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fortheloveofleon · 6 months

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So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

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katsukikitten · 1 year

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Thinking about Katsuki showing up on your balcony late at night, knuckles knocking at the glass door beside your bed waking you up with a surge of adrenaline.

He's tired from his hero work and he hasn't had a chance to see you in weeks, not that he was obligated, the two of you using each other for weeks.

The real shock comes to you as you see pro hero Dynamight glaring at you from the cold, welcoming him into your apartment and realizing quickly that you've been fuck buddies with a pro and this is how you've found out.

He doesn't speak, he's tired, utterly exhausted and for some reason his tired body brought him here. Normally, when he'd show up at the front door of your apartment, he was on you in a second, making your knees weak with teeth gnashing kisses.

Tonight he looks dead on his feet.

"You okay?" Your voice is feather soft at 3am and when he doesn't answer you decide silence is best for now. Grabbing onto his large fingers only made larger by his gloves. Guiding him to your bathroom where you crank the shower and turn the light on low.

Here you can see the blood, dust, and grime that sticks to his hero uniform, one of the long sleeves ripped or burned away. Hopefully from his own quirk.

Gingerly you start with his gloves. Pulling at the Velcro at his wrists, shimming them off slowly as if he were a startled animal. He just looks down at you with this look in his eyes you can place, you just know it makes your stomach churn with far too many emotions.

Next you grab onto his heavy gauntlets, careful to set them down easily when you hear them slosh with sweat that he'd later deem too old and dangerous to keep but for now he lets your hands work. Manicured fingers undoing his grenade belt, placing them on top of his bracers, then the piece at his shoulders, before bending over to grab his steel knee pads.

Hooking your finger into he tongue of his steel toe combat boots, undoing the knot and loosing the strings while gently guiding his weight to one foot and then the other to remove them. Then again, pulling off his socks with ease placing them in your dirty hamper even if they'd make the whole thing smell like caramel and musk.

Pushing the hem of his shirt up, revealing the hard plans of his body. The one he earned through hard work and resolve. Discipline that he executed in every aspect of his life except with you.

He helps you by raising his arms until that too ends up in the basket in your linen closet. As if you'd do the laundry for his hero uniform.

Like he belonged here. Solidifying the fleeting thought when you pull his pants and boxers down, tossing them in before shutting the closet door.

When you go to leave he grabs onto the crook of your arm, still looking down at you from the corner of his eye with that sad, angry and almost numb look, like his eyes were dying embers.

"You'll stay." Only Bakugou has the ability to pose what is normally a question into a statement, a command and yet he doesn't sound demanding tonight.

So you stay, turning back around and when you realize he isn't getting under the burning hot stream of water, you begin to strip from your underwear and one of his old t shirts you managed to steal.

Grabbing onto his fingers, stepping into the shower and when the steam hits his back he audibly groans, similar to the sound he makes when he sinks into you.

After a few long moments you let your hand grab at the nape of his neck, pulling him to you as you later your heavily scented shampoo in your hands. He tries not to let his cock jump at the domesticity, at the idea that he'll smell like you for hours after.

Let's your nails rake at his scalp and lather his hair before you force him to rinse, repeating again when you decide he's dirty enough for a second wash through.

Lathering the conditioner with care and making him step just out of the stream as you grab your body wash. Another sigh leaves him as he watches you. He knows from your perspective all Bakugou can see you as is a sex object, a cock sleeve, but from the second he first slipped into your heat it was anything but.

It's why he kept coming back.

You drew the line in the sand after the second time, "fuck buddies don't catch feelings right?" "Right." He had confirmed gruffly, like he didn't already think he was falling for you. He knows it seems he always left right away but eventually, over the past few months, he left some things. That shirt you peel off your pretty skin not too long again for starters. He'd cook you meals for the week with the excuse that it was so you'd stay healthy enough to take his cock.

But really he was tired of seeing the evidence of take out or quick meals in your trash can and the bags under your eyes. Since he's been leaving the prepped containers for you, your health has seemed to improve.

It stings when you go over his shoulder, a small gash he didn't know he had and you care for it gently.

"It's deep." Concern in your tone as you talk to yourself, "It shouldn't need stitches...."

Your brows are furrowed up, biting your pouty bottom lip between your teeth as you think. But all he can think about is you, you, you.

And how you make him feel and how the last thing you said to him, although you truly do not remember, is I love you while his hand was around your throat.

The three words claw up his, raw and biting tired of being shoved down deep into his belly where butterflies die the second they're born.

"I love you." It slips past his tired tongue, his body weak from the sight of you combined with his 48 hour on call shift.

You look up at him, shocked, tears pricking your eyes in disbelief as you blink furiously, "What?"

A bit of his roughness returns to his stiff limbs, fingers grabbing at your jaw like he does when he doesn't approve of your response when you fuck.

"I said," He's growling, brushing his nose gently with yours, "I love you."

He doesn't give you room to reply or reject him, his lips finding yours, pressing hard enough your teeth gnash against his. Tongue claiming his stake on what's his making you sigh into his lips as the realization hits you.

Maybe, just maybe, he's always loved you.

#kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛🖋️#bakugou fluff #katsuki fluff

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sommerregenjuniluft · 4 months

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@jegulus-microfic january 30 - uneven - 983words - cw: nsfw!, spanking, degradation

aka when a haircut gone wrong turns into bending ur husband over the kitchen counter and ****** his ***** until ******* and he ******** *** ***

“It’s uneven.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It’s uneven, James.”

“You– she’s just sitting improperly, her head bent at an angle,” his fiancée replies, in a there you have it way.

Regulus levels him with a flat look, “You’ve cut our daughter bangs and they’re uneven.”

“The hair kept falling into her eyes! It was bothering her,” James’ tone is defensive.

Regulus stares down at the picture on James’ phone, regarding the line of Harrie’s bangs as they fall crookedly over her small forehead, grin as wide and toothy as always, pigtails equally askew. She’s running around in kindergarten like that right now none the wiser.

When he looks up to raise an eyebrow at James this one snatches up his phone and pockets it with a huff, grumbling under his breath.

Behind them the electric kettle clicks, signaling that the water is boiled, so Regulus turns his back to face the shelves in search of a mug and tea bag.

“As if you would’ve done any better.”

An incredulous scoff rips from the back of Regulus’ throat.

It sounds like James is gnashing his teeth when he growls, “What?”

Regulus casually goes about preparing his tea. “Oh, miles, baby.”

James sounds closer when he speaks next, making Regulus shiver, “You’re a brat.”

“Your ego is too big,” Regulus spits back.

“Yeah, well, something’s gotta match the cock.”

There’s a second of still silence where they’re both not moving, disbelieving over if James just actually said that out loud.

Then Regulus head whips around and he fixes the other with a narrow glare. “Excuse me?”

He can see the moment something flips inside James and he decides, wether that be reasoned or not, to just fucking roll with it. “You heard me.”

Regulus feels his face pull into a sneer, “Yes and I’d actually rather impale my eardrums with a toothpick before it happens again.”

Now it’s James’ turn to scoff before he steps closer, “Yeah, like you didn’t moan about it last weekend on date night.”

James cages Regulus against the counter and all he can do is turn his back to him again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Warmth settles over Regulus’ back as James crowds his space, breath hot over the shell of his ear. “Fuck, Jamie,” he whines in imitation of Regulus, “So big, feels so good, ah- yes, yes! Please, harder, ’m gonna—”

Regulus knuckles are turning white against the counter. He’s not sure he’s still breathing.

James nuzzles Regulus’ curls with his nose, hips grazing the swell of his ass, “Begging for it like a slut.”

Regulus gasps sharply, “Merde– shut up.”

Soft lips come down on his neck, spit slick, and Regulus is trembling.

“I love when you’re good for me like that, Reg,” James murmurs breathily, “Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

He punctuates the questions by pressing his crotch directly into Regulus’ ass, the grey sweatpants doing nothing to hide the thick line of him.

A moan tumbles out of him involuntarily.

James gives a pleased hum before he sucks on that same spot on Regulus’ neck, “That’s it, baby.”

Mindlessly, Regulus pushes back, arousal shooting through him when James groans softly.

“C’mon, love, I know just how sweet you can be for me.”

It’s a wonder Regulus manages to shake his head.

“Yeah, you are,” James insists, “Doesn’t always have to be only once I fuck you stupid on my fat cock.”

Regulus grits his teeth, “You’re impossible.”

James sighs displeased, a mournful little thing that makes Regulus’ head dizzy, “Fine, the hard way then.”

In one swift movement he pulls Regulus back by the hips, yanks down his own black sweats and spanks him right across one ass cheek.

Regulus is helpless to do anything but cry out in pleasure, the sting seeping through the flesh and concentrating between his legs, making his cock twitch where it bobs heavy in the air.

“Try again,” James says, voice dangerously neutral and massaging his throbbing cheek.

Regulus bites down on his tongue, then presses out, “You’d be lucky to be considered average.”

A chuckle and then another swing, sharper than the first and the sound of it reverberating off their kitchen tiles.

Regulus whimpers a strangled noise which turns into a downright pitiful whine when James roughly spits on his exposed hole.

“Oh, you like that, huh, baby?” James taunts, hooking a thumb into his rim, breaching for a moment just to retreat again.

Traitorously, his hips push back on the finger.

“Aren’t you greedy?” James comments, “I want you to use your words though.”

“James.”

His husband tzks.

Regulus has to squeeze his eyes shut tightly, chin crinkling, lip wobbling, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Another hit when Regulus doesn’t give an answer fast enough, this on right on the crease of his thigh. More spitting, landing carelessly on the meat of his ass and slowly trickling between his cheeks.

It takes a moment for Regulus to realize the sound in the kitchen is his own whine. “More, please.”

James hums above him, leaning over him to kiss at his neck. “Just a little bit more specific, baby. I know you can do it.” He punctuates the demand by teasingly swiping two fingers through the spit and prodding at his entrance but not slipping them in.

Regulus grits out a harsh pant, thighs starting to tremble. His ass stings like a bitch and his cock is throbbing, hard and neglected and all he can think about is that he wants James’ teeth in the nape of his neck. The overwhelming desire to be good and pliant as he gets utterly annihilated.

“Breed me, Jamie.”

His husband curses, voice strangled, and then he proceeds to fuck him so hard Regulus doesn’t know up from down anymore.

They have to call Effie and Monty to pick Harrie up from kindergarten one and a half hours later.

#this started out as mild bickering and it jsut went downhill SO fast.#idk even what this is tbh #*sigh*#i dont rly like the ending #anywayz #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus dads #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #lune’s tiny fic

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leezlelatch · 2 months

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Silver Lining

18+. MDNI

Terzo x F! Reader. bj, p in v, dirty talk, the big o, messy aftermath.

Terzo’s legs curl around your shoulders, heels digging into your back. His forehead is slick with sweat, black hair pushed back and wet from the shower you so deviously interrupted in your endeavor to have him below you.

You lie pretty between his legs, eyes closed and focused as you take his cock deeply into your mouth. You pull back ever so slowly, running your tongue along the shaft until your lips wrap around and suck at the tip, swallowing that perfect bead of cum which pearls at his slit. You pull away, to the frustration of your lover by the way his thighs tighten around your head, and you watch in fascination as another drop forms and descends. You follow its path with your tongue, licking a long stripe up his cock and back to the head. Terzo’s hips jump and he growls, a sound deep in his throat. His fingers rope through your hair and tugs, urging you to keep sucking him as you were before - deep and unyielding.

He keeps a hold of you, guiding your bobbing head. “Look at you,” he coos, his voice breathless and deep. “That mouth has never looked better than impaled on my cock.”

You moan softly, the vibration ripping a hiss from him, and he grins, pushing his hips upward to nearly choke you with the length of him. You sputter and pull back, and Terzo sits up, encasing your head with his hands and urging your face into his lap. “You have no idea how deeply I will fuck you,” he whispers, sliding a hand down the length of your back as you set your own pace once more. “You love your Papa, hm? Si, I know. Ah, fuck, keep going. I know. The only one. You would have been Mama. You should have been. Mmmf. Yes, amore. Let them gnash their teeth in fury when they see you in my colors.”

You pull away and try to sit up, but Terzo’s hands hold you fast. “Terzo,” you try, your voice thick with concern. He chuckles softly, brushing your hair from your face, and grasping your chin to press a kiss to your lips.

“You know I am a talker, eh? It is okay,” he says. You push upward and he allows it this time, his hands falling to your arms when you face him, slowly sliding them up and down. His heavy cock juts upward between you, slick with spit and cum, and momentarily forgotten.

“I loved you then, and I love you now, and I will love you forever and ever and even after,” you whisper to him, your gaze unwavering from the mismatched gaze which looked almost glassy with memory. There would be time to talk, time to unpack what the Clergy has done, but in this moment…in this moment the only thing you want to do is love him.

Terzo’s gaze clears and he smiles very gently, his fingers brushing against your cheek. He draws you in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and then your nose, and finally your lips. “Va bene, patata. Ti amo.” Terzo grabs at your waist, urging you forward. “Now come here.”

You slip into his lap and his hand grips beneath your thigh, lifting you in order to drag his cockhead back and forth between your slick folds. The sensation makes you both groan. “Soaked,” Terzo huffs, sounding pleased, proud. His cock finds your entrance and you make a noise, startled and needy all at once, and Terzo kneads your ass cheek with his other hand, reaching lower to spread you and accommodate the stretch.

His cock draws deeper, dragging against your walls, licking them with fire that shoots straight into your lower belly, urging a high pitched keen from your lips. He bottoms out in one swift movement that takes your breath away and you sit still against him for a moment, face buried in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you in a deep embrace, cradling you against his chest, his lips dotting kisses to your cheek, or any part of your skin he can reach.

“That is my girl,” he whispers his devotion. “You did it. Took it so well. You always do.” He adjusts you with careful movements, his cock encased in your heat, and you feel him jerk, hips stuttering, the smallest thrust driving the two of you to madness. Your hands grip his shoulders, and his hands grip your waist, and you begin to rock.

You’re not entirely sure who’s doing the most movement, in perfect synchronicity with one another as his cock claims your swollen pussy, the slick back and forth a delicious symphony of sex. Terzo doesn’t hold back with you, he never has, curses and moans, frantic gasps and whimpers falling from him at a rapid pace. One hand leaves your waist to cradle your jaw, keeping your gaze locked on his. You’re sure your expression must match his, entirely debauched, flushed, thoroughly fucked. He brings you forward, sweat soaked foreheads pressing together, his hand reaching under you to press you harder against his cock, your pace becoming frenzied in its intensity.

“Terzo…!” You cry, your voice urgent with your swiftly approaching orgasm. He flashes another grin, fingers clawing your inner thigh as his thumb makes quick circles of your clit. You think you scream as blinding white hot pleasure rips through your body, your hips moving in time with each throb of your clenching pussy. Terzo’s head falls forward and his mouth opens, no noise escaping except chocked air as his cock kicks and spills inside of you, and then finally he shouts, thighs shaking with the effort.

There’s a beat of quiet, the space full of your labored breathing until he falls backward and pulls you with him. The motion slips his sensitive cock from you, and you revel in the feeling of his cum coating your lips and dripping downward. You close your eyes, head pillowed on Terzo’s chest, his heart beating quickly against your ear. Terzo hums and pulls at your arms, and you begrudgingly move your spent body in a position more to his liking, a position where he can see your face and kiss it. His finger draws senseless patterns against your cheek, and he kisses the bridge of your nose.

“I am thinking I am not so upset anymore,” he murmurs. You glance up at him with curiosity and he smiles. “I can be Papa of one. For what sweet music she makes in her worship.”

You snicker and swat at his chest, and Terzo pulls you closer with a laugh, playfully biting your neck with a growl. You squeal and try to move away, but his hand captures your chin and silences you with a kiss. It is tender and sweet, gentle and unhurried, and when you part, you see the happiness in his eyes. Because he is. Finally. Terzo is happy.

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus terzo #terzo emeritus #papa iii x female reader #terzo x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #mdni

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leakyweep · 11 months

Text

Meg I would go to the ends of this EARTH to write you a young Shanks fic <3 @downforsanji

Warnings: First time (both Shanks and reader), Afab reader, Shanks is 20, penetration, condom lol, dick riding, not proofread MINORS DNI

Songs to listen to to enhance the mood; "Morning Sex" by Ralph Castelli, "Maniac" by L.Dre, Nessence.

Shanks placed his hand on the plush, soft skin of your thigh, squeezing softly as he placed his knee between your legs on the bed. You both were inexperienced teens; and at 19 after being apart of one of the most vicious pirate groups at the time, you didn't have much time for things like this, neither did Shanks.

Now that he was leaving you to start his own journey, he felt it was the time to show you how much he cared for you, and how much he wanted you to feel good. However, he had never done this before, and the way his breath hitched as your hand ran over his naked hardness made you smile gently.

"What do you like?" You asked tenderly, pushing some of those crimson locks from his face as his hand squeezed the apex of your thigh. His fingers danced at your waistline, wanting to caress the most intimate parts of your amazing body.

"I-" He looked away, his cheeks deepening to a hue comparable to his soft hair. "I dunno. Never done this before."

You chuckled gently, your puffy lips connecting to the crown of his head as you changed the position, straddling his waist with your legs. Your supple breasts hung before him, drawing him to grab them with desperation and put them in his mouth, sucking gently almost like it was natural to him.

"Mm-" You hummed, a pleasant smile gracing your features, hips grinding against his own hungry gnashing, "Then let's find out together, yeah?"

You grabbed the condom from the bedside table, ripping it open with your teeth as Shanks could only watch in awe, his length bobbing at the sight of you. He sucked his teeth at the pressure of the rubber around his head, squeezing him in the most teasing way it made precum bead at his slit.

You positioned your hips above his length, lining his red mushroom head to your entrance, savoring the way it brushed against your tight walls there. Slowly, you sat down on his cock, both of your moans delectable at the way you both felt. Inch by inch, your gasps increased, trying to get used to this foreign feeling.

Shanks reveled at the way your pussy felt squeezing his cock, every fat inch of it. You were sitting on him now, bouncing slowly to start a rhythm and lull him into grabbing your ass, guiding your body up and down his cock as he pushed his dick up to meet your pussy perfectly. He couldn't describe the feeling; all those times he had pretended his hand was your cunt was for naught as he felt the real thing, almost coming prematurely at those whimpers of his name. He needed to slow down.

Your pussy was in so much pain; you had never been filled like this. Your fingers were the only thing you had to pleasure yourself, and they were nothing compared to the stretch his cock left in your cunt, the burn becoming a pleasurable feeling after a few moments of bouncing on his length. The way his cock curved perfectly to rest the head against your g-spot, it made you pussy pulse and beg for an orgasm.

"Like that," he moaned, relishing the way your hips slapped against his yearningly. His hands held your weight in those strong palms by your ass, and your legs kneeled on either side of him now, giving him full control. He was lost in the desire, in the pleasure; nothing he had ever done had felt like this.

The sounds coming from your lips, like a prayer to a higher power as you chanted his name, was intoxicating to him. No one had ever wanted him like this-- sweaty and desperate and chasing an orgasm that was a moment away. The way his hands lifted your body up and down on his dick, shaking the fat of your ass as he watched it recoil with a loud groan, was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-Shanks, fuck-" you sighed through hot breaths, leaning down so your chest was flush against his. Your lips danced across his skin under his ear, your voice lowering to a whisper as you said, "I'm glad you t-took my virginity."

Without another breath, he was coming, his dick pulsing inside your walls as his spend pooled at the end of the condom, still pushed deep inside of you as you felt the waves of your orgasm wash over you as well. Those words had turned him on more than he was before, if that was even possible. Those words bounced around in his head, repeating like a tape.

Shanks couldn't believe the euphoria he had experienced; the way your hot, pulsing walls squeezed his length, sucking in his head and trying to collect as much of him as possible- it was addicting to him. He was convinced he had died and gone to heaven as he lay, catching his breath.

The feeling of being so full while reaching your climax was magnificent. Your fingers would never be enough again. You watched his face contort in pleasure as you chased your own orgasm, hips stuttering against his own. Stars danced across your vision, your moans slowly dissipating into soft pants.

After the dazed look left your eyes and Shanks' heavy breathing subsided, you both turned to each other.

"Wanna do it again?" Shanks asked mischievously, a smirk adorning his features with that glint in his eye that told you there was only one answer.

#i hope yall enjoy!!!#shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks x reader smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut #shanks #liv writes

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velvette-creations · 15 days

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The softest hearts always have the toughest shields

Hazbin Hotel: Lute x Seraphim!Reader

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.2 k

Prompt: Wound Care for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Blood, injury, stitches, needles, mild angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You tend to Lute after she returns to heaven in the aftermath of the extermination

To say Adam’s death caused panic and chaos in Heaven was an understatement; there were very few times when you saw Sera shaken to her core. Dread and hysteria chimed through the realm as hard truths came to fruition; angels could be killed, and souls in hell could be redeemed. The misfortune of Adam’s demise and the appearance of Sir Pentious as a redeemed soul had dealt her two blows, leaving her at a loss for words while Emily flitted away happily. She gushed over the new arrival, immediately showing him around.

“Please tend to Lute,” Sera whispered, gently touching your arm as the exterminators ascended back into the Heavenly Realm.

“Of course,” you assured her, noting that the eyes on her wings looked solemn and heavy.

Blood oozed from Lute’s amputated arm as she stumbled forward, rage emanating from her entire body. Adam’s halo and her sword clattered to the ground. Her teeth gnashed, fingers digging into her flesh as she attempted to slow the bleeding. You stepped forward, gently placing your hands on her shoulders.

“Come, let me tend to you,” you murmured, flying over to a more private area. You had always admired Lute’s brash attitude and brute strength; you held a soft spot in your heart for her. She had suffered the pain of ripping off her own arm to save her life. You could never handle being an exorcist; the very idea made you blanch with horror. While you often kept your opinions to yourself, you had been happy to learn that Charlie Morningstar had been correct in her assessment. Could this mean peace? Most likely not considering the angels that fell to their deaths at the hands of hell’s minions.

“Once I’m healed, I’m gonna fly down there and annihilate all their pathetic demonic asses! I’m gonna make them all suffer, tear them limb from limb, and shove their fingers down their fucking throats!” she growled as you pushed her into a chair before manifesting a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. You gently cleaned her wound, wiping the luminous blood away.

“Let’s not be too hasty. You need to heal first. It will take time for your arm to regenerate,” you informed her, waving your hands to produce a spool of silk and a needle.

Confusion etched across her face. “Huh? It will grow back?”

“I see no reason why it shouldn’t.”

“Well fuck me, that’s the best news I’ve gotten all day,” she grumbled, wincing in pain as you began the sutures, working meticulously to ensure the wound was closed correctly. Angelic powers worked wonders, but specific measures must be taken. You pressed your palm to the sutured injury before coating it in your white light to help hasten the healing process.

You reached out to remove Lute’s black exorcist mask before skimming your fingers down her cheek. You noted how she pressed into your touch.“There we go, all done. I’m sorry about Adam. I know you two were close.”

Her shoulders slumped, her facade slowly crumbling as she allowed vulnerability to creep in. Her wings hung limply as tears rolled down her face. You caught her in your arms as she rocked forward, collapsing into your chest as your massive wings wrapped around her, further shielding her and allowing a private alcove for her grief and turmoil. Her tears soaked through your white dress while your hand soothingly stroked her short, white hair. You had never seen her so broken before. However, you had always suspected that a soft center lay beneath her hardened exterior. All the armor and weapons in the world couldn’t shield someone’s true nature or emotions, no matter how hard they fought. The tips of your feathers gingerly caressed her back as she lifted her head as one of your pillowy plumes slipped under her chin.

“You better not tell anyone you saw me cry, or I’ll….” You noted the way her voice cracked.

“Hmm let’s see, you’ll rip my wings off or smash my face in. I get the picture. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, but there is nothing wrong with showing emotion and empathy,” you said, a wry smile twitching on your lips. Lute always was…well, Lute.

She narrowed her eyes before swiping a tightly balled fist under her running nose. “So long as we’re on the same page,” she said.

You nodded to indicate to her that you were before tenderly brushing your fingers over her healing wound. “New skin is starting to form; that’s a good sign.”

“Y…yeah, thanks for patching me up,” she swallowed.

“It’s my pleasure. Part of my duties is looking after you exorcists,” you teased.

“I’m sure Seraphim have more important things to worry about than ripped body limbs,” she sighed, rubbing the area and getting used to the feeling. “What if it doesn’t grow back?”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to learn how to fight one-handed. If anyone can master such a feat, it would be you. You would make sure no one fucked with the one-armed exorcist.”

A small smile fluttered briefly across her face, her nose scrunching slightly. “Hey, maybe I could fuse a sword in place of my arm if it doesn’t regenerate.”

“See? Now you’re looking on the bright side!” You gently swiped your fingers under her eyes, swiping away her remaining tear tracks.

“Thanks for patching me up. You did a good job,” she murmured.

“It was my pleasure, Lute. Don’t forget to take time to grieve,” you said encouragingly as you squeezed her shoulders and stared into her pale yellow eyes.

Your eyes locked with hers for what seemed like an eternity. A pleasant warmth spread through your body as your fingers laced through the fingers of her remaining hand.

“Adam and I were close, but he was never the one I cared about…in that way,” she whispered.

“Oh.’ The word fell softly from your parted lips.

“I have to go see someone, but I’ll find you later?” she asked hopefully.

“Please do.”

You watched as she flapped away with Adam’s halo clutched in her hand. You pressed one hand to your chest as pleasant flutters filled your stomach before whisking away the mess and supplies before seeking out Sera to see if she needed assistance.

“I’m afraid we’re in a mess,” she sighed, rubbing her face.

“Things may seem hopeless now, but we’ll figure it out—we always do. It seems Charlie Morningstar might be on to something with her redemption plan. Hopefully, that will help us avoid an uprising in hell,” you reasoned.

“Let us hope.”

Lute found you that evening as you settled in your chambers, feet snug in cozy, fuzzy slippers as you relaxed and stretched your fluffy wings.

“Are you feeling any pain?” you questioned kindly as you guided her into your room.

“A little bit, but it’s nothing too bad,” she shrugged, “Man, you Seraphim lucked out with your quarters.”

“Part of the perks of being a high-ranking celestial beings,” you teased, gently bumping her with your elbow.

“Hmm, meanwhile, us exorcists do all the dirty work,” she teased, spinning around to face you, mischief sparking in her eyes.

“I must say…you look damn good with an exorcist blade in your hand,” you grinned, moving in closer, towering above her slightly.

Lute rolled onto her tiptoes before pressing her lips against yours. The searing kiss sparked through you.

“How about I show you what my hands can do?” you purred against her warm lips, squeezing her.

“Oh, you’ve read my mind,” she smirked as your wings wrapped around her.

#fic: hazbin hotel #sweetspicyhc #lute x reader #lute imagine #lute hazbin hotel #lute x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel heaven #lute angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hurt/comfort #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lute fanfic

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hollyhomburg · 11 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.55)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Namjoon’s rut hits, and hits hard. Not all of it is pretty. Not all of it is sweet.

Tags: Free use, Rough Fucking, Size kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Knotting, Breeding kink, lactation kink, Group sex, Copious Dirty talk, Praise, Humiliation kink, dumbification kink, Biting, Blood mention, Blood kink, messy sex, Feral! Namjoon, Creampie, cum kink, cumplay, So much cum it’s honestly gross, mommy kink, intercrural sex, briefly implied masochistic! Namjoon, collars, Trans! Tae, dysphoria mention, Jimin indirectly misgenders tae at one point (bad minnie)

W/c: 20k

A/N: Listen, i don’t want to talk about the word count. I’m so excited to stop writing smut for this series for a little bit after this chapter 😭 i’m sorry that i took a few moments to get this up! grieving a longtime friend has been a very tough experience for me but i’m getting better slowly!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

~-~

Chapter 55: Sugarcoat

Out of all the things you didn’t anticipate for Namjoon's rut, it's Jin getting violent.

They pull each other back and forth across the nest, grappling for control. Namjoon would never hurt Jin but his snarls make it seem like he might. Namjoon threatens to nip at jin’s throat, closing, holding onto his skin with his teeth until Jin grabs his jaw and claws at it. Raking his nails down Namjoon's throat leaving deep red lines.

Namjoon tries to press Jin's shoulders down but Jin slaps the alpha clear across the face.

He does that several times.

You watch, nibbling on fruit, Jimin waits with the next slice in his hands completely unbothered by the volatile display in front of you. The rest of the pack doesn't pay the display of aggression any mind either.

Jin kicks at Namjoon’s thigh, gripping his hair and pulling hard enough to rip it out. Namjoon’s canines look particularly sharp in the evening light.

You’re sticky in places that you shouldn’t be sticky, sore in places you wish you weren’t sore. A no-spill mug half full of liquid next to you (an unfortunately necessary precaution that reminds you a little too much of a sippy cup to be completely unshy about it). You'd accidentally knocked Tae's cup earlier. A stain on the edge of the nest sits, red-pink violent messiness.

“Fuck- just fucking- submit” Namjoon grinds out, teeth gnashing menacingly.

“You think I’m going to bed over for a knot as pitiful as yours? Fucking joke of an alpha won’t even fuck me proper-”

You wince as Jin nearly kicks Namjoon’s cock with his next move, trying to get out from underneath the pack alpha. You can’t imagine that would garner a pleasant reaction.

Then again...maybe Namjoon likes that kind of thing a little more than you thought.

None of your packmates seem alarmed at all, even Hobi, who carries various containers of sliced fruit around the nest ducking down to offer them to anyone who might want them. Bare-chested with only his tapered track pants hanging low on his hips, nibble marks up and down his chest and arms. It's a sympathetic predicament; a mark or two peaks out from under your collar too. Not just marks from Namjoon, but bite marks or sucked bruises from all of them too.

Nothing makes the pack want to claim each other like a rut.

"You all good here?" Hobi asks, voice soft and gravely. Jimin nods before you can, a bowl of mango and pineapple balanced between his thighs. Hobi moves on to Jungkook whose making grabby hands at the blueberries. He’s got a bit of dried cum on his cheek and you watch as Hobi produces a wet washcloth seemingly out of nowhere and blots it off.

Your heart clenches.

Jimin doesn’t notice your slightly souring scent, too busy holding onto a slippery piece of mango that he presses against your lips once he notices you’ve swallowed.

So far, Hobi’s been staying on the opposite side of the nest from you during the rut. Whenever it's your turn to take Namjoon's knot he makes sure to look away or pretend to be sleeping. Puts his back to you in the kitchen while he fills up a water jug or rushes downstairs to check on noodle and give him some much needed tlc.

He’s good at keeping himself busy with the packmates; helping clean them up, checking Koo's cock cage (not really necessary, but it's fun to watch the omega squirm). He wipes Namjoon's cum out of Jin and Yoongi's hair. Every gross and mildly satisfying task is a decent distraction from your predicament.

Hobi's doing a good job of not making this weird.

A really really good job.

...

That's a dirty rotten lie, Hobi is a piss poor liar. Even in the confines of his own head lying to himself never works.

The truth is his sanity is hanging on by a flimsy little thread that is sure to snap if he hears you begging for your alpha again. Or if he sees you belly down, or if you even think about trying to fluff the nest and make it perfect for Namjoon to breed you in. If you even glance in his direction. Any of it.

And Jesus Christ, the sounds you make when he's knotting you.

Cute little 'ah ah ah's and squeaks when Namjoon shoves his cock in all the way, Petting over your stomach and giggling “Can feel alpha knocking me up.” Omegaspace dumb and knotted stupid and cute and pretty in the way that-

Hobi’s getting distracted. It’s just the rut pheromones talking.

His alpha howls and claws at his chest as is. Begging Hobi to keep watch and do something awful like hold you while Namjoon fucks you or worse- cuddle you from behind when you sleep. Or do something even more embarrassing like kiss your forehead and tell you you’re doing a good job.

See? Absolutely ridiculous. Everything Hobi's instincts want is absolutely ridiculous.

(Namjoon and Jin might wrestle a little during Namjoon’s rut, but Hobi has a harder battle to to fight)

Coming Saturday July 1st, at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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drarrily-we-row-along · 10 months

Text

Cw: off screen violence

It wasn't that Harry went looking for trouble.

He didn't. Harry had just gone out for a drink and then that antsy, restless feeling in his gut had him out walking. Sucking in the evening air, inhaling the scent of spilled beer and cigarettes, as he strode down the street past the bars, trying to ignore the people staring at him.

No, he hadn't been looking for trouble, but it found him just the same.

A muted shout of pain caught his attention, ears prickling and hairs on his arms raising. Before he could even think, his feet were turning down an alley, leading him toward the noise.

Heart-thudding, adrenaline pumping, he approached the group of men crowded around a body laying on the ground coughing and gagging. An awareness prickled the back of his consciousness, and without physically seeing him, images of white-blond hair and silver eyes, flashed to the forefront of his mind. "Evening, gentlemen," he said, clearing his throat.

The group shifting to look at him was enough for Harry to catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, sprawled on the ground, knees drawn protectively up to his chest as he coughed.

And something inside of Harry snapped, something feral, something vaguely terrifying, even to him. "Move away," he growled.

The man in front crossed his arms over his chest, "and if we don't?" he asked. He grinned, perfect, white teeth on display. "Who cares about this worthless piece of sh-"

"I'd be very careful with my next words if I were you," Harry said, and he could feel his magic hot and bright all but bursting under his skin.

A couple of the men shifted on their feet, glancing around toward the end of the alley. But the man who'd spoken first didn't back down. "What're you going to do?"

"Fuck off, Potter," Malfoy groaned from the ground.

He grinned down at the other man, mouth too full of his teeth, "what, and miss out on the fun?"

"What fun?" the man said, raising his wand at Harry.

Harry looked up at him and watched the blood drain from his face as their eyes met.

He took a staggering step back and almost tripped over Draco, "What are you?" he managed.

"Haven't you read the papers?" Harry asked, sauntering forward. "There's always some new speculation," he added as he looked down at his fingers, watching the talons sprouting from them and resisting the impulse to wince.

He looked up in time to see the men tripping and stumbling, shoving one another as they attempted to leave. He started toward them, grunting as his wings sprouted and ripped through his jacket. With hardly a thought, his wings lifted him into the air and he landed on the other side of the group of men, blocking their exit.

"Not so fast," he said, teeth gnashing together with his words. "You were happy to take him on, four to one," he said, nodding toward Draco. "Happy to fight a man you know can't raise his wand against you to do magic. Here," he added, tossing his wand to the ground, "I'll go without mine too."

"What the fuck," one of the men whispered as he took in the sight of Harry with his black eyes and wings, his talons, his sharp teeth.

"I'll even let you fire first," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Hit me with all that you've got."

One man fired off a stunner and Harry reached out a hand and caught the spell, a bright, red ball of magic that he tossed in the air and caught again.

"Come on," he said, tossing it up and watching as it dissipated into the night sky. "Really try a coordinated effort," he added with a tsk. "Maybe on the count of three?"

All four men raised their wands and a laugh bubbled at the back of Harry's throat at their idiocy, at their predictability. Four spells fired off at once and Harry took a breath, letting time slow down around him as he reached out and plucked the four bursts of light and energy out of the air and held them in his hands. A heartbeat later, he threw the magic down at their feet and the four men stumbled and fell as the ground shook.

The first man to get to his feet started to run, the first intelligent thing any of them had done that evening, in Harry's humble opinion.

Harry held up a hand and the man was frozen in place.

"Let go," he said, begged really, and the other men started to shift restlessly, trying to edge away from him.

"Did he ask you to let him go?" Harry asked, pointing to Draco who was now sitting up and rubbing his rib cage. "Did he ask you to leave him alone?"

"Come on man," the third man said, holding out his hands, "He's a filthy, slimy death-"

"That's enough," Harry said calmly, sealing the man's mouth shut with a wave of his hand. As if by mutual agreement, they decided to leave their frozen friend behind and make a break for it. They started to run and Harry raised his hands and froze them all. "Not so tough anymore, are you?" he said, running a claw over the leader's jaw, angling it so it pricked him and a drop of blood appeared.

"Don't."

He turned when he felt a gentle hand on his wings and looked at Draco. Draco with his black eyes and bruises on his cheek, with blood on his neck, and internal bleeding if Harry's suspicions were correct. A low noise that certainly wasn't human rose in Harry's throat.

"Potter," he murmured. "Don't."

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head at him, turning to look at the men who were frozen in place.

"It's not worth it," he said. When he didn't immediately turn away, Draco slid his hand down his arm and took his hand, "Harry," he said softly.

And he could hear the pain in his voice, could hear the way that he'd just given up. His chest felt too small to contain the fire that burned under his breastbone at what had been taken from the other man. "I'll destroy them," he hissed.

"Harry," Draco repeated, "It's not worth it."

"You're worth it to me," he said, voice hard.

He sighed and shook his head, "Come on. Let them go."

"Confundo," he spit before releasing the men, they staggered, tripping over their own feet and one another as they tried to flee. "Don't ever let me see you with him again," he called after them. "Remember which of us it was who spared your lives."

"So dramatic," Draco said, staggering in the opposite direction.

He summoned his wand to him as he caught up and reached for Draco, "Where are you going?"

"My flat," he replied.

"No," Harry said sharply, taking Draco's hand, carefully retracting his claws so he didn't hurt him. "Come home," he begged. "Let me heal you-"

"We've been through this," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Yes, yes," Harry said, trotting along beside Draco, helping him balance as he staggered. His teeth shrunk back to their normal size and he continued to speak, "You put me at greater risk, I'm going to get caught, the Ministry is going to lock me up-"

"It's not a fucking joke," he spat. "Every single time we're out in public, you end up trying to kill someone for laying their hands on me!"

"Maybe people should stop hurting you," he said casually as he retracted his wings.

"This isn't a fucking joke!" he repeated. "I'm not worth-"

"You're my mate," Harry growled, "Anyone who hurts you should-"

"I'm not worth your life," he said. "Can't you-" he broke off to gasp, doubling over and clutching his rib cage.

"Let me take you home," he begged again. "Let me heal you and we can talk."

"Yes, fine," he snapped and Harry knew that he must be in quite a bit of pain if he was conceding.

He didn't wait for him to change his mind, he wrapped his arm around Draco's waist and apparated them back home. With a quick snap of his fingers, Draco's filthy, bloody clothes had disappeared and Harry lifted him into his arms, carrying him into the bathroom.

"I can walk," he grunted, resentment bubbling in each word, but his arms still clung to Harry weakly.

"I know," he murmured before setting him gingerly on the toilet seat and starting the bath.

In the harsh light of the bathroom, he could see the bruises mottling Draco's body and a noise of discontent rattled around in his chest and throat.

"Let me?" he asked, holding out his hands, already glowing a warm gold.

Draco nodded and Harry slowly, tenderly began touching the bruises, healing the wounds, absorbing the pain into his own body and letting it fade to nothing. When he was satisfied that he'd healed all of him, he stood and pulled off his own clothes before taking Draco's hand.

With a defeated little sigh, Draco let Harry tug him into the bath. Harry sat with his back against the tub and pulled Draco into the cradle of his body, pressing Draco's back against his chest and bracketing Draco's hips with his thighs. He wrapped him in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to the other man's neck.

"I'm ruining your life," Draco murmured, voice soft and sleepy, and Harry could feel the echo of Draco's exhaustion in his own chest.

"Tell me that you don't love me too," Harry whispered back. "Tell me that it's unrequited, that I'm burdening you, that you don't want me."

Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder, his soft, blonde hair tickling Harry's chin. "I can't," he said. "You know I can't say that. But I love you enough to want what is good for you-"

"Then stay," he pleaded. "Draco, I'm out of my mind without you. I'm antsy and anxious, and I can feel it when something bad is about to happen to you. You're my mate," he repeated, voice breaking at the end. "I love you," he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.

"We can't keep doing this, though. You're going to get caught and my life isn't worth yours, there are only so many rumors that the papers can publish before the Ministry-"

"Then let's leave," Harry said.

"Harry-"

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to Draco's neck, "No, think about it. If the only way for me to be with you is for you to stop being attacked so that I'll stop attacking people in return is to leave then let’s just do it. We can see our friends in muggle places or visit their homes, but let's just live in the muggle world."

"I can't let you give up-"

"Give up what?" Harry asked in exasperation. "Draco, everything here is awful, the politics and the games people play, the prejudices. And it isn't like I can even go anywhere without being constantly hounded by reporters. I'm not giving up anything."

Gingerly, the other man turned around, kneeling between Harry’s thighs and taking his face in his hands.

“Please, Draco,” Harry murmured, staring into his eyes, searching them for what was to come. “I love you.”

Draco pressed their foreheads together, “what if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” he promised. “You’re it for me.”

There was a long pause and Harry was certain that Draco must be able to hear the way his heart was hammering in his chest. “Where will we go?”

Light and warmth exploded through Harry’s chest and he leaned up to kiss him tenderly. “I’m glad you asked,” he said, holding out a hand for a file folder that he kept by his bedside. “I’ve got a whole list of places I’ve been wanting to see with you. You’re gonna love it,” he added softly.

Draco slid back into the tub, pressing against Harry. “Show me,” he murmured.

He flipped through the folder, telling him about all of the places he wanted to see. Dreaming, with his eyes wide open, of what it would be like to experience the world with Draco at his side.

And when the water got cold, he wrapped Draco up in a fuzzy towel and brought him to bed. They cozied into the nest of pillows and blankets and Harry talked in hushed tones about his dreams for them until his love fell asleep. Harry hunkered down next to him and drifted off too, dreaming of all their lives might be.

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