawing.

playing chess set

watching TV

reading a book.

Mediating in water.

Casual clothes, Grunge too. 

Water aesthetics, sea aesthetics, and such.

Children.

Fighting crimes.

Helping others.

Healing others.

Stand and fight for justice. 

Friends and family.

Coffee.

Nature.

Sea.

Water, everything that is water-form.

Loving, compassionate, Understanding, and helpful if others need her. 

Loves  to play Video games with Selviya.

Loves to Learn Magic with Aliyaa. 

Glamours gowns.

Glamours tiaras. 

Sushi, Pesto Pasta.

 

Dislikes: 

Evil-doers

Killers/murderers

sexists.

Racist.

Bigots.

Using religion for one’s profit. 

Bad manners.

Evil.

Backstabbing.

Hates Slither to the core.

Hates autumn. 

Her friends and loved ones getting harmed or killed.

When someone is rude.

Conflicts.

Wars.

Crimes.

Hatred.

using magic for evil purposes.

She is quick to anger and she hates it. 

Hates bobba tea, don’t ask her why. 🤫

Speed: 9.5/10.

Agility: 10/10.

Intelligence: 9/10.

Strength: 10/10.

Stamina 9/10.

Stealth: 10/10.

Cooperation: 10/10.

Durability: 10/10.

Flexibility: 10/10.

Reflexes: 10/10.

Instincts: 10/10.

Family: 

Kung Lao (Alive).

Thomas Lao Older son (Alive).

Layla Lao's second child (Alive).

Friends and Allies:

Aliyaa Aepel @aliyaaaepel3

Selviya Levsloky @aliyaaaepel3

Scylla Aepel @aliyaaaepel3

Arouj Roman @aliyaaaepel3

Hadi Aepel @aliyaaaepel3

Derek Monrik @aliyaaaepel3

Eveie Al’shayle. @aliyaaaepel3

Layla Buyunii. @aliyaaaepel3

Sailor Mona. @monapome

Jayce Nilson @kyd35

Sphinx. @aliyaaaepel3

Sarah @alexapenz

Heynois. @aliyaaaepel3

Mila. @mollyb9

Molly. @melissalix

Lana. @noelle9

Eliena De Vil. @lisadelise

William Mo’lain (Mayor of Moirvdonne) 

Cecila Smith. 

Anthony Mccbride. 

Cassie Cage.

Johnny Cage.

Sonya blade.

Jacqui Briggs.

Jax Briggs.

Kuai Liang.

Kung Lao (Husband). 

Smoke.

Liu Kang.

Cyrax.

Takeda Takahashi

Hydro (Malibu Comic Character 😭) 

Not Friends or enemies: 

Kitana.

Jade.

Sindel.

Scorpion/ Hanzo Hasashi.

Fujin.

Raiden.

Sheeva.

Goro.

Kintaro.

Kung Jin.

Shujinko.

Frost.

Geras.

Baraka

The Oshh-tek Guards

The Kahn-Guards. 

Enemies: 

Rain (Arch-enemy, In MK)

Silther (Arch-enemy, In Moirvdonne)

Mileena

Tanya

Shao Kahn

Kotal Kahn

Erron Black

Kabal

Skarlet

Kano 

Shang Tsung

Cetrion

Kronika 

Shinnok 

D’Vorah 

Kollector

In relationship with Kung Lao. 

Status: Married to Kung Lao (Canon, Because I Said So 🫸) 

Powers: 

Hydrogenic.

Wave manipulation.

Water manipulation. 

Hydrokinesis.

Water generation. 

Water detection.

Water purification. 

Whirlpool generation. 

Water absorption.

Can control Water and Sea, If she is angry the sea is becoming rough and angry too like her. 

She caused a horrible Tsunami once because she was angry and she is still regretting this. 

Levitation, (Can fly only in her magical girl form) 

She can easily heal people, any type of illness, and damage. 

She is very skilled in Muay Thai and Judo. 

Has magical girl abilities

She is a very strong and skilled Hydromancer, that’s why Rain is after her. 

Create whips out of the water and they are dangerously sharp. 

Creates Storm blades too.

magical girl outfit:

 

Personality: 

Selena is nice to people who are nice to her, she helps anyone in need, she is generous, and kind, she is very monstrous when it comes to fighting, she is humble, loving, and understanding of others, she is a stylish woman, she likes etiquette too. And a huge consumer of coffee ☕️. 

Finally, it took from me forever to finish this! That’s all of Selena Thatcher 🌊

@aliyaaaepel3 @lisadelise @melissalix @alexapenz @noelle9 @loryeenb @monapome @florafoom @kyd35 @kuaifan

[frozenbound]

Shimadacest headcanon #66 (featuring Lifeguard Cassidy):

(Continuation of Shimadacest Headcanons #63, #64, and #65)

Genji continues humping Cassidy all the way up to their floor and all the way down the hallway, the lifeguard breathing increasingly heavy from Genji's muscular mass hanging off of him and the feel of his large endowment slotting between his buttocks, foiled only by the thin material of his swimming trunks.

It doesn't help that, right when the elevator doors opened to reveal no one else in sight, Hanzo firmly thrust his hand into the trunks' pocket and began fondling his weeping cock.

Like nearly all swimming trunks, the pockets are a very thin mesh, and Hanzo is able to rub his thumb against Cassidy's slit and coat his skin with precum almost as though there was no barrier between them at all.

The cowboy's bulge was not the least bit deceiving. He's at least as big as Hanzo and Genji, and Hanzo's mouth is watering at the prospect of tasting it.

So much so, in fact, that when they arrive at their room and Hanzo is forced to withdraw his hand in order to unlock it, he first licks off the cowboy's tang off his thumb, and both Cassidy and Genji's eyes go hot and molten at the sight.

"Told you," Genji breaths into Cassidy's ear.

"I believed you," Cassidy replies, watching Hanzo's mouth with pupils already blown wide.

Hanzo smirks, opens the door, and waves them in.

He doesn't miss the fact that Cassidy doesn't even glance at the posh, elegant suite they enter. He has no eyes for the sitting room with the plush leather couch and holoscreen TV, the full-sized bar, or the double king-sized bed visible through an open doorway. He steps in, but he keeps looking at Hanzo, turning in place and watching him carefully prop the umbrella against the wall and set down the bag.

Genji hasn't missed it, either. He's grinning at Hanzo like a madman over the lifeguard's shoulder.

"I got him warmed up," he announces.

"Good. Get down and help me," Hanzo replies as he turns around and strides right up to the lifeguard.

And pulls down his swimming trunks as he kneels to the floor.

The lifeguard is obviously thrown off-balance, both literally and figuratively, as Genji drops off of him and Hanzo leans forward to draw in a breath of tangy, savory, salty scent of a man who has just spent hours basking and sweating in the summer sun by the seashore.

"Dinner is served, Genji," Hanzo purrs.

They move as surely as though they have discussed or even rehearsed, with Genji closing in to lick at the lifeguard's weeping slit while Hanzo engulfs one of his heavy testicles in his mouth, both moaning with hearty approval at the textures and flavors they find there.

The lifeguard groans in response and says, his voice a little shaky, "You guys sure work well together."