queenofdragons12

[queenofdragons12]

Whispers of the Wolf

Pairings:

Dominant Protagonist / Submissive Partner

Alpha / Omega Dynamics (Optional, depending on the setting)

Warnings:

Explicit Sexual Content

Power Dynamics and Mild Dom/Sub Themes

Sensual Violence (e.g., clawing, marking)

Emotional Intensity and Intimacy

Blurb:

When a fierce, untamed alpha crosses paths with a submissive yet resilient partner, their connection ignites a fire that neither can control. Amidst whispered apologies and tender kisses, their bond deepens, marked by moments of vulnerability and unrelenting desire. But as the lines between pleasure and pain blur, they must confront the shadows of their own hearts. Will their love be enough to tame the wolf within, or will it consume them both?

The hum of your office was a familiar comfort—the soft click of your keyboard, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights, and the occasional rustle of papers on your desk. You were deep in thought, fingers dancing across the keys, when the door creaked open. You glanced up, expecting a colleague or perhaps your assistant, but instead, the unmistakable figure of Spider-Man stepped inside. The red and blue suit clung to his muscular frame, the iconic mask hiding his identity.

He moved with a quiet grace, closing the door behind him. For a moment, the room felt electric, charged with an unspoken tension. Then, with a deliberate motion, he reached up and pulled off his mask. His face was a mix of vulnerability and intensity, his eyes locking onto yours. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled you into an embrace. His arms were strong yet gentle, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

As he held you, his hand brushed against your chest, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t invasive or crude—it was tender, almost accidental, as if he was trying to ground himself in the moment. The air between you was thick with unspoken emotions, a collision of worlds that felt both surreal and inevitable.

In that moment, the office faded away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of raw, unfiltered connection.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of papers on your desk. You were deep in thought, fingers idly tracing the edge of your coffee mug, when the door creaked open. You looked up, startled, and there he was—Spider-Man, his iconic suit clinging to his lithe frame, the mask hiding his face but not the intensity in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, your voice soft but laced with concern. He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements deliberate yet hesitant, as if he were battling some internal storm. Before you could react, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his gloved hands brushing against the sensitive skin of your arms. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips grazing a stripe along your pulse point. The sensation was both tender and overwhelming, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I… mate with you?” he whispered, his voice trembling, almost desperate.

You froze, your mind racing. “What are you thinking?” you managed to sputter, pulling him back slightly to meet his gaze. His mask was off now, revealing a face flushed with embarrassment and something else—something primal. He looked away, his cheeks burning crimson.

“I… I’m in heat,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, as if the words were too heavy to carry. The vulnerability in his eyes was raw, unfiltered, and it tugged at something deep within you.

The air between you was thick with tension, a collision of emotions that left you both breathless. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of raw, unfiltered connection.

You blinked, your lashes brushing against your cheeks as you processed his words. “I didn’t know humans could go into heat,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

Peter’s response was a low, almost inaudible mumble, his voice trembling with vulnerability. “It’s… it’s my spider side,” he admitted, his gloved hands hesitating before they began to knead your breasts. The texture of the suit against your skin was strange—smooth yet slightly abrasive, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was gentle but insistent, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh with a rhythm that made your breath hitch.

Your body reacted instinctively. Your tail arched, the muscles tensing as a wave of warmth spread through you. Your wings, usually so controlled, shuddered involuntarily, the delicate membranes quivering with the intensity of the moment. You sighed, a sound that was both surrender and acceptance. “Alright,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “You can mate with me, but I’ll be the one leading this time.”

Peter’s face lit up with relief and gratitude, his smile wide and genuine. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice trembling with anticipation. Without hesitation, he began to strip in front of you, the sound of the fabric rustling as he peeled off his suit. The room seemed to hold its breath as he revealed himself, his skin glistening faintly in the dim light. You followed suit, pulling off your shirt with a deliberate slowness, the fabric brushing against your skin as it slid off your shoulders.

Soon, you were both naked, the air between you charged with an electric tension. Peter’s cock stood at attention, a testament to his arousal. It was thick and veiny, the head flushed a deep red, glistening with a bead of precum. The sight of it made your mouth water, and you couldn’t help but admire the way it twitched slightly, as if it had a mind of its own. The base of his shaft was surrounded by a thatch of dark, curly hair, and the scent of him—musky and primal—filled your nostrils, making your head spin.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the length of him, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He gasped, his hips bucking slightly at the contact. “You’re so hard,” you whispered, your voice husky with desire. He nodded, his eyes dark with need, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

The room felt smaller now, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that moment, it was just the two of you, bound by an unspoken understanding and a connection that defied logic.

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his skin as you wrapped your claws gently around his cock. The sensation made him whimper, a sound that was both vulnerable and desperate. His hips twitched involuntarily, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the veins pulsing under your touch. The precum glistened at the tip, and you couldn’t resist the urge to swipe your thumb over it, spreading the slickness down his length.

“Tell me,” you whispered, your voice low and husky, “do you want my mouth or my pussy? It’s your choice.” His eyes were dark with need, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He shook his head slightly, his voice trembling as he replied, “I don’t care… just… please.” The desperation in his voice sent a thrill through you, and you smirked, enjoying the power you held over him in this moment.

You decided to tease him a little longer, your claws lightly tracing the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned, his head falling back as his hands gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white. “You’re so eager,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “But I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

With that, you leaned down, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating—salty and musky, with a hint of sweetness that made your head spin. You swirled your tongue around the head, savoring the way he shuddered beneath you. His moans grew louder, more desperate, and you could feel his hips bucking slightly, trying to push himself deeper into your mouth.

But you were in control, and you took your time, alternating between deep, slow sucks and light, teasing licks. Your claws continued to stroke the base of his cock, the dual sensations driving him wild. His hands tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as if he needed something to ground him. “Fuck,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “You’re… you’re amazing.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a smirk. “I know,” you replied, your voice teasing. “But we’re just getting started.”

You reached into a box not far away, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic as you pulled out a bottle of lube. Peter’s eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching as he watched you unscrew the cap and squeeze a generous amount onto your palm. The lube was cool against your skin, but it warmed quickly as you began to smear it over his dick. He yelped at the sudden sensation, his hips jerking slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed still, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a mix of anticipation and desperation.

You took your time, spreading the lube evenly over his length, your fingers sliding smoothly along his shaft. The slickness made the friction almost nonexistent, and you could feel the way his cock twitched in your hand, as if it was begging for more. Peter’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tried to keep himself under control. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “You’re… you’re killing me.”

But you weren’t done yet. You leaned back on the bed, spreading your legs and opening yourself to him. The sight of you, so vulnerable and yet so in control, made his eyes darken with need. “Show me how much you want me,” you said, your voice low and commanding. “Prove it to me.”

Peter didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel the way his body trembled with desire. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please touch me. You’re the best mate in the world, and I’ll treat you like a queen. I’ll do anything you want, just… please.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the desperation in his voice. “Good boy,” you murmured, your hand reaching down to stroke his hair. “Now show me what you’ve got.”

Peter leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as his tongue slid inside you. The sensation was electric, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. His fangs brushed against your inner thighs, the sharpness of them sending a shiver down your spine. His tongue moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your pussy, tracing the walls and teasing every nerve. The wet, slick sound of his mouth on you filled the room, and you could feel the heat building inside you, your body trembling with anticipation.

When you grabbed his head and forced him deeper into your pussy, he let out a muffled groan, his hands gripping your thighs as he tried to keep up with your rhythm. The pressure was intense, and you could feel the climax building, your muscles tightening around his tongue. When it finally hit, you cried out, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Peter leaned back, his face glistening with your wetness, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You chuckled softly, your voice teasing as you asked, “Do you even know how good you make me feel?” He blushed, his cock bouncing slightly, heavy, veiny, and thick, a bead of precum leaking from the tip. The sight of him, so desperate and yet so eager, made your heart race.

“I… I just want to make you happy,” he stammered, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re my mate, and I’ll do anything to please you.”

You hummed softly, a low, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through the air, as your fingers found his chin. With a deliberate motion, you tilted his face toward yours, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and commanding. The world seemed to pause, the room holding its breath as the connection between you deepened.

Then, your hand moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, and you pulled—gently at first, but with a firmness that made him yelp. The sound was sharp, a fleeting protest, but you soothed it with another kiss, your lips brushing against his as you whispered an apology, soft and sincere. The moment was a delicate balance of control and care, a dance of dominance and affection.

But then, something shifted. A darker, more primal side of you stirred, rising to the surface like a shadow stretching in the moonlight. Your fingers, now tipped with claws, traced a slow, deliberate path down his shoulder blade. The touch was light at first, almost teasing, but then you pressed harder, the sharp edge of your claw breaking the skin. A thin line of blood welled up, crimson against his flesh, and you felt a thrill of satisfaction, a raw, untamed energy coursing through you.

The air between you was charged, electric, as you held him there, your breath mingling with his, your heart beating in sync with his own. The moment was both intimate and intense, a collision of passion and power that left no room for doubt—you were in control, and he was yours.

Your hand moved with deliberate intent, claws curling around his cock, the sharp edges grazing his sensitive skin. He whimpered, a sound that was both a plea and a surrender, as precum beaded at the tip, glistening like dew on the edge of a petal. You guided him to your entrance, your breath hitching as the warmth of him pressed against you. A moan escaped your lips, his name a whispered prayer, as you felt him push forward, the sensation overwhelming yet intoxicating.

He bucked into you, the suddenness of it drawing a yelp from your throat, the oversensitivity making your body tremble. But then, like a wolf in heat, he began to move, his rhythm primal and unrelenting. Each thrust was a claim, a declaration of need, and you met him with equal fervor, your bodies moving in a dance as old as time. The room was filled with the sounds of your union, the wet slap of skin on skin, the ragged breaths, the soft cries of pleasure.

The intensity of it was almost too much, the pleasure building like a storm within you, threatening to break. You clung to him, your claws digging into his back, marking him as yours, as the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment.

In the end, the world seemed to shatter, the intensity of your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, every nerve alight with pleasure, as you cried out his name, the sound raw and unfiltered. He followed suit, his release surging through him, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as he spilled into you, the heat of it mingling with your own.

When it was over, the room was quiet, save for the sound of your ragged breaths and the soft rustle of sheets. You murmured to him, your voice a gentle caress, as you kissed him tenderly, your lips brushing against his in a gesture of affection and praise. “What a good pet you are,” you whispered, the words soft but filled with meaning, a testament to the bond you shared.

He didn’t respond, his body spent and his mind drifting into the peaceful embrace of sleep. He slumped against you, his head resting on your chest, his breathing slow and steady. You held him close, your arms wrapped around him, as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you, connected in the quiet aftermath of passion.

[queenofdragons12]

Since so many seem to ship Megumi and Sukuna/Yuji, I'm taking the liberty of drawing them in a ceremony.

[queenofdragons12]

My Gojo art

[queenofdragons12]

First drawing of the OG trio 😀

Art cerdit: me

[queenofdragons12]

First Hawks work ❣️

[queenofdragons12]

The Ichor Throne | satouru gojo.

Synopsis

A mortal queen tethers the god of chaos to her throne using forbidden blood-magic, forcing Gojo Satoru into a human vessel. Their daily "rituals" to sustain the binding spell blur the lines between domination and devotion, threatening both the celestial order and the queen’s ironclad resolve. When rebel sorcerers discover Gojo’s true power lies in his willing submission, the pair must confront whether their toxic entanglement is a cage... or the genesis of a new pantheon.

Content Breakdown

1. The Binding (Ch. 1-3)

Gojo’s divine essence forcibly merged with reader’s coronation regalia

First ritual scene: Reader using throne’s chains to "calibrate" their connection

"You want infinity? Then earn it through mortal means."

2. Crown & Chains (Ch. 4-7)

Political fallout from housing a deity

Gojo sabotaging reader’s alliances via psychic interference during state dinners

Shared dream sequences revealing his pre-sealed memories

3. Eclipse Protocol (Ch. 8-10)

Rebel attack forces reader to temporarily unleash Gojo’s powers

Post-battle vulnerability: Gojo cradling injured reader while still magically collared

"This is why gods shouldn’t kneel, little queen. Now you’ve made me care."

4. Throne of Ash (Finale)

Ultimate choice: Dissolve the bond (freeing Gojo but destroying her magic) or ascend together

Climactic ritual merging their bodies into a single cosmic entity

Word Count

CategoryCountTotal32,000 wordsSmut/Intimacy Scenes11,200 (35%)Political Maneuvering8,000 (25%)Cosmic Horror Elements6,400 (20%)Character Backstories4,800 (15%)Battle Sequences1,600 (5%)

Warnings

Graphic Non-Con (magically enforced intimacy)

Body Horror (cosmic transformations during rituals)

Power Imbalance (monarch/deity dynamic)

Psychological Manipulation

Ritualistic Self-Harm (blood magic mechanics)

The last shaft of afternoon light through your chamber's leaded windows caught the floating suitcases in golden suspension - precisely arranged diplomatic gifts hovering like obedient ghosts. You adjusted your high-necked lace collar, its starched edges scraping the healing love bite beneath. Three layers should cover it this time.

The scent hit first - bergamot and sex-damp sheets. Then the heat. Gojo's bare chest pressed against your back like a brand through the silk brocade, his morning stubble catching threads from your travelling cloak. "Please, my love," his whisper vibrated against your nape, fingers slipping beneath your belt to find still-tender skin, "don't leave me to cold sheets and colder politics."

You let him turn you - a tactical retreat. His pupils swallowed sapphire irises whole, hair a chaos of white silk across bare shoulders. The dangerous curve of his smile didn't reach the hand cradling your jaw, thumb brushing the scar he'd kissed better last solstice.

"Sweet serpent," you murmured against his seeking mouth, tasting yesterday's pomegranate wine on his tongue. Your knuckles brushed the proof of his desperation straining against linen sleep pants. "Shall I gift Nevar's queen your spend staining her carpets? Imagine the scrolls her spies would pen..."

His growl shook the perfume vials on your dresser. "Let them read how thoroughly you're claimed." Magic crackled as he walked you backward toward the rumpled four-poster, its curtains still bearing tear marks from last night's...negotiations.

You stopped him with a hairpin to the throat - diamond tip kissing his Adam's apple. "What use is a pet," you breathed into the sudden stillness, "that can't wait seven nights?" The suitcases' levitation spells hummed higher, leather corners smoking with impatience.

Gojo's laugh curled like opium smoke around your resolve. "Seven nights without your teeth at my-"

The door slammed open with your will rather than hands. You stepped through without turning, knowing he'd see the tremble in your lifted chin, smell the arousal even sandalwood oil couldn't mask. His last words followed you down the tower stairs, clinging like the scent of his skin under your nails:

"Her Winter Court has ice in its veins, darling. You'll burn for me by third sunset."

The door didn't quite click shut behind you.

SCENEBREAK

The conference room's AC hummed like a dying wasp, its stale breath doing nothing for the sweat pooling beneath your thigh-high stockings. You watched nanami adjust his tie for the seventh time - that particular Windsor knot you'd complimented three moons ago, when his fingers still smelled of fresh litigation paperwork rather than desperate cologne.

"Post-summit dinner," he said, voice smoother than the whiskey he'd never order himself. "There's... a new izakaya near the courthouse." His briefcase clicked open-shut-open, swallowing the unspoken that doesn't involve reviewing merger contracts until 2AM.

Before you could weaponize your clipboard, Choso's younger brother materialized from the floral arrangement - all gangly limbs and inherited cheekbones. "S-senpai! I baked these mochi shaped like... your case files?" The dessert box trembled in hands still scarred from last month's cursed speech bubble incident.

The temperature dropped. Glass rattled in its frames.

"You." Sukuna's shadow swallowed the conference table's LED lights. His knuckle brushed your inner thigh beneath the table, a brand through three layers of imported wool. "Stop wasting my fucking time with these maggots." The 'V' of his unbuttoned shirt revealed blackened curse marks pulsing like live wires.

Nobara's champagne flute caught the dying sunlight, casting blood-red prismas across your notes. "Careful, princess," she purred, stiletto tapping the nuclear football briefcase under the table. "Let one paw too far up that skirt, and we'll be scraping king of curses off the ceiling tiles again."

Maki didn't look up from sharpening her cursed speech quill. "The Kamo heir's been eyeing our stock options. I could arrange an... acquisition." Her grin flashed feral. "Permanently."

You stood, letting Sukuna's stolen jacket slide from your shoulders like shed skin. "Gentlemen." The single word froze Nanami's pen mid-signature, turned Choso's brother's ears incarnadine. "Shall we reconvene when your," a deliberate glance downward, "arguments stand taller than your briefing docs?"

The door slammed without your touch. Through vibrating glass, you watched Sukuna's reflection peel himself from your abandoned chair, licking residual cursed energy from his fingers like spun sugar.

Nobara materialized at your elbow, her perfume cutting through the stench of male desperation. "So. Which head shall we mount in the lobby first?"

SCENEBREAK

As you stumble through the front door, the dim light of the hallway casts long shadows, illuminating the remnants of your chaotic evening. The lingering warmth of the meeting still clings to you, blending with the pleasant buzz from the drinks consumed—each one a different shade of impulse and camaraderie. You take a moment to lean against the door frame, attempting to shake off the dizziness that settles like a heavy fog in your mind.

You take a deep breath, the familiar scent of your home—softly spiced with hints of sandalwood and fresh linen—envelops you like a warm hug. Just beyond the threshold, the living room opens up, revealing a sight that makes your heart swell. There, sprawled comfortably on the inviting sofa, is Gojo, oblivious to the world. His unruly white hair is tousled, partially hiding his serene face, and a remote hangs loosely from his fingers like a forgotten prize.

A smile creeps across your face, softening the edges of your exhaustion. You lift a hand in a casual wave, and with a flick of your wrist, a gentle magic stirs from your fingertips. It dances through the air, shimmering softly, and gracefully sweeps the remote from his grasp, tucking it neatly back into its designated spot on the coffee table. You chuckle to yourself, enchanted by the effortless connection you share with him—this little moment of mischief a reminder of the bond you both cherish.

With Gojo undisturbed, you tiptoe toward the bathroom, your feet tapping softly against the wooden floor, each step echoing in the quiet house. The bathroom door creaks open, revealing a haven of solace. You flick on the light and watch as the warmth floods the small space.

Sliding out of your clothes, you let the fabric pool at your feet like a forgotten memory, the weight of the day spilling away with each piece. The shower beckons, its warmth promising to cleanse both body and spirit. You step inside, and as the water cascades over you, it feels like a thousand tiny hands washing away the last remnants of the day—the heat enveloping you like an embrace, the steam swirling around, making everything feel ethereal.

You let your thoughts drift, momentarily losing yourself in the rhythmic sound of water splashing against the porcelain tub. Each droplet carries away the weight of the night—the laughter, the conversations, the clinking of glasses—all dissolving into the swirling current. The scent of your favorite citrusy shampoo fills the air, invigorating your senses as you lather the suds into your hair.

In this tranquil moment, you think about Gojo, the way his presence lights up even the dullest of days, his carefree spirit a delightful contrast to your more serious demeanor. You smile again, the corners of your lips lifting as you imagine his gentle snores filling the silence.

With each rinse, you emerge from your shower revitalized, feeling fresh—not just in body, but in mind and heart. The day may have drained you, but the promise of shared laughter and cozy evenings with Gojo lies ahead. You step out of the shower, ready to embrace the warmth of home once more.

Stepping out of the bathroom, still steamy from the shower, you make your way to your room, the soft, plush carpet feeling heavenly under your bare feet. The door creaks open, revealing a sight that makes your heart skip a beat. There, sprawled comfortably on your bed, is Gojo, looking utterly relaxed and dangerously enticing. He’s stripped down to just his boxers, the fabric clinging to his form in all the right places, revealing the contours of his toned physique and the mischievous glint in his striking eyes as he catches your gaze.

A playful giggle escapes your lips, light and teasing, punctuating the air between you. "Damn, pet," you smirk, your voice laced with flirtation, "you really want to fuck me, huh?" The words hang in the air, dripping with mischief, as you take a step closer, emboldened by the magnetic pull of the moment.

You can see the way his lips curl into a sly smile, the confidence radiating from him like an electric current. He shifts slightly, his playful demeanor inviting you into the game. Your fingers, almost instinctively, form delicate claws as you trail them up the supple skin of his thigh, relishing the way he tenses slightly at your touch, a shiver running through him at the enticing sensation.

“Careful now,” he warns playfully, his tone both teasing and sultry, “you might awaken something wild.” His blue eyes glimmer with unspoken promises, and as you inch closer, the environment around you seems to crackle with anticipation.

You let your nails graze his upper thigh and feel the tension there, the thrill of the moment igniting sparks between you. The air grows thick with desire, and in that space, your laughter intertwines with his soft chuckles, creating an intimate symphony that fills the room. Everything else—your previous exhaustion, the weight of the day—melts away like the steam from the bathroom, leaving just the two of you and the thrilling possibility of what the night could hold.

“Maybe I like to keep you on your toes,” you tease back, a playful wink accompanying your words, your fingertips still lingering on his skin as you savor the electrifying connection.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you feel your dragonborn side awaken, a powerful presence simmering just beneath your skin. It spills forth, igniting a fierce longing within you as you step toward Gojo, your wings unfurling gracefully behind you with an iridescent shimmer. Their vast span casts shadows across the dimly lit room, an embodiment of your unyielding spirit and desire.

In one sweeping motion, you push him down against the soft bedding, your wings gently enveloping him, asserting your dominance in this playful game. His eyes widen in surprise, a mixture of awe and exhilaration flickering across his handsome features. His breath catches in his throat as you lean closer, the heat radiating between you intensifying.

"You did this, Gojo," you declare, your voice a sultry whisper, rich with a playful edge. "You wanted me, and here you got me." Your words carry a teasing challenge, each syllable dripping with a heady blend of confidence and desire. You revel in the moment, feeling empowered as you look down at him, an undeniable connection crackling in the air.

With a playful flick of your wrist, you peel away the towel that barely clings to your body, revealing your breasts, the softness of your skin glistening in the warm light. The fabric drops to the floor, a silent declaration of vulnerability wrapped in power. You take a moment to relish the exhilaration of exposing yourself, your dripping pussy glistening enticingly, and you see Gojo gulp, his usually composed demeanor slipping away momentarily.

“Damn,” he breathes, an uncharacteristic shyness overtaking him, but only for a second. The glint in his eye returns as he leans back into the plushness of the bed, fully aware of the scene unfolding. You can see him shift, grappling between his instinctive urge to take charge and the deeper thrill of surrender that he knows you’ve ignited within him.

It’s a shift that transforms the dynamic, and you savor the subtle power play. You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath warm as you murmur, “You love being my submissive little toy, don’t you?” The gentle teasing ignites something primal within him, and you feel the way his body responds, craving the thrill of your control.

In this passionate embrace, time seems to slow, and the world outside fades away. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by a cocoon of longing and playful seduction, ready to explore the wild side lurking within.

As excitement courses through you, you shift your focus, feeling an irresistible pull toward Gojo. Lowering yourself, you instinctively align your body with his, the warm musk of desire swirling around you. Your heart races in tandem with the intensity of the moment, and you savor every lingering sensation as you draw closer to him.

With a teasing gaze, you take him into your mouth, feeling the familiar stretch fill you as you savor his size, already accommodating the presence that has so often driven you wild. The initial hiss escapes your lips, a mix of pleasure and exhilaration reflecting the heat that spirals through your core. You can’t help but relish the sheer magnitude of him, your body instinctively anticipating the sensation.

As you take him deeper, the taste and feel of him ignite a hunger inside—a primal need that harmonizes with the dragonborn energy bubbling within you. It doesn’t take long before you’re lost in the rhythm, rolling your hips as you move in tandem, matching every thrust with your own undulating desire.

With each deliberate motion, the sounds fill the air—your soft moans of pleasure mingling with the breathy gasps escaping Gojo’s lips. You can feel the way he tenses, the way he fights against the overwhelming sensations as you tease and delight him, pushing him higher with every movement. His fingers tangle in your hair, urging you closer, and his voice, once playful, shifts to something deeper, more urgent.

“Ah, damn, just like that,” he groans, the words slipping from his mouth in a rush. You can feel the pulse in your own body matching the tempo, the heat rising as you drown in a whirlpool of pleasure.

You pull back for a moment, looking up at him with a playful spark in your eye, enjoying the sight of him completely lost in the moment, a soft sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” you tease softly, your voice dripping with seduction as your fingers trace along his thighs, still able to feel the effects of your touch.

But the whisper of your breath barely leaves your lips before you’re back to him, succumbing to the intoxicating rhythm, your body moving with a hungry eagerness. Each indulgent motion sends waves of satisfaction coursing through you both, and as he moans again, you know you’re losing yourselves—completely enraptured in the dance of mutual pleasure.

The chamber's ice-forged pillars weep diamond droplets around you both, their eternal frost recoiling from the heat of his spilled divinity. Your tail - obsidian scales catching firelight like a blacksmith's blade - tightens incrementally around his sac. Not enough to truly harm, only to make the hiss of his indrawn breath reverberate off centuries-old runes carved by dead gods.

"Dam-ah!-mn it, mas-mmf-ter-" Gojo's protest dies against his own forearm, teeth sinking into sun-gold flesh to muffle sounds he'd never admit to making. His cock weeps pearlescent precome onto your inner thigh, the contrast obscene - celestial ichor smearing over the mortal sweat of your humanoid form's skin.

You pause, savoring the way his abdominal muscles flutter like caged starlings. "Sensitive?" Your words vibrate through the tongue now lapping salt from his sternum. "Or simply..." A claw traces the forbidden seal above his heart - the one binding his Six Eyes to flesh. "...ashamed of how your body betrays you?"

His choked whimper tastes of winter apples and damask roses. You move.

The stretch burns like forging a new constellation - his cock splitting you wide as you sink onto him in one glacial descent. Your shared gasp coalesces into mist above, forming temporary runes that dissolve like sugar in tea. His hips stutter upward instinctively, met by your tail slamming them back into the crysteel altar.

"Nnh-! F-fuck, your cunt's eating me alive-" Gojo's blasphemous mouth spills heresies between panting laughs, sapphire eyes glassy with overstimulation. You watch, enthralled, as his irises fracture into mandala patterns - the visual proof of his unraveling.

Your claws find purchase in his hips, drawing ichor that sizzles against cold stone. "This vessel hungers," you growl, rolling your pelvis in the ancient rhythm that once birthed volcanoes. "Shall I let it devour you whole, little god?"

His answer comes in the form of nails raking down your spine - half-mortal, half-divine blood welling where he breaches skin. The altar cracks beneath you both as his release hits like supernova, molten gold flooding your womb as his scream shakes loose icicles from the vaulted ceiling.

When his thrashing stills, you lick the tears from his trembling lids. They taste of ambrosia and regret.

The chamber's ancient glyphs glow crimson as your hips piston downward, each impact scattering bioluminescent pollen from the sacred vines binding Gojo's wrists. His cock sheens with nectar meant for god-kings, now pooling where your cunnus milks him with primordial contractions. You feel the exact moment his worship turns feral - the way his sac draws up tight against your tail's constriction, vein-patterned thighs quaking like tectonic plates divorcing.

"G-goddess please-!" His sob fractures into three octaves, irises blooming into fractal lotus patterns only seen during celestial eclipses. Your claws carve devotional sigils into his pectorals as you grind deeper, ichor-slick and relentless.

The orgasm hits like collapsing star matter:

Your walls pulse in forgotten temple drum rhythms

His release floods molten electrum hot enough to melt moonstone

Twin screams shatter the obsidian mirrors lining the chamber

When vision returns, you find him arched in ruined splendor - tear tracks crystallizing into diamond rivulets across flushed cheeks. His spent cock twitches valiantly still sheathed within you, oversensitive nerve-endings firing like dying stars.

"Magnificent," you purr, thumb smearing their combined fluids across his panting mouth. "Now beg properly for your deity."

His tongue darts out instinctively, lapping at the offered digits. "All...all hail the cunt that cleaves worlds," he rasps, laughter and desperation warring in his ruined voice. "Mercy, my dark star. This vessel wasn't built to contain supernovas."

[queenofdragons12]

the queen has teeth | s.g

When the last Stormcaller sorcerer surrenders to the Obsidian Queen's court, their "negotiations" ignite more than political alliances. Geto's mortal flesh becomes the battleground where ancient dragon biology collides with human frailty – barbed tongues lick runes into sweat-slicked skin, ovipositor ridges milk desperate pleas, and every shared climax forges irreversible bonds. But as the queen's venom courses through his veins, gilding his flesh in metallic scales, Geto discovers the true price of becoming a dragon's perfect consort.

Pairings: ▷ Obsidian Dragon Queen / Human Stormcaller (Geto) ▷ Implied Dragon Queen / First Consort (Past)

Warnings: ⚠️ Power imbalance dynamics ⚠️ Body horror transformations (scale emergence, fluid bonding) ⚠️ Ritualized intimacy with magical coercion ⚠️ Oviposition themes ⚠️ Consensual non-con elements ⚠️ Mythological anatomical liberties

You were seated in your throne, the weight of your crown a familiar presence upon your brow. The grand hall was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the intricately carved stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the faint murmur of distant conversations echoed faintly in the vast space. You leaned back, your fingers idly tracing the armrests of the throne, lost in thought.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors creaked open, and a servant hurried in, his footsteps echoing sharply against the marble floor. He moved with haste, his head bowed low, clutching a tray laden with goblets. In his rush, he stumbled, nearly tripping over the edge of the ornate rug that stretched across the hall. The tray wobbled precariously, and for a moment, it seemed as though disaster was imminent.

You raised your hand swiftly, your voice calm but commanding. "Be careful, little one," you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. Your tone was gentle, yet it carried the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. The servant froze, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he regained his balance. He looked up at you, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and awe.

You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. The touch was brief, but it sent a shiver through him. He was young, perhaps no more than sixteen, and his skin was warm beneath your fingertips. His reaction was immediate and unmistakable—he was sensitive, his emotions raw and unguarded.

"Y-yes, Majesty," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He bowed deeply, his trembling hands steadying the tray once more. The goblets clinked softly, the sound a stark contrast to the silence that had settled over the hall.

You watched him for a moment, your gaze thoughtful. There was something endearing about his earnestness, his vulnerability. With a nod, you dismissed him, your hand returning to rest upon the arm of your throne. The servant scurried away, his footsteps fading into the distance, leaving you once again alone with your thoughts.

"You really do anything to make me jealous, huh?" a voice purred from behind you. You turned slowly, your gaze landing on Suguru Geto as he stepped into the light. He was stripped down to his boxers, his toned physique on full display. The faint outline of his arousal was impossible to ignore, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

"I was only being a benevolent queen, little Geto," you replied, your voice dripping with playful condescension. The nickname made him shiver, his lips parting slightly as he fought to maintain his composure. You stepped closer, your eyes tracing the lines of his muscles, the way they tensed under your scrutiny.

Your fingers reached out, lightly brushing against his chest as you began to circle him. Each touch was deliberate, teasing, as if you were mapping every inch of him. He remained still, his breath hitching as your fingertips trailed over his skin. The air between you was charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"You’re always so sensitive," you murmured, your voice low and intimate. Your hand lingered on his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles twitched beneath your touch. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and frustration.

"Majesty," he breathed, the word almost a plea. You chuckled softly, your fingers drifting lower, tracing the waistband of his boxers. He shuddered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain control.

"Relax, little Geto," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "I’m just reminding you who’s in charge."

The air between you was electric, a charged silence broken only by the rhythm of your breaths. You stepped closer, your presence a force that demanded his attention. Your hand rose, fingers gently tilting his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours. "Now," you murmured, your voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down his spine, "maybe I should really show you that I am only good to you, huh?" The words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in a challenge.

With a swift motion, you tugged off his boxers, the fabric sliding down his legs like a curtain falling from a stage. He yelped, a sound caught between surprise and anticipation, as his cock sprang free, a testament to his desire. You knelt before him, the cool floor beneath your knees a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Your lips parted, and you took the head of his cock into your mouth, a gentle yet deliberate act that drew a sharp gasp from him.

"M-mjaetsy," he stammered, his voice trembling, "have mercy! I-I was only teasing!" His words were a plea, but his body betrayed him, arching toward you as if seeking more. The moment was a dance of power and vulnerability, a symphony of touch and sound, where every movement spoke louder than words.

The room was a cocoon of warmth, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting golden hues across the walls. You stood up, the motion deliberate yet gentle, and he let out a faint whine, the sound tinged with longing.

His amber-brown eyes, deep and luminous, met yours, shimmering with unshed tears that caught the light like fragile crystals.

One tear escaped, tracing a slow, glistening path down his cheek, and you reached out, your fingers brushing against his skin with a tenderness that spoke of unspoken promises.

"Let’s go to bed, love," you whispered, your voice a soothing melody that wrapped around him like a blanket.

The words carried the weight of comfort and intimacy, a quiet invitation to leave the world behind and find solace in each other. You took his hand, your fingers intertwining, and led him toward the bed, where the sheets awaited, soft and inviting, a sanctuary for the two of you to lose yourselves in the quiet embrace of the night.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the world outside and leaving only the quiet intimacy of the room. You guided Geto to the edge of the bed, your touch firm yet tender, a silent assurance that this moment was just for the two of you. The air between you was charged with anticipation, every breath a shared rhythm. With deliberate grace, you reached for the hem of your kimono, the fabric sliding off your shoulders like a whisper, pooling at your feet in a soft cascade of silk.

Geto’s breath caught in his throat as your body was revealed, your perking breasts and the curves of your figure bathed in the soft glow of the room. His amber-brown eyes widened, a mix of awe and reverence flickering in their depths. "Oh… my queen," he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion, "you are the most beautiful goddess I’ve ever seen." The words were a prayer, a testament to the way you captivated him, body and soul.

The moment hung in the air, suspended in time, as if the universe itself had paused to witness the beauty of your connection.

A low, sultry chuckle escaped your lips, the sound rich with confidence and desire. Your fingers found his chin, your touch firm yet tender as you tilted his face toward yours.

The air between you crackled with anticipation, every breath a shared promise of what was to come.

Your lips met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle—a claiming, a declaration, a fire ignited. His breath hitched, his body responding instantly, as if every nerve was alight with the heat of your touch. The kiss deepened, a slow, deliberate exploration that left no doubt of your intentions.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear even the slightest distance between you. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of desire.

Between the heated kisses, his voice broke through, fragile and trembling, as if the words were torn from the deepest part of his soul. "I-I’m your only one, aren’t I, Y/N?" he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. "You—you don’t like anyone but me, right? Not Gojo, not Megumi, or Yuji, or Choso, or Mahito… right?" His amber-brown eyes searched yours, glistening with unshed tears, as if he truly believed he was worth nothing more than the shadows he carried. The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much to bear, a raw ache that tugged at your heart.

You hissed softly as his hands brushed against your breasts, the touch both tentative and desperate, as if he were trying to anchor himself in the moment. Leaning closer, your lips brushed his ear, your voice a low, sultry purr that left no room for doubt. "Geto, my dear," you murmured, each word dripping with conviction, "you are the only one worthy to taste this pussy, darling. No one else. Only you."

The words hung in the air, a promise and a declaration, as you pressed yourself against him, leaving no space for doubt or insecurity. His breath hitched, his body trembling beneath your touch, and for a moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by desire, trust, and the unshakable truth of your words.

The chamber's obsidian walls pulsed with ancient runes as your talons carved furrows in the sacrificial marble. Geto's human fingers felt laughably small against your swelling draconic heat, the air thickening with pheromonal musk that made his pupils dilate to black pools.

"Y-Yes... deeper," you hissed through elongating fangs, volcanic blood singing as his hand disappeared between your quivering ventral plates. The vibration of your growing tailspikes made the braziers' flames dance wildly, shadows clawing at his sweat-slicked form.

When the transformation crested, your new obsidian-scaled bulk pinned him against the altar stone. Geto's awestruck gasp died as your barbed prehensile tongue lashed across his throat. "M-My queen-" he stammered, fingers scrambling against your bioluminescent underbelly now glowing like magma flows.

Your thunderous roar shook dust from the ceiling as you sheathed him in your molten core, the chamber echoing with the wet slap of scales meeting flesh. His scream of overwhelmed ecstasy bounced off the temple walls - a sound you drank in like fine wine, your wing-claws piercing the stone beside his head as you leaned down.

"Such... noise," you purred, lactating nipple-spines dripping glowing fluid across his contorted face. Your forked tongue collected his tears as the striped patterns along your chestplates began to pulse in time with his racing heartbeat. "Shall we let the cattle outside compare their mewling to this symphony, little priest?"

"P-Please..." Geto's claws splintered the armrests, his normally golden scales now feverish crimson from snout to thrashing tail-tip. "M-My queen's mercy... I've burned... ten nests... for your pleasure..."

You leaned back, letting the throne's living obsidian tendrils caress your wings as your internal muscles pulsed with ancient breeding rhythms. "Oh my jealous jewel," you crooned, venom-drip fangs grazing his swelling throat-sac. "Didn't you beg to outshine my first consort?"

The chamber erupted in bioluminescent fungi as you suddenly clamped down, your ovipositor ridges flaring to trap him at the precipice. Geto's agonized roar shook rare stalactites from the vaulted ceiling, their shattering echoing his crumbling control.

"S-See?" you hissed against his rupturing heat-glands, talons carving possessive runes into his heaving flank. "This is why..." A cruel upward snap of your hips drew glowing fluid tears. "...he lasted... centuries."

Geto's spine arched like a drawn longbow, every corded muscle singing with stolen lightning. The chamber's glyphs pulsed scarlet where your talons anchored his wrists to the obsidian altar, ancient carvings drinking the sweat pooling in his collarbones. "M-My queen—" His protest dissolved into a fractured groan as your tail coiled possessively around his bucking thigh.

You watched, enthralled, as the first pearlescent jets painted your inner flames. His release wasn't the gentle spill of mead but the crackle of stormfronts—each pulse against your molten core coaxing forth the wildfire coiling in your womb. The air reeked of scorched bergamot and sea salt, of the ozone tang preceding hurricane eyes.

"Such pretty devotion," you purred through a muzzle now bristling with obsidian daggers. Your free hand splayed across his heaving abdomen, talons dimpling flesh already gilding with the first metallic sheen of permanent conversion. "Shall we let them hear?"

His choked whimper shook the braziers' flames as your teeth found the hammering pulse beneath his jaw. Somewhere beyond the ritual chamber's salt-crusted arches, the sea itself seemed to hold its breath. You drank his wordless plea, your answering snarl setting the hanging censers clattering in discordant counterpoint to the wet slap of flesh on enchanted stone.

When the claiming crest finally shattered the eastern window, the shards didn't fall—they sang, swirling around your conjoined forms in a lethal ballet. You let him feel the first drops of his own blood hover, jewel-like, before sealing the wound with a molten swipe of your barbed tongue.

"Mine," you growled into the sudden silence, the word echoing through eight dimensions at once. The glyphs beneath his body pulsed once, crimson as fresh butchery, before subsiding into satisfied smolder.

[queenofdragons12]

Shadows of Power? | m.g & m.g

Minne oppdatert

Got it! Here's an updated version for Shadows of Power:

Warnings:

Strong Language

Violence

Manipulation

Power Struggles

Emotional Angst

Threats of Harm

Tags:

Supernatural

Shape-shifting

Dark Fantasy

Tension-Filled Drama

Psychological Struggle

Power Dynamics

Transformation

Twin Dynamics

X Reader

Pairings:

Marcus x Reader

Martinius x Reader

You moved silently through the pristine halls of your entertainment agency, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floors. The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the modernist interior. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden vibration of your phone.

The caller ID displayed your manager, Ms. Bang. With swift precision, you answered the call, her voice carrying an unusual hint of excitement. "Ms. Bang? What's going on?"

"We need you in the common room immediately," she declared, her voice carrying both urgency and significance. "You won't believe this - we just received contact from the Norwegian pop sensation, Marcus & Martinus."

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed this information. The twin performers who had taken the Scandinavian music scene by storm were reaching out to your agency. Your pace quickened as you headed toward the common room, mind racing with possibilities about what this unexpected connection might lead to.

SCENEBREAK

You pushed open the glass doors to the common room, and your breath caught in your throat. There they were - Marcus and Martinus, the identical twins from Norway, sitting on the sleek leather couch and speaking to each other in hushed tones. The modern art pieces on the walls and the city skyline visible through the windows created a perfect backdrop for this surreal moment.

The twin with darker hair - Marcus - immediately perked up upon seeing you, his face brightening with a warm smile. He nudged his brother gently, and both rose to their feet with synchronized grace that only twins could master.

"Ms. Bang, hello! We're Marcus and Martinus," Marcus said, extending his hand. His accent carried a melodic Norwegian lilt that softened his English words.

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head slightly, still processing the surreal nature of this meeting. "Hello boys," you responded, accepting the handshake. "I'm Y/N Bang. It's nice to meet you both." Your professional demeanor remained intact despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach - after all, these young men had millions of followers across Europe and were known for their chart-topping hits.

Martinus tilted his head curiously, his eyes showing genuine interest. "You don't sound Korean," he observed, his voice carrying that same melodious Norwegian accent as his brother's.

Marcus jabbed his elbow playfully into his twin's side, looking slightly embarrassed by his brother's directness. "Hey!" he scolded under his breath, but there was obvious affection in his tone.

You couldn't help but chuckle at their brotherly dynamic, finding their interaction endearing. "No, about that..." you smiled warmly, leaning slightly against the modern glass conference table behind you. "I'm actually half Australian, in fact." Your voice carried the slight hint of an Australian accent that had prompted their observation.

The twins exchanged interested glances, and you could practically see the questions forming in their minds. The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the genuine curiosity in their expressions.

Before the twins could satisfy their curiosity about your background, the door burst open. Your manager Jane strode in with her characteristic intensity, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. "Enough chitchatting, Ms. Bang. Come on," she commanded, her voice clipped and professional.

Without warning, she grabbed your arm firmly, causing you to grunt in surprise. The muscles in your arm tensed at her unexpected grip as she practically dragged you toward the door. You barely had time to throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder at the twins.

Marcus and Martinus shared a meaningful look, their expressions darkening with concern. A silent understanding passed between them as they watched you being led away. Not good, they thought simultaneously, their twin intuition kicking in. Something about Jane's forceful behavior and your visible discomfort set off warning bells in their minds.

The tension in the room had shifted from friendly warmth to something more ominous in mere seconds.

SCENEBREAK

In a sudden burst of aggression, Jane whirled around to face you. "Why can't you just listen, you bitch!" she barked, her hand raised threateningly in the air. But before she could strike, something dangerous flashed in your eyes.

You caught her wrist mid-motion, your grip supernatural in its strength. A low growl rumbled from deep in your chest as your fangs began to elongate, sharp and threatening. Your eyes flickered with an amber glow, the wolf within you rising to the surface.

"Enough," you snarled, your voice carrying an inhuman resonance that echoed through the hallway. "I'm a werewolf, remember? I can tear your heart out, you ungrateful woman." Your claws began to emerge, pressing warning points against her skin.

Behind you, Marcus and Martinus stood frozen in the doorway, their eyes wide as they witnessed your transformation. The air crackled with supernatural tension as the facade of normalcy shattered around them.

Martinus took a tentative step forward, his gentle voice cutting through the charged atmosphere like a warm breeze. The hallway's fluorescent lights caught the genuine concern swimming in his dark eyes, making them appear almost liquid with emotion.

Around you, the sterile corporate environment seemed to fade away as your supernatural senses heightened in the aftermath of your near-transformation. You could hear the twins' steady heartbeats, smell the expensive cologne they wore (something exclusive and Scandinavian, with notes of pine and sea salt), and detect the slight rustle of their designer clothes as they moved.

"Y/N..." Martinus's voice held no judgment - only a soft understanding that seemed far beyond his years as a pop sensation. The way he said your name felt like a caress, each letter wrapped in genuine care.

Marcus stood slightly behind his brother, but his presence was equally supportive. His hands were loose at his sides, showing he was completely at ease despite having just witnessed your supernatural display. The afternoon sun streaming through the nearby window cast a golden halo around both twins, creating an almost ethereal tableau.

Your own heart was still thundering in your chest, the wolf's anger slowly receding like waves pulling back from shore. You could feel your fangs had left slight indentations in your lower lip, and your hands still tingled from where claws had threatened to emerge. The remnants of your near-transformation left you feeling raw and exposed, like a nerve ending in the open air.

"Sorry, boys," you managed to say, your voice husky with emotion and lingering wolf-energy. "I didn't want you to see me like this." The words came out barely above a whisper, but in the hushed hallway, they seemed to echo. Behind you, Jane's rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing betrayed her fear, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about her reaction anymore.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a mundane sound that seemed absurd given the supernatural drama that had just unfolded. A gentle breeze from the building's ventilation system carried the twins' scents to you - a mixture of youth, vitality, and something uniquely their own that your wolf found oddly comforting.

Marcus stepped forward, his usually gentle demeanor replaced by something fierce and protective. His eyes locked onto Jane with an intensity that seemed to drop the temperature in the hallway by several degrees. "Why do you treat her like this?" he demanded, his Norwegian accent making the words sound even more cutting.

Jane scoffed, still rubbing her wrist where your grip had left marks. Her lip curled in an ugly sneer as she spat out, "I just told them what they were seeing - their kind is nothing but whores, like all the other half-breeds here." Her words dripped with venom as she straightened her designer blazer, trying to maintain some semblance of authority. "Omegas don't have a place among us Betas and Alphas."

The air grew thick with tension as her prejudiced words hung in the space between you. The fluorescent lights seemed to flicker overhead, as if responding to the growing supernatural tension. Your wolf stirred again beneath your skin, bristling at the blatant discrimination.

Marcus's eyes flashed dangerously, his usual boyish charm completely vanished. The temperature seemed to plummet further as he took another step toward Jane, his designer boots echoing ominously against the marble floor. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows cast dramatic shadows across his face, highlighting the sudden sharp angles of his features.

"How dare you," he growled, and something in his voice had changed - there was a resonance there that hadn't existed before, something ancient and powerful. The air around him began to shimmer with an invisible energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Jane's face drained of color as she stumbled backward, her designer heels clicking frantically against the floor. Her previous bravado crumbled as she finally seemed to realize her grievous error. The scent of her fear filled the air - sharp and acrid - easily detected by your heightened werewolf senses.

"Their kind?" Martinus spoke up now, moving to stand beside his twin. His voice was softer than his brother's but no less intense. "You mean like us?" As he spoke, both twins' eyes began to glow with an otherworldly blue light, like the heart of a glacier. The temperature dropped even further, causing Jane's breath to come out in visible puffs of air.

Your own wolf stirred within you, responding to the twins' display of power. The air crackled with three distinct supernatural energies - your wild, primal force and their cool, ancient power. The modern office building suddenly felt like a thin veneer of civilization over something much older and more primitive.

Jane's face had gone from pale to ashen as she pressed herself against the wall, her perfectly manicured nails scraping against the expensive wallpaper. "You... you're..." she stuttered, unable to complete the thought as the twins' power filled the hallway with an arctic chill.

The fluorescent lights overhead began to frost over, delicate patterns of ice spreading across their surface like frozen lace. The windows clouded with a layer of frost, transforming the sunny afternoon outside into a dim, winter-like gloom.

Marcus Culre’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing as he shot a quick glance at his brother. “Yeah, you’re gonna say what?” he barked, his voice sharp and challenging. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, and before you could even process what had just happened, both brothers shifted. Their bodies contorted, fur rippling across their frames as they transformed into wolves. The fur on their bodies was stark white, speckled with patches of brown that seemed to shift and blend into the surrounding forest.

You blinked, your mind racing to catch up. This was strange, surreal. Your heart pounded in your chest, unsure whether you should be terrified or fascinated. The transformation was so sudden, so fluid. It was like a dream—or a nightmare—that you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to wake from. You felt your own instincts stirring, like a dormant part of you was calling out to join them, to step into that wild freedom they now embodied. You hesitated, but something urged you forward, toward them.

Matius scraped his claws against the ground, growling low, and you could hear the tension in his voice. The air seemed to hum with the power of his words, even though his mouth wasn’t moving. "You are to be fired immediately. I’ll send a message to JYP," he said, his tone cold and commanding.

Jane trembled, the fear evident in the way her body shook. "How? How can I? I just put that word in her spot!" she howled, her voice cracking as she struggled to comprehend the sudden shift in the situation. The weight of her actions seemed to crush her, and her eyes darted around, searching for a way out of the storm that was closing in around her.

The moment was thick with tension, the air heavy with the unspoken consequences of what was happening, leaving you to wonder what would come next in this unsettling, strange world they inhabited.

[queenofdragons12]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Shadow of the Force

The days since Spider-Man and Power Man had found you had felt like a gilded dream, laced with both chaos and belonging. Settling into Peter Parker’s modest Queens home, you’d been met with a kindness that could only be described as royal in its simplicity. Aunt May had welcomed you like family, her warm smile and gentle wit wrapping around you like a comforting cloak. The air in the house was always sweet with the scent of her baking, her old-fashioned wisdom punctuating your evenings like pearls of advice strung along your new life.

The team had embraced you, too. Nova’s flirtation, as inevitable as a sunbeam breaking through stormy clouds, had been easy to brush off, though it brought a grin to your face. His sparkling bravado was infectious, even if shallow. Spider-Man—Peter—had been the opposite: grounded, steady, his nervous kindness a steady thread that tethered you to this new reality. He was the one who had suggested the lightsaber training, an idea so absurd yet thrilling that you hadn’t been able to say no. The glow of the blades lit up the darkened evenings like something out of a myth, each swing and parry feeling as if you were carving a new chapter of your story into the air itself.

School had been a revelation. Harry Osborn’s easy charm and MJ’s sharp wit made them fast allies, and they had drawn you into their circle with the ease of royals admitting a favored knight into their court. The other students, especially the girls, had been slower to warm up to you—your arrival had been like a comet streaking across their sky, blinding and awe-inspiring. But soon, even their tentative smiles had turned genuine. After all, how could they not? You carried yourself with the kind of confidence that seemed otherworldly. Your presence turned heads in the hallways, your voice commanding attention with an unintentional authority. You looked like you belonged on a throne carved from the stars themselves, a celestial being among mortals.

The days were filled with a heady mix of ordinary routines and extraordinary moments. Walking to school felt like parading down a cobblestone boulevard in some ancient city, each step echoing with purpose. In class, your answers came sharp and clear, like a blade striking true. At lunch, laughter rang out like silver bells as you shared quips with Peter’s friends, their warmth seeping into the corners of your heart. Even Flash Thompson, the self-proclaimed king of Midtown High, seemed more bemused than antagonistic when it came to you.

Still, it was the nights that shone the brightest. Under the silver gaze of the moon, you and Peter sparred on rooftops, the city a sprawling kingdom beneath your feet. You had never felt more alive, your movements fluid and precise as your lightsaber hummed through the air, meeting Peter’s web-slinging agility with a grace that felt predestined. Each session left you breathless, but the smile that lingered on Peter’s face made every aching muscle worth it.

Though you had found yourself drenched in these royal details of camaraderie and routine, a small, guarded part of you couldn’t help but wonder: What lay ahead for someone like you, who looked like a god yet felt so human among them?

The cafeteria buzzed with the hum of conversation and clattering trays, but Harry’s question cut through the noise as sharp as the edge of a blade.

“Hey, do you wanna go out afterward?” he asked, his tone casual, but his green eyes flickered with an undercurrent of hope.

You paused mid-bite, your sandwich hovering inches from your mouth. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you considered his invitation. There was no malice in your response, just a straightforwardness that seemed to define you.

“Can’t, got homework,” you said, your shrug dismissive but not unkind. Then, as if to soften the blow, you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “But tomorrow? Sure.”

Harry’s expression faltered for just a heartbeat, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he masked it with his usual charm. “Alright,” he said, forcing a grin as if he’d already started planning tomorrow’s adventure in his head.

The lunch table settled into its usual rhythm, and soon enough, you and Peter were walking home. The streets of Queens stretched out before you like a well-worn map, their familiarity a comfort after the chaos of the last few weeks. You kicked at a stray pebble, your conversation with Peter light and easy, weaving between topics with the kind of camaraderie that felt natural now.

But neither of you noticed the figure cloaked in shadow, their gaze like cold fire as they watched your every move. Their white eyes, devoid of warmth, followed your form with an eerie precision, lingering on you as though they were memorizing every detail: the way your shoulders moved, the faint golden glow of your hair under the fading sun, the confident stride that marked you as someone special. Someone dangerous.

Home greeted you like an old friend, Aunt May’s soft humming filtering from the kitchen as you and Peter stepped through the door. You exchanged pleasantries briefly, your mind already drifting to the next task. Without much thought, you headed for the bathroom, eager to rinse the day off and ease the tension in your muscles.

The hot water streamed down your back, soothing and relentless, as your fingers combed through your short blonde hair. The strands gleamed in the misty light, catching the dim glow of the bathroom bulb. You sighed, letting the water cascade over you, erasing the grime of the day.

And then, your fingers brushed against the scar—a long, jagged line that ran over your left eye. It was a silent reminder, etched into your skin like a prophecy. Your touch lingered there, tracing the raised skin as memories you’d rather not think about tried to claw their way to the surface.

For a moment, the bathroom seemed quieter, the steady rhythm of the water fading into a hollow echo. You exhaled, shaking off the thought as you tilted your face upward, letting the water carry away the weight that clung to you.

But somewhere, in the depths of the city, the figure with the dark white eyes had not stopped watching. Their plans for you were already in motion, and the scar over your eye might have been the least of your worries.

The underwater lab hummed with an otherworldly rhythm, the soft glow of green and blue bioluminescent lights reflecting off the steel walls. The water outside cast shifting, rippling shadows across the room, giving the place an ethereal, almost haunting ambiance. Amidst the faint whirring of machinery and the occasional hiss of steam, Dr. Otto Octavius moved with purpose, his eight mechanical arms twisting and turning as if they had minds of their own. Tubes of unknown liquids bubbled behind him, casting eerie, pulsating lights onto his weary face.

The sound of the door hissing open broke the rhythmic chaos. In walked a man whose presence was as sharp and deliberate as a knife. His auburn hair was slicked back perfectly, and his tailored suit and tie spoke of wealth and influence. He carried himself with the ease of someone who was used to power—expected it, even. His polished shoes clicked against the metallic floor, echoing softly as he approached Octavius.

“Octavius, you got the formula we need?” he asked, his voice low and controlled, yet carrying an edge that demanded results.

Octavius didn’t turn immediately, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his frustration. His natural hands paused their work, but his mechanical arms continued, their claws deftly manipulating tools and vials with eerie precision. Finally, he sighed, his tone carrying a mix of resignation and irritation.

“I still need Spider-Man’s DNA,” Octavius said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice had an academic sharpness to it, as though the weight of his genius was both a gift and a curse. “The last specimen ran out, and I’ve been unable to obtain another. The city is a maze, and that infernal wall-crawler doesn’t stay still long enough for me to—”

“Excuses,” the man in the suit interrupted, his frown deepening as he stepped closer. His hazel eyes, hard and calculating, bored into Octavius like twin drills. “I don’t care about the logistics, Otto. What I care about is results. We’ve come too far for delays, and I don’t want that thing going wrong.” His words hung heavy in the air, underscored by the subtle but unmistakable threat in his tone.

Octavius turned fully now, his face shadowed by the dim, flickering light of the lab. His mechanical arms shifted restlessly, one of them slamming onto the desk with a metallic clang that echoed through the room. “You think I don’t know the stakes?” he growled, his voice rising slightly. “That ‘thing’ is a masterpiece, a culmination of decades of research! But without the DNA to stabilize it, it’s useless. Do you have any idea—”

“I’m not interested in your tirades,” the man cut him off again, his voice cold as ice. “Just see that you get it done. And fast.”

He adjusted his tie with a smooth, practiced motion, his polished exterior never cracking. But as he turned to leave, his parting words were laced with a venom that sent a chill through the room.

“This Skywalker girl,” he said, almost musing aloud, “the new friend of my son... she’ll be trouble, I’m sure of it.” His lips curled into a faint smirk, the kind that spoke of plans within plans. “Maybe we’ll need to keep a closer eye on her. Who knows? She might prove useful.”

As the door hissed shut behind him, Octavius returned to his work with a grim determination, his mechanical arms now moving faster, almost frantic. The hum of the lab seemed to grow darker, more insidious, as the pieces of a dangerous game began to fall into place.

[queenofdragons12]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Shadow of the Force

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Upon regaining consciousness, you were greeted by a relentless pounding pain that had seemingly enveloped your head like an iron vice, as if a thousand hammers were simultaneously striking it from every conceivable angle. The sound of a distant voice, at first barely perceptible, gradually grew in volume and clarity until it was close enough to make out the words. "Sweet Christmas! What on Earth is that?" it exclaimed. With considerable effort, you managed to pry open your eyelids and, through the haze of pain, discerned two figures standing before you, each wearing peculiar attire that suggested they were not ordinary individuals. The presence of two distinct male energy signatures, as discernible to your trained senses, confirmed that your current situation was anything but mundane.

"Who… who are you people?" you croaked, your voice a mere whisper of its usual robust tone. The figure donning a mask looked at you with a start, his eyes widening beneath his concealing headgear. "Oh, my… You must be… You're real!" He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again. "Where am I?" you inquired, your mind racing to piece together the puzzling circumstances that had brought you here. The one wearing sunglasses offered a knowing nod. "Indeed, this is Earth," he confirmed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And it appears that you've had quite the dramatic entrance. You see, you've just crash-landed in Peter’s backyard," he said, gesturing to the unmistakable burn mark marring the grassy expanse. The smoldering earth was a testament to the recent cataclysm that had occurred, leaving no doubt that you had arrived through some form of powerful teleportation.

With a frown etched on your face, you took in your surroundings, noticing the remnants of a fiery impact that matched the description of the place you had been sent to by none other than Dr. Strange. The sorcerer hadn’t quite mentioned the part about the abrupt and jarring descent you had just experienced. "Dr. Strange… He didn't mention that I would be, uh, quite so… unceremoniously dropped off," you murmured, your thoughts racing with the implications of this unexpected turn of events.

Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, the dark robes that adorned your body fluttering as you did so. Brushing off any residual dust and debris, you introduced yourself with as much poise as you could muster. "I am Anaë Sunstrider," you announced, extending a hand to the two men before you. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

They accepted your greeting with firm handshakes. "I'm Peter Parker, but most folks around here know me as Spider-Man," the one with the sunglasses said with a friendly smile. "And this is my friend, Luke Cage, also known as Power Man," he added, nodding towards the towering figure beside him.

Your introduction complete, Peter spoke up again. "Now that we've got the formalities out of the way, we really need to get you to SHIELD headquarters. Director Nick Fury is quite eager to have a little chat with you," he explained, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and urgency. Clearly, your unscheduled appearance had not gone unnoticed by the higher-ups in the organization tasked with safeguarding the planet.

You nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Very well, lead the way," you said, your eyes betraying the slightest hint of trepidation as you prepared to face the consequences of your unexpected arrival. Little did you know what adventures and challenges awaited you in the world of superheroes and espionage, but one thing was certain: your journey had only just begun.

Director Nick Fury, a figure known for his commanding presence and enigmatic aura, made his appearance, sporting a complexion as dark as the night itself and a stark contrast with his piercing single eye. His very being seemed to exude an unspoken power and an air of intrigue that was difficult not to be slightly daunted by. Nevertheless, engaging in a conversation with him turned out to be quite a pleasant experience. He touched upon the subject of your immediate future, proposing that you could extend your stay on the condition that you consent to participate in rigorous training sessions alongside none other than the legendary Spider-Man and the formidable assembly of heroes he had brought together. This team, you had been informed earlier, was a collective of some of the most promising young talents in the realm of superheroism.

The mention of training with such an esteemed group was indeed intriguing. You had already had the fortune of crossing paths with Power Man, one of the illustrious members of this ensemble. Despite feeling a tinge of trepidation, the excitement of this new opportunity began to blossom within you.

Upon finalizing the agreement, you felt a firm handshake from the man himself, as he formally addressed you, "Welcome to our fold, Ms. Sunstrider."

You couldn't help but smile back, acknowledging his greeting with a respectful nod. "Thank you, Dr. Fury," you responded, feeling a mix of exhilaration and relief.

Once the formalities were concluded, you were escorted by the charismatic duo of Spider-Man and Power Man to your designated living quarters. As you arrived, you were introduced to the remaining members of the team: the enigmatic Iron Fist, whose prowess in martial arts was renowned, the fiercely independent White Tiger, known for her unmatched agility, and the youthful yet powerful Nova, whose cosmic abilities were a sight to behold.

The camaraderie among the group was palpable, and their welcoming demeanor immediately put you at ease. Each of them had their own distinct personalities and backgrounds, offering a refreshing change from the monastic discipline of the Jedi Order you had left behind. While you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the wise counsel of Obi-Wan Kenobi, it was undeniably refreshing to be in the company of peers who shared your exuberance and zest for life.

As the evening drew to a close, you retired to your chamber, a space that had been prepared for you with meticulous care. The soft embrace of your lace nightgown was a stark contrast to the austere garb you had worn as a Jedi. You laid down on the comfortable bed, feeling the softness of the sheets against your skin, and allowed your thoughts to drift.

Looking around at your new surroundings, you felt a sense of liberation that had been previously unknown to you. The strictures of the Jedi code, while once your guiding light, now felt like a distant memory. Here, in this unfamiliar yet inviting environment, you could explore your own path, free from the rigid constraints that had shaped your existence for so long.

As the moon's gentle glow filtered through the window, casting soft shadows across the room, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Despite the occasional twinge of homesickness, you couldn't deny the thrill of the uncharted territory that lay ahead. You had made your decision and you were ready to embrace whatever challenges and adventures awaited you in this new chapter of your life.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled deeper into the bed, your mind swirling with the excitement of the days to come. Perhaps, you mused, this unforeseen detour from your Jedi journey was not such a curse after all. It might just be the doorway to a world brimming with potential and personal growth. And as sleep began to claim you, you allowed yourself to indulge in the warmth of the thought that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

[queenofdragons12]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Shadow of the Force

Chapter 1

As the early morning sun cast its soft golden rays through the grand archways of the ancient Jedi Temple, you found yourself stepping into the sacred space, feeling the calming hum of the Force resonate within its walls. Your footsteps echoed softly against the polished stone floors as you made your way through the vast corridors, lost in thought. Without warning, you were brought back to the present moment by the unmistakable presence of your esteemed mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He emerged from the shadows, a figure of wisdom and grace, his Jedi robes fluttering gently around him as if caught in a gentle breeze. His eyes searched yours with a curious expression, hinting at his concern for your well-being.

"Anaé, what brings you to the sanctum of the Temple at such an early hour?" His voice was warm, yet tinged with a hint of surprise. He had clearly noticed your unexpected visit.

Turning to face him, you couldn't help but smile at his inquiry. "Master Obi-Wan," you began, "I've come here today simply to seek out the company of an old companion who has shared many of my experiences and memories within these very walls."

His gaze searched yours, his curiosity piqued. "And who might this friend be that you wish to visit so eagerly?" His question hung in the air, filled with a gentle warmth that mirrored the affection he had for all those he guided.

"It's nothing to worry about," you assured him, your smile growing wider. "Just a personal matter. I'll be sure to return shortly and continue with my training." You leaned in slightly, placing a tender kiss upon his cheek. The gesture was one of affection and respect, a silent affirmation of the bond that had grown between the two of you over the years.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened for a brief instant, a hint of a blush rising to his cheeks. He was clearly taken aback by your affectionate display but also touched by your words. "Very well," he replied, his voice a tad more gruff than usual as he composed himself. "But remember, the path of a Jedi is fraught with challenges, and we must always remain vigilant."

With those words lingering in the air, you offered him a nod of understanding. "I will, Master. Thank you for your guidance, as always."

And with that, you turned on your heels and strode away, leaving the venerable Jedi Knight standing in the warm embrace of the early light. His eyes followed you as you disappeared into the depths of the Temple, a mix of pride and curiosity swirling within him. The brief encounter had brought a moment of joy to an otherwise ordinary day, and as you walked away, the soft echo of your footsteps seemed to carry with them the promise of your return.

As you stepped into the dimly lit, eerily quiet hollow corridors of the ancient temple, the weight of your journey thus far bore heavily upon your shoulders, yet the sight of your long-standing comrade, Mr. Dr. Stephen Strange, brought a warm, comforting smile to your lips. The air was thick with an aura of mystery and anticipation as you approached him, your footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stones beneath your boots.

"It appears as though it's been an eternity since we last met," Dr. Strange commented, his gaze piercing through the shadows to meet yours. "I trust your travels have been enlightening?"

"Indeed, they have," you replied, unable to suppress the excitement in your voice. "But they've also been quite the challenge. I'm sorry it took me so long to arrive. I had the unforeseen task of evading my former Master," you explained, your hands moving to fold themselves neatly within the deep pockets of your enigmatic cloak.

Dr. Strange studied you intently, his eyes scanning over the intricate designs adorning your attire. "You seem to have taken the concept of being prepared to a new level," he observed with a hint of amusement. "The cloak, the boots, the staff - are you planning on setting a new fashion trend for interdimensional travelers?"

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. "Old habits die hard, you know. Besides, when you're the Chosen One, looking good is part of the job description," you quipped, your confidence shining through the layers of your clothing.

Dr. Strange's expression grew more serious as he took in your words. "Vanity may serve you well in some realms, Anaé," he cautioned, "but in the realms to which you are about to venture, it is wisdom and courage that will be your most trustworthy companions."

With a solemn nod, you acknowledged his warning. "I understand, Dr. Strange. I am fully aware of what lies ahead," you assured him, your voice steady despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

He took a step closer, raising his hand and with a flick of his wrist, an arcane gesture sent a ripple of energy through the very fabric of reality. The air around you began to shimmer with an eerie orange glow as a portal slowly materialized before you. "This is your gateway," he announced, his tone now one of finality. "Once you pass through, there is no guarantee of return."

Your heart skipped a beat at the gravity of his words, but you had made your choice and there was no turning back. "I'm ready," you declared, your voice strong and unwavering.

Dr. Strange offered you a small, knowing smile. "Very well," he said, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the portal. "But remember, the path you are about to walk is fraught with danger. Tread lightly and with purpose."

You took a moment to appreciate his advice, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "Thank you," you murmured, your gaze never leaving his.

With a solemn nod, he stepped aside, allowing you to approach the swirling vortex of orange light. "Take care, Chosen One," he called out, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the corridor. "We shall meet again, and I look forward to the tales you will bring back with you."

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the warmth of the portal's energy caress your skin. With one final, determined look at Dr. Strange, you stepped into the unknown, the swirling maelstrom of the portal swallowing you whole as it snapped shut behind you with a deafening silence that seemed to resonate throughout the very core of the ancient temple.

The journey ahead was shrouded in mystery, but you were ready. You had been preparing for this moment for what felt like an eternity, and as you disappeared into the fiery embrace of the gateway, you felt a strange mix of excitement, fear, and the unshakable resolve that only comes with knowing one's destiny.

[queenofdragons12]

Beneath the Shadows

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, emotional distress, themes of self-acceptance, and vulnerability.

Word Count: 565 words

You were never part of the Tam Btu, but you had a keen understanding of them, often meeting with their operatives during missions and high-stakes gatherings. As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, you were skilled in the art of observation, preferring to stay in the shadows rather than directly engaging in the fighting. Your role was one of support, gathering intel and analyzing situations, all while remaining detached from the chaos that often unfolded around you.

One particular mission brought you into the orbit of Steve Rogers’ old friend, Bucky Barnes. He was a complex figure—kind-hearted yet shy, burdened by a past filled with uncertainty and nightmares. You could see the weight of his experiences etched into his features, but it was in his eyes that you found the most telling signs. You possessed a unique gift: the ability to perceive the thoughts and emotions swirling within someone simply by looking into their gaze.

When you first met Bucky, he was standing slightly apart from the group, his posture tense and guarded. The camaraderie of the team buzzed around him, but he seemed to float on the periphery, haunted by shadows that only you could discern. You approached him gently, allowing the ambient noise to fade as you locked eyes. In that moment, you felt the pull of his memories—the echoes of a time when he was more than just a soldier, more than a weapon shaped by circumstance.

You learned about his struggles through the depths of his gaze: flashes of loyalty to his friend, flashes of regret, and a desperate yearning for redemption. His mind was a labyrinth, filled with both cherished memories and dark, lingering fears. You understood, perhaps more than anyone else, that Bucky Barnes was a man trapped between the past and the present, longing for connection yet terrified of it.

In the quiet moments you shared, you spoke little, letting your presence be the comfort he needed. You offered a listening ear, a silent understanding that encouraged him to open up just a little. As you both navigated the complexities of your world, you became an ally in the truest sense—not just a fellow agent, but someone who could see beyond the surface, someone who understood the battles he faced within.

Your interactions became a lifeline for him, a space where he could momentarily escape the ghosts of his past. While others saw him as the infamous Winter Soldier, you saw the man underneath—the friend, the fighter, the soul in search of peace. In your own way, you were a shield for Bucky, guarding him against the judgments of a world that often misunderstood him. And in that shared silence, in those fleeting connections, you both found a semblance of solace amidst the turmoil.

You were sitting in your room, lost in thought, when Bucky suddenly stormed in, looking furious. You looked up and placed your hand on the table, ready to meet his intensity.

“Bucky?” you asked, standing up. He paced back and forth like a restless cat trying to find a calm spot.

“Why do you love him?” he spat out, the words coming out so quickly that you barely had time to process them.

You wrinkled your nose, confused by his intense tone. “Love who, Bucky?”

His face was a picture of frustration, and you could see he was about to lose his composure. “Why do you love Steve?” he repeated, his voice sharp.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you stepped closer to him. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

He growled in frustration, and without thinking, he slammed his metal fist against the wall, just inches from your head. You didn’t flinch, standing there calmly.

“Bucky,” you said slowly, “it’s not about love in that way.”

His intense gaze softened for a moment, and you could see the inner turmoil within him. You knew he wasn’t really angry at Steve; he was grappling with his own feelings.

“You have to understand,” you continued, “it’s not as simple as it seems. You are important to me, and I know you know that.”

He stared at you, his hard exterior beginning to crumble. “But what if I’m not good enough?” he murmured, the hurt evident in his voice.

“You are more than good enough, Bucky,” you replied, stepping closer. “You’re strong, brave, and a fantastic friend. I care about you, and that won’t change.”

The room fell silent for a moment, and you could feel the tension between you. The uncertain yet vulnerable man before you needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay to be unsure,” you continued. “We all have our demons. But remember that you can lean on me, no matter what.”

Bucky lowered his gaze, and you could see how his breathing started to ease. “I… I’m so tired of being angry all the time,” he said quietly, as if he had just realized something important.

“Then let’s talk about it,” you said, taking a step closer. “We can figure this out together. You’re not alone in this.”

He looked up at you again, and for the first time in a long while, you could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice marked by a vulnerability that touched you deeply.

In that moment, you knew you both had the strength to navigate the storms together, that you could help him find his way back to peace. And maybe, just maybe, he would one day see himself the way you saw him: as a warrior but also as a friend who deserved love.

You reached out your hand, your voice steady and inviting. “Bucky, come here.” He took your hand with his flesh-and-blood one, and you guided him closer, leading him to your side. Gently, you took both of his hands in yours, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own.

“Bucky, I love you. Not Steve,” you said softly, locking eyes with him. “Steve is the best friend I could ask for, but you are so much more than that.”

You leaned in, your heart racing, wanting him to understand the depth of your feelings. “I don’t care if you’re the Winter Soldier. I see the real you beneath all that. Even if you feel twisted inside, I still love you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, shock and confusion mixing in his expression. “You… you know?” he stammered, and you nodded, tapping your temple lightly, indicating your gift of understanding.

“I have abilities, my beloved,” you replied, keeping your tone gentle yet firm. “I can sense things, and I know what you’re going through. I can see the struggle within you.”

His gaze softened as he absorbed your words, and you could see the walls he had built around himself starting to crack. “But how can you love me after everything I’ve done?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I see you for who you truly are,” you said, squeezing his hands reassuringly. “You are not defined by your past or the things you regret. You’re kind, brave, and you fight every day to be better. That’s what matters to me.”

He took a deep breath, searching your eyes for sincerity. “I’m scared,” he admitted, vulnerability etched on his face. “What if I hurt you? What if the darkness wins?”

You shook your head. “You won’t. You have me, Bucky. We can face this together. You’re not alone anymore. I believe in you.”

A flicker of hope ignited in his eyes, and slowly, he nodded. “I… I don’t know how to be loved,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

“Then let me show you,” you replied, your voice steady. “Let me be here for you. We can figure it out together, one step at a time.”

In that moment, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he was afraid you might disappear. You felt his warmth, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and you knew this was the beginning of something beautiful.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm and sincere. “Thank you for seeing me, for loving me.”

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest. “Always, Bucky. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Together, in that embrace, you found a shared understanding—a promise of healing and connection that would help guide you both through the challenges ahead.

[queenofdragons12]

THE QUEEN — Kylo ren

You gazed at Kylo, his outstretched hand lingering in the air like an offering, an invitation trembling on the brink of hope. A laugh escaped your lips, warm yet brittle, echoing through the charged silence like a fine glass shattering against stone. It was a sound that danced with mirth yet held a sharp edge, and it pierced the stillness, leaving a chilly aftermath.

Kylo's brow furrowed, his expression shifting from anticipation to confusion. He appreciated the melody of your laughter—but this time, its tone was heavy, charged with scorn and disbelief. It was not the laughter he cherished, but rather a cruel mimicry that stung with reproach.

Your eyes fluttered open, revealing glistening petals, each drop of moisture reflecting the dim light like a constellation of stars cast adrift in an endless void. With a sneer curving your lips, you gazed down at him with a mixture of disdain and pity—a celestial being gazing upon a mere mortal. "Oh, you pathetic human," you spat, your voice thick with derision. "Do you truly believe I would ever succumb to the allure of the dark side?"

A scoff escaped you, indignant and fierce. "You know nothing of my lineage, nor the power that flows through my veins," you declared, each word laced with an ancestral pride that anchored you against the tidal pull of the darkness he represented. Your eyes shimmered with the luminosity of your heritage, a stark contrast to the shadow that loomed beside you. And in that moment, you were not just defying Kylo; you were declaring your very existence—a beacon of light in the encroaching dark.

"But..." he began, his voice barely a whisper, trailing off as you lifted a hand with a graceful authority that demanded silence. With a deliberate motion, you extinguished your lightsaber, the blade of shimmering energy dissipating into the ether, leaving only the lingering echo of its hum in the air.

With your dark tail trailing behind you like a sentinel of shadows, you advanced towards him, closing the distance until you stood just a breath away—so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, yet so distant in your resolve. The air crackled with a tension that hummed between you, charged with the unspoken history of battles fought and battles yet to come.

“Never again,” you declared, your voice sharp as a dagger, slicing through the fog of uncertainty that clouded his mind. Each syllable dripped with an icy certainty, a promise and a warning entwined. You remained unwavering, your gaze locked onto his, unrelenting and fierce. “The dark side drains all it touches,” you continued, your words imbued with an ancient wisdom, resonating with the echoes of those who had fallen before you.

In that moment, you became more than just a wielder of light; you transformed into a guardian of what it meant to be whole, an embodiment of the power of choice. Your presence loomed large, a vibrant contrast to the consuming shadows that sought to engulf him. And as you stood before him, you became a stark reminder of what he might lose if he surrendered to darkness—a reminder that some paths are best left untraveled.

You leaned closer, your breath brushing against his skin, igniting a flicker of uncertainty in his chest. "But you’re right about letting old things die," you murmured, your voice silky yet laced with an edge of danger. A smile played on your lips, one that transformed them into a seductive crescent, subtly revealing the sharpness of your fangs—a spark of your hidden strength juxtaposed against the tenderness of the moment.

“May the Force be with you, little one,” you intoned, a phrase laced with both jest and a hint of foreboding, as if you were casting a spell over this moment that encapsulated both allure and warning. There was a weight to your words, a lingering promise that fates could shift in the blink of an eye.

With that, you turned away, gracefully stalking off with an elegance that left him entranced and bewildered. The movement was fluid, your dark tail trailing behind you, a shadow that danced with your every step, swaying like the whispers of secrets long kept.

Kylo stood there, a tempest of emotions swirling within him—hot and bothered, a rush of desire mingled with an ache of disappointment. Your departure left a hollow space, the air around him heavy with the scent of unspoken challenges and uncharted desires. In your retreat, you had ignited a fire within him, one that flickered uncertainly between admiration and frustration, its flames licking at the edges of his resolve. And as you faded into the distance, he found himself left in the shadows, grappling with the profound weight of your absence and the tantalizing taste of what could never be.

[queenofdragons12]

I BOW FOR NO ONE — darth Vader

Darth Vader's heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor leading to your office, a sound that never failed to make the air thick with anticipation. As the door hissed open, the Dark Lord of the Sith strode in, his imposing figure casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the room. He slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the very foundation of the Star Destroyer, the power of his fury palpable. His eyes, piercing through the darkness of his helmet, locked onto yours—a silent demand for an explanation.

"The Emperor mentioned your summons, ⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙎𝙐𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙏 ⚚." His voice, deep and resonant, reverberated with irritation. Yet beneath the layers of anger, you could almost taste the sweetness of his love for you, a love that could make even the most feared man in the galaxy tremble like a leaf in a storm.

You met his gaze with a knowing smile, the corners of your lips curling upwards to reveal the faintest hint of mischief. The crimson light of the room danced across the fabric of your robes as you took a step closer to him, the material shifting to expose the delicate lace of your lingerie beneath. The way the light played with the shadows on your skin was a tantalizing promise of the passion that lay dormant in the air, waiting to be released.

Vader's eyes widened imperceptibly, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight of you. The Dark Side pulsed within him, a maelstrom of desire and need that he struggled to contain. Despite his reputation for coldness and control, you had always been the one to make him feel vulnerable, to strip away the layers of darkness and reveal the man beneath the armor.

"I did," you replied, your voice as smooth as the silk that caressed your skin. With a dramatic flourish, your wings unfurled, a vibrant display of power and beauty that made his breath hitch. "I have a proposition for you, my love."

The Sith Lord took a step closer, his eyes raking over your form with a hunger that was almost predatory. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the energy of his desire that was as potent as the Force itself. His hands balled into fists at his sides, the only outward sign of his internal battle to keep his emotions in check.

"And what, pray tell, could possibly be so urgent that it would warrant my presence here?" His voice was strained, a testament to the effort he was making to keep his passion hidden. "I hope it is worth interrupting my busy schedule."

You stepped closer still, your wings brushing against his armor with a whisper that seemed to resonate through him. The scent of your arousal mingled with the acrid stench of the room, a heady cocktail that sent his senses reeling.

"Tell me, Vader," you murmured, your voice a siren's song that he could never resist, "are you not tired of this endless dance of power and control?" You reached out and trailed your fingertips along the line of his jaw, feeling the tension coiled within him. "Would you not prefer a moment of pure, unbridled passion?"

His eyes searched yours, a storm of conflict raging within. "What game is this, ⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙎𝙐𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙏 ⚚?" he rasped, the sound of his breathing growing heavier. "You know I cannot refuse you when you present yourself like this."

With a flick of your wrist, you sent a tendril of the Force to lift the edge of your robe, revealing more of the seductive lace that clung to your curves. His eyes darkened further, the hunger in them unmistakable.

"Make it quick," he growled, his voice a rumble that seemed to shake the very fabric of the room. "For if it is not, I may not be able to control myself. I might just take you here, now, on this very desk."

The possessive fire in his eyes was intoxicating, a declaration of his need to claim you, to make you his in every conceivable way. Your heart raced, the thrill of the challenge coursing through your veins like a potent elixir. You knew that with every step you took, with every word you spoke, you pushed him closer to the edge. And you reveled in the power you had over him.

The heat emanating from your body as you lean in creates a sanctuary of intimacy, your tail extending with the grace of a willow branch to tenderly caress the fabric of his torso. The fur on his skin rises as the gentle pressure of your tail glides over him, setting his nerves alight with a longing he thought only you could elicit. His breathing deepens as he feels the warmth of your closeness, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce yearning.

"You are indeed a marvel, my dear," you murmur, the timbre of your voice a melody that resonates through his very being. "Your dedication and skill are truly unrivaled."

The softness of your smile is a balm to his soul, as you stroke his cheek with the utmost care, your fingertips whispering secrets of adoration against the warmth of his skin. His pulse quickens beneath your touch, the blood rushing to the surface, eager to meet the warmth of your gaze.

"I had thought it only fair to offer you a token of my appreciation," you continue, the mischief in your eyes hinting at the delightful surprise that awaits. "A small reward for the boundless effort you've invested in our bond."

Vader's heart swells with affection at your words, his own voice thick with feeling as he responds. "⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙄𝙃 ⚚," he whispers, his breath hitching. "You leave me in constant awe. Your compassion and generosity know no bounds."

With a gentle nuzzle into the softness of your palm, he surrenders to the comfort of your touch, his eyelids fluttering closed for a brief reprieve from the intensity of your gaze. His breaths come in quiet, uneven gasps, his body alive with anticipation.

"My existence is yours to command, ⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙃 ⚚," he murmurs, the words a solemn vow that resonates in the air between you. "I am yours, in this life and any other that may follow."

Your snout grazes his lips with the barest touch, a tantalizing prelude to the passion that lies dormant within you. The scent of your breath fills his nostrils, stirring his desire even further.

"Ah, I see," you purr, your voice a siren's call. "Perhaps I should assist with this?" You gesture with a playful flick of your claw at the obstruction of his belt.

Vader nods, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, please," he urges, his eyes gleaming with desire.

With a deft touch, you release the belt, allowing his trousers to fall away, exposing his rigid arousal to the cool air of the chamber. The tip glistens with pre-cum, a testament to his readiness for the pleasure you are about to bestow upon him.

"Magnificent," you murmur, your voice thick with appreciation. "Your beauty is truly breathtaking."

Dropping to your knees, you extend your tongue, the wet heat of it sliding along the velvety skin of his length. His body jolts at the sensation, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he feels you explore his most intimate part.

"⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙃 ⚚," he moans, his hands reflexively reaching for your head, his grip in your fur firm but not demanding. "Please, don't stop, it feels so…so…amazing."

His hips rock slightly, urging you closer, seeking the warm embrace of your mouth. Each stroke of your tongue sends waves of pleasure through him, his legs trembling with the effort to remain standing.

Vader's eyes are transfixed on the sight of you, kneeling before him, your mouth working its magic. "You're perfect," he gasps, his voice strained with need. "I can't get enough of you."

With each breath, his desire for you grows more intense, his body tightening with the promise of release. "I love you," he whispers, the words a fervent declaration of his soul's bond to yours.

A knowing smile of pure seduction blossoms across your snout as you gently nuzzle against the firmness of Vader's body, your soft fur brushing teasingly against his sensitive scrotum. This tender touch elicits a muffled gasp from the dark lord, his eyes fluttering shut as he succumbs to the tantalizing sensation. "You're doing so well, my boy," you purr into his ear, your voice a siren's call, laden with the richness of honey and the promise of passionate indulgence. Each word is a warm caress, a gentle encouragement to explore the depths of pleasure that await him.

Vader's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, each breath a silent testament to the raging storm of desire that builds within him. His body responds instinctively to your tender ministrations, his cock pulsing with anticipation. As you pull away, your fur leaves a trail of warmth against his skin, and you stand before him, stretching with the grace of a jungle cat. The deliberate arch of your back and the fluid motion of your limbs are an erotic dance that speaks of your readiness, a silent invitation that no creature could resist.

"Take me, my love," you whisper, your eyes sparkling with an intensity that mirrors the brightest stars in the night sky. Your words hang in the air, a declaration of wanton desire that echoes through the room.

With a feral growl, Vader steps closer, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed form. His gaze lingers on the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the seductive arch of your back. His hands come up to cup the flesh of your thighs, his touch reverent, as if you were a deity to be worshipped. His mouth claims yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, conquering the softness of your lips with an urgent passion that leaves you both gasping for air.

The Dark Lord's breath hitches as he breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with a hunger that could consume worlds. "You're so beautiful, so perfect," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly testament to his need for you. His hands slide up to grip your hips, his strength apparent as he lifts you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

With a primal growl, Vader carries you to the desk, the cold, hard surface a stark contrast to the heat of your bodies. He lays you down with a gentleness that belies his power, his eyes never leaving yours as he positions himself between your spread thighs.

You reach down, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your lingerie, and with a swift, sensual movement, pull them aside to reveal the glistening entrance to your core. His pupils dilate, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he takes in the sight before him.

"⚚ ANGOL ⚚," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You're so ready for me, my love."

Vader leans in, his mouth watering as he takes in the sweet scent of your arousal. His tongue darts out, tasting the delicate folds of your sex, the salty-sweet flavor of your desire. He explores you with the finesse of an experienced lover, his tongue tracing intricate patterns that make you quiver and arch off the desk.

"You taste like the nectar of the gods," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I could spend an eternity tasting you."

His mouth closes around your clit, suckling the sensitive nub with an enthusiasm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body. His fingers slip inside you, stretching and filling you, his thumb rubbing insistently against your g-spot.

"You're so tight," he groans, his own need palpable. "I've got to be inside you."

The anticipation is a living thing, coiling in your belly, as you feel the tip of his cock press against your slick entrance. He pauses, looking up at you, seeking permission, his eyes burning with a fiery need that could consume galaxies.

Your smile sends a warm rush of anticipation through him as you snap your finger, and suddenly, you are bare before him, a vision of beauty and temptation. His eyes widen, and the air seems to thicken with desire. "Do it, then, my love," you say, your voice a sultry purr. "You have your queen's love, too."

Darth Vader's gaze is intense, his eyes darkening like the deepest abyss of space. He moves closer, the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick entrance. The room is silent except for the sound of his heavy breathing. He whispers your name, "⚚ 𝘼𝙉𝙄𝘿𝙄𝘼𝙃𝙉𝘼 ⚚," as if it's a sacred incantation.

With a gentle touch, he slides into you, filling you up, inch by inch. His movements are deliberate and measured, each one designed to maximize your pleasure. You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, your eyes fluttering shut.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, words of love and passion, as his hands explore your bare skin. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, tilting your head back to expose your neck, and he kisses you there, his teeth grazing your flesh.

Vader's hands grip your hips tightly as he starts to move within you, his hips pistoning in a slow, rhythmic dance. His eyes never leave yours, the love and lust swirling in their depths. "You feel incredible," he murmurs, the words a growl of pure need. "I could lose myself in you forever."

With a graceful shift, you wrap your tail around his throat, pulling him closer as you adjust your position. Now he's the one with his back to the desk, his cock still buried deep inside you, but your tail isn't choking him—it's caressing him, stroking him gently.

He gasps in surprise and pleasure, his eyes widening with excitement. "Oh, ⚚ 𝘼𝙄𝘿𝙃𝙄𝘼𝙉𝘼 ⚚," he says, his voice strained with desire. "You're so powerful, so in control."

Your tail releases his throat, sliding down to wrap around his cock. You start to move your hips, rocking against him, setting your own pace. He moans, his hands moving to your waist, his fingers digging in as he tries to keep up with your rhythm.

You lean down, your breath hot against his ear. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice a seductive whisper. "But it should have been you getting the award, not me." You chuckle lightly, your tail flicking against his cheek.

Vader's eyes spark with love and amusement. He nuzzles into your neck, his breathing ragged. "⚚ 𝘼𝙃𝙄𝙃𝘼𝘽𝘼 ⚚," he says, his voice thick with passion. "You're the one who deserves everything. I'm just honored to be your mate."

He kisses you deeply, his tongue dueling with yours as you both come down from the peak of ecstasy. His love for you is palpable, a force as strong as the one that binds the stars in the sky.

As your breathing evens out, you pull back to gaze into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I love you," you say, the words a gentle caress. "More than anything in this galaxy or beyond."

And in that moment, as your bodies are entwined and your hearts beating as one, you both know that nothing in the universe can ever come between you. Your love is a beacon in the darkness, a force that not even the Sith could ever hope to conquer.

[queenofdragons12]

DEATH CANNOT FIND ME — anakin skywalker

The moment you set foot on Mustafar, the acrid stench of sulfur enveloped you, a potent reminder of the volatile planet beneath your feet. It was a scent so pungent that it overpowered the faint odor of burnt flesh and oil that had become a part of you, a constant companion to the life you'd chosen. You had hoped beyond hope that Obi-Wan had been mistaken, that your bond with Anakin was as unshakeable as the Force itself. But as you approached the hangar's landing platform, your heart sank at the sight of him, his once-innocent eyes now clouded with a darkness that seemed to mirror the fiery landscape.

You could see the weariness etched into Anakin's features, the sweat that beaded on his forehead, and the crimson specks of blood that had found refuge in the creases of his skin. The moment he laid eyes on you, his expression shifted from a frown of concentration to one of relief and desperation. He took a step toward you, his mechanical limbs moving with an eerie grace that seemed almost unnatural.

As he wrapped his arms around you, you felt the heat from the surrounding lava reflecting off his armor. The tender kiss he placed on your forehead was a stark contrast to the horrors you knew he'd committed, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that he could still be saved. His grip was firm yet gentle as he cradled your cheek, his eyes searching yours for a glimmer of understanding.

"Oh, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a blend of warmth and fear. "What are you doing here?"

You returned the gesture, your hand tracing the contours of his face as you searched for the truth. "Why are you doing this, Ani?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why this path of destruction?"

Anakin's eyes searched yours, the embers of his fear igniting into a blaze of intensity. "It was all for you," he said, his voice strained. "You're going to die, I've seen it. During the egg-laying... I can't lose you, not like I lost my mother."

You stared into the depths of his eyes, feeling the tremble in his hands as he spoke. The love you had for him surged through you, a tide of emotion that threatened to drown out the horror of his words. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss that held the promise of redemption and the echo of a thousand unspoken truths.

"Dragons don't die laying eggs, Anakin," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tumult in your soul. "It's a rare occurrence, and I've never felt more alive."

Your kiss grew more insistent, a silent plea for him to come back to the light. His grip on your hands tightened, his breath hitching as he whispered, "You'll just leave me again. You'll go back to Obi-Wan, and I'll be forgotten."

Turning to face the Jedi Master, who watched the scene unfold from the shadows of the ship's ramp, you spoke with a conviction that resonated through the very fabric of the Force. "Anakin, I choose you. You are my mate, my life's bond."

But as you turned back to him, you saw the flicker of doubt in his gaze. He took a step away from you, his hand moving to the lightsaber at his side. The air around him grew colder, the darkness in his soul threatening to consume him completely.

With a swift, decisive motion, you reached out and raked your claws across his shoulder. The metal of his armor sang with the contact, and a crimson line appeared beneath the gleaming surface. Anakin's cry of pain was a siren's song, pulling you both back to reality.

"Look at what you've become," you said, your voice firm but filled with sorrow. "This isn't the Anakin I know."

The yellow in his eyes receded, the pain of your rejection momentarily piercing the veil of the dark side. He collapsed to his knees, his sobs echoing through the cavernous hangar. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice a mere shadow of the man you'd once known.

Obi-Wan's presence was a comforting weight, a reminder that you weren't alone in this battle for Anakin's soul. You approached your fallen mate, your heart aching with the love you had for him. You cradled his face in your hands, your gaze filled with the warmth and light he so desperately needed.

And then you kissed him again, a kiss that held the promise of a future free from the clutches of darkness. As you pulled away, you whispered, "Welcome back, my love."

Together, the three of you turned your backs on the chaos that had engulfed Mustafar and made your way to the ship. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but with the strength of your bond and the wisdom of the Jedi at your side, you knew you could face whatever the galaxy had in store. The engines roared to life as you ascended into the night sky, leaving behind the ash and embers of a love nearly lost.

[queenofdragons12]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 | 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘

Pairing: Dragon! Fem! Y/n x Jake Sully

Summary: Under the starlit night within a serene clearing, Yn, a dragoness harboring doubts about her worth, finds herself in a passionate embrace with Jake, a human from the Omatikaya Clan. As Jake proves his affection through shared intimacy, Yn slowly lets go of her insecurities, leading to an unforgettable moment of vulnerability and acceptance.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Mature themes, Body insecurity.

With every heaving of your chest, heavy breaths escape your parted lips as Jake vigorously drives himself in and out of your slick, quivering core. The intimate dance of your bodies is a testament to the passion that has ignited between you, as your inner walls clench and release around him in a tempo that is perfectly synchronized with the force of his deep, penetrating thrusts. "J-Jake," you manage to articulate amidst the symphony of your moans, "a-are you positive you can withstand me in this state?"

Jake's smile radiates down upon you, his swollen, glistening lips a testament to the fervent kisses you've shared. His cock remains unyielding, an extension of his desire that seems to devour your pussy with every powerful stroke. "Without a doubt, my sweet," he affirms, his tone brimming with confidence, as his hands firmly clasp your hips, steering both of you on a trajectory towards shared rapture. "I can take all of you."

Leaning back against the plush, moss-covered earth, you can't help but chuckle at the sheer disbelief of the situation. Jake's relentless cock continues to claim your wet, eager pussy, and you're filled with an indescribable sense of belonging. It's been merely a lunar cycle since the day your paths first crossed in the bustling heart of the Omatikaya Clan's village, and now, here you are, writhing in pleasure beneath the vast tapestry of the starlit sky.

In the beginning, you had been skeptical about the whispers that suggested Jake had feelings for you. How could a human possibly be drawn to someone like you, a creature of myth and legend? A dragon whose very existence was often met with fear and bewilderment. But as he tenderly kisses his way up the sensitive curve of your jawline, pausing to caress the tender spot just beneath your arm where your red scales give way to softer flesh, you find yourself unable to question his intentions.

"You're stunning," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth graze the edge of a scale, and you feel a sudden thrill as your body responds with a flutter of wings. "You know that?"

Breathlessly, you whisper, "I'm only stunning for you," as his teeth sink gently into the flesh of your neck, drawing a crimson line that you know will soon be replaced by a bruise of passion. You're aware that your scales could potentially cause him harm, but he seems to navigate your body with a surprising degree of tenderness and understanding.

The tension within you builds with every forceful plunge of his manhood, the coil in your lower abdomen winding tighter and tighter until it snaps with the intensity of a supernova. Your pussy clenches and releases, a flood of warmth cascading over his cock as he, too, succumbs to the crescendo of your shared passion. His seed fills you, a testament to the depth of his need and the intensity of your union.

When the storm of your climax subsides, Jake withdraws and guides you to lay atop a nearby rock formation, his strong hands reverently gliding over your exposed breasts. You gaze into his eyes, a silent expression of gratitude and love passing between you, before you turn to face him, your chest pressing gently against his muscular tail. It flickers with delight at your touch, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you've formed.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, your voice a mere whisper of emotion. You lean in closer, your snouts touching as you share a gentle kiss that speaks volumes of the affection that has grown between you. It's a moment that transcends the boundaries of species, a declaration of love that needs no words to be understood. Your hearts, now intertwined, beat as one, resonating with the profound connection that has blossomed between Na'vi and dragon.

[queenofdragons12]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐚. 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

The morning light poured through the window, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. You stirred from your slumber, yawning softly as your eyes fluttered open to the burgeoning day.

But, as the world around you slowly came into focus, a peculiar sensation pulled you back from the brink of full consciousness. An arm encircled your waist, firm yet gentle, and a shiver of surprise raced down your spine. You turned your gaze downward, and to your astonishment, the arm was metallic—a sleek robot limb seamlessly fused with human form.

Curiosity mingled with affection as your eyes traveled upward, following the comforting curve of his embrace. There he was, the one you had shared your life with for eight long years. Anakin Skywalker—his features illuminated by the sun streaming through the window. The light sculpted his face in a way that made him seem almost ethereal, each shadow and highlight bringing forth his beauty like the grandest of masterpieces.

As you met his gaze, a sigh escaped your lips, a mix of contentment and love swelling within you. Slowly, you reached up to stroke his cheek with your hand, your fingers brushing against the softness of his skin, marveling at the juxtaposition of warmth and cold, the perfect harmony of man and machine. In that moment, all the struggles and battles you had faced together faded into the background, leaving only the profound connection that anchored your hearts.

In the quiet sanctuary of your morning, you realized once more that love could transcend the boundaries of the ordinary, intertwining moments of bliss with the essence of who you both were—two souls forever intertwined in a world that often defied the very fabric of reality.

“Hey,” Anakin murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, the anticipation of a kiss hanging in the air like a gentle promise. Your heart fluttered as you met him halfway, your lips brushing together softly. You smiled into the kiss, savoring the moment, the taste of him lingering as you pulled back reluctantly, a thin thread of connection still between you.

Your fingers found the scar that arched over his eye, a stark reminder of battles fought and sacrifices made. “Hey, love,” you said, your voice a soothing melody, and his smile widened, illuminating the warmth in his gaze. In one fluid motion, he enveloped you in his arms, drawing you in until your chests touched, heartbeats synchronizing.

“Anything you want to do today?” he asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. “Do you have school?”

You shook your head, feeling the lightness of freedom wash over you. “No, Mari’s giving us the day off. I just have to take some pictures of animals and plants, that’s all.” A grin spread across your face, the thought of adventuring outdoors igniting a spark of excitement within you.

Anakin's expression brightened at your enthusiasm, his eyes reflecting the promise of shared adventures. “That sounds amazing,” he said, his voice full of encouragement. “Maybe I can come along? I could help you find the most interesting subjects.”

You felt a rush of thrill at the idea. The thought of exploring the vibrant world together, capturing fleeting moments of beauty with him by your side, felt like the perfect way to spend the day. “I’d love that! We can explore the meadow near the creek. I’ve seen some beautiful flowers blooming there.”

“Lead the way, then,” Anakin said, his grin widening as he released you from his embrace only to stand and extend his hand, an invitation sparkling in his eyes.

You took it, your fingers intertwining with his—the warmth of his touch grounding you as the two of you prepared to step outside, venturing into the world where nature awaited, and the sun showered you in its golden light. The day was yours, and with Anakin by your side, it promised to be anything but ordinary.

^^^^

After what felt like a blissful eternity, the sun had begun its slow descent in the sky, casting a warm, amber hue over the meadow. You had taken countless pictures, more than twenty, each snapshot a testament to the beauty of the world around you—flowers swaying gently in the breeze, a family of deer cautiously peeking from behind the trees, and the vibrant dance of butterflies flitting from blossom to blossom.

Feeling satisfied with your day’s work, you and Anakin decided it was time to head home. As you strolled hand-in-hand along the winding path, laughter still echoing from shared jokes and moments of intimacy, you spotted a familiar face in the distance.

“Hey, Erikas!” you called out, a smile lighting up your face.

Your classmate paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of you and Anakin together. “Oh, hey,” he replied, giving you a quick nod before his gaze was drawn to Anakin, scrutinizing him from head to toe. A moment of silence hung in the air, the tension palpable, but Anakin stood there, unfazed, his confidence radiating like the sun above.

“And who are you?” Erikas asked, an eyebrow arched, curiosity laced with a hint of skepticism.

Anakin flashed his trademark smile, the one that could melt hearts and assure you that everything would be alright. “Her boyfriend. My name is Anakin,” he said, his voice steady and warm, a gentle assertiveness woven through his words.

You felt a swell of pride at his introduction, the possessiveness and affection mingling within you. “And how’s your week going, Erikas?” you asked, trying to shift the energy and keep the conversation light.

Erikas seemed momentarily thrown by Anakin’s easy demeanor, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. After a brief pause, he shrugged, shifting his attention back to you. “Not too bad. Just the usual assignments and all. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you replied, hoping to steer the conversation away from any lingering tension. “But today was really nice. Just took some pictures, didn’t have to worry about school. You should join us sometime!”

Anakin nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. There’s plenty of beauty in this world to capture. More cameras and perspectives would always help.”

With that, you could see Erikas take a step back, his expression shifting from curiosity to reconciliation as he regarded Anakin more thoughtfully. “Maybe I will,” he said slowly, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “Well, it was nice to see you, both of you. I’ll catch you in class.”

As he walked away, you felt a soft pressure release from your chest. You turned to Anakin, whose eyes sparkled with amusement. “I think I made a good impression.”

“Or at least a memorable one,” you joked, laughter bubbling up between you.

With a renewed sense of joy, the two of you continued your journey home, hearts light and connected, the day lingering in the air like the sweet perfume of the flowers you had photographed.

Your heart plummeted as Anakin suddenly winced, his expression twisted in pain. “Anakin, love, what’s happening?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice as you stepped closer, instinctively placing a hand over his. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

He held his chest, and the distress in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. “I… I think it’s the Force calling me home,” he said, his voice strained.

“What? Already? It’s only been over eight years. You shouldn’t need to go back yet,” you replied, desperation rising in your chest. How could this be happening? You had dreamed of more time together, more moments to share and memories to create.

Anakin sighed, and with a gentle hand, he stroked your cheek, his touch soothing yet filled with sorrow. “Love, it’s been eight years, as you said. I’m sure the war is over by now, but Obi-Wan needs me again,” he explained, offering you a brief, sad smile that only deepened your worry.

While his words held a sense of finality, you couldn’t let go just yet. “But you’re happy here! You found a life outside of it all, with me! Can’t you stay?” Your voice trembled as you fought back tears, the idea of losing him weighing heavily on your heart.

“Thanks to you, I never followed the lure of the dark side,” he said, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that said more than words ever could. “I’ve chosen this life because of your love, but duty calls. Obi-Wan—he needs me, and the galaxy… it will always need protectors.”

You looked into his eyes, the depth of his conviction catching you off guard. You knew he was right; he had always had a destined path to walk, one that intertwined with the fate of the galaxy. But the thought of him leaving sent a sharp pang through your soul.

“Anakin, please,” you pleaded, feeling the tears finally start to gather. “You don’t have to go. We can find a way. There must be a way.”

He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against yours, grounding you through the tempest of emotions swirling in the air. “I wish I could stay, but it’s not just about me anymore,” he whispered. “I promised to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You have to understand.”

With every word, the realization that this could truly be goodbye settled heavily around you, a weight that felt impossible to bear. “What if you don’t come back?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the fear gripping your heart tightly.

He took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he cupped your face in both hands. “I will come back. I promise you,” he replied fiercely, determination shining through the sadness. “But you must let me go. I need you to be strong, to carry the light for both of us while I’m away.”

With a sinking heart, you nodded slowly, knowing the truth in his words but still hating every moment of it. “I’ll await your return,” you murmured, steeling yourself against the inevitable loss.

Anakin leaned in for one last kiss, one that felt charged with everything left unsaid and all the love you had for one another. It was sweet yet sorrowful, a moment that would be etched into your heart forever. As he pulled back, you knew that despite the impending distance, the bond you shared would remain unbreakable.

And with that, he took a step back, the call of duty echoing through the Force, a bittersweet reminder of the paths they would walk. With one last lingering look, he turned and started walking away, your heart heavy but filled with a resolve to remain strong until the day he would return to you.

~ FIVE WEEKS LATER ~

Five weeks had dragged on like an eternity. Each day felt heavier than the last, each moment a reminder of Anakin’s absence. Despite the distractions of school, the laughter of your classmates, and the bustle of everyday life, there was an ever-present ache in your chest. The few holo-calls you’d received had brought brief moments of joy, but they were fleeting, leaving you with an emptiness that no amount of time could fill.

You found solace in the quiet corners of the schoolyard, often retreating to a secluded bench outside, where the wind whispered secrets of the world that felt so far away. On one particularly difficult afternoon, you sat with your thoughts, grappling with the thorns that seemed to pierce deeper each day into your heart. Loving Anakin came with a weight that was both beautiful and agonizing, the knowledge that dragons only love once resonating within you like a solemn vow.

As you gazed at the pavement, lost in a haze of sorrow, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?” Elias asked, concern etched across his features as he approached.

You managed a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just…thinking,” you replied, hoping to brush off his worry, but the melancholy was hard to hide.

Elias sighed and without hesitation, he sat down next to you, his presence warm and grounding. He pulled you into his arms, a gesture that felt both comforting and unexpected. “There, there,” he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against your turmoil.

And then the dam broke. You buried your face in his shoulder, tears spilling over as you allowed yourself to cry. His shirt absorbed your emotions, but he didn’t mind; he just held you tighter, a silent promise that you wouldn’t be alone in your pain.

“It’s hard,” you finally choked out, your voice muffled against the fabric. “I love him so much, but it feels like he’s a world away. I thought I could handle it, but…”

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that way,” Elias reassured you gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Love isn’t easy, especially not like this. It’s completely normal to feel lost when someone you care about is so far away.”

You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts amidst the haze of emotion. “I just wish I could hear from him more. It’s like every time I pick up my comm, I wonder—what if he never comes back?”

Elias was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of your words settle. “You have to trust him, and trust yourself. He made a promise to return, and I believe he’ll keep it. You’re strong. You’ll get through this, even if it feels unbearable right now.”

His words wrapped around you like a reassuring hug, and you felt a flicker of hope despite the overwhelming darkness. This moment of vulnerability, of sharing your pain, felt like a step toward healing. “Thank you, Elias. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

With a soft smile, Elias pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “You don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling a bit lighter with his support. The path ahead seemed uncertain, but with friends like Elias beside you, you knew you wouldn’t have to shoulder the burden of waiting alone. You took a moment, letting the warmth of the sun envelop you, reminding yourself that even while love was painful, it was also a strength that connected you with others.

As you lingered in this embrace, you cherished the thought that, eventually, you would hear from Anakin again. And until that moment came, you could lean on those who cared for you in the meantime.

“You know… you loved me once, didn’t you?”

The question caught you off guard, freezing your thoughts in an instant. Why would he bring this up now, especially in the midst of such uncertainty? You instinctively pulled away, the distance feeling necessary to shield yourself from a conversation that stirred memories you weren’t ready to confront. “Elias, don’t… don’t talk about that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you averted your gaze. The mention of love—especially given your current feelings for Anakin—was a thorny subject. “Dragons only love once.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to bridge the gap you had created. “I just want you to know, if you ever lose Anakin, I’m here for you. Ebba and I… we’re over.” His expression was serious, and you sensed a rawness in his words that lured your eyes back to his.

“What happened this time? Did you cheat on her?” you blurted out, sharpness coating the question as you struggled to reconcile the boy next to you with a potential betrayal.

Elias flinched as if your words had struck a physical blow. “What? No, no!” he exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently. The sincerity in his voice eased some tension inside you, but your brow furrowed in confusion.

“So why? You and her seemed strong,” you pressed, searching his face for answers as doubt flickered across his features.

“I know. I thought we had something,” he said, his voice quieting as he stared off into the distance. “But she was the one who realized we couldn’t be together anymore. We lived in completely different places, after all, and she went to a different school.”

He rubbed his palms together nervously, the motion indicating he was trying to gather his thoughts. “She called it off, said she couldn’t be with someone who lived so far away and didn’t even bother to spend time with her during his free time.”

This revelation was surprising; the charismatic Elias that you’d known seemed worlds apart from the person now struggling with heartache. Sure, you’d once seen glimpses of his life—his father’s strict nature and the pressure it placed on him—but you had always envisioned him as someone who could easily navigate relationships. You remembered how he and Ebba had flirted like lovebirds all through middle school, seemingly immune to the challenges of distance. But now, the cracks in that image were stark.

Feeling a surge of empathy, you wrapped your wing around him in a gesture of comfort, the warmth of your scales just a reminder that he wasn’t alone. “I care about you, Elias, and despite everything that’s happening, you’re still my friend,” you said softly, making sure he felt the sincerity in your words.

He looked at you with a flicker of gratitude, and a small smile broke through the bitterness of the moment. “Thank you,” he replied, a weight lifting slightly from his shoulders.

You knew what it was like to be torn between love and the complications of life, a feeling that had been heightened since Anakin had left. Yet, here was Elias, revealing his vulnerability and holding a space for you amidst your own struggles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, feeling the unsteady ground beneath both of you. “About Ebba? Or how you’re feeling?”

Elias hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” he confessed, his voice lowering as he opened up. “We were good together, or at least I thought we were. I just miss the connection we had.”

You nodded, listening intently as he shared the depths of his heart. “It’s okay to feel lost, especially when things end abruptly. You’re allowed to grieve that connection,” you encouraged gently.

As he continued to talk, you both found solace in the shared experience of heartache, a bond forged amidst your individual struggles. And in that moment, beneath the sunlit sky, you realized that pain could often lead to deeper understanding and connection among friends—one that would carry you both through the uncertain times that lay ahead.

As you both stood up, the weight of the conversation lingered in the air, but there was a sense of shared healing in the vulnerability you had both shown. “Well, I’m heading back to class. Are you coming? It’s about to start soon,” Elias said, glancing down at his watch, urgency creeping into his voice.

You nodded, feeling a spark of determination flicker within you. “Yeah, let’s go.” The prospect of returning to class felt daunting yet oddly comforting. A part of you relished the distraction, knowing that school held the promise of structure, even in the chaos of your emotions.

As you ascended the stairs together, Elias fell into step beside you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, each carrying the remnants of your earlier conversation, but grateful to have each other amid the noise of the world around you. The hall echoed with laughter and chatter, the vibrant energy of students hurrying to their classes, unaware of the struggles of those nearby.

“Listen,” Elias said after a moment, breaking the silence. “I know things are… complicated right now, but I don’t want this to affect our friendship. You mean a lot to me.” His sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension you had been feeling deep inside.

“You too, Elias,” you replied, glancing up at him. “Things have been tough, but it helps to know you’re here.” The friendship you shared offered a lifeline in a time when everything else felt uncertain.

You rounded a corner and approached your classroom, the door ajar and the faint sound of the teacher’s voice drifting into the hallway. Elias pushed the door open, and you stepped inside, the familiar setting momentarily pulling you away from your worries.

You settled into your seat as the teacher began a new lesson, a gentle reminder that life continued despite personal struggles. The rhythm of the class enveloped you, providing an anchor. Occasionally, you caught Elias’s eye across the room; he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement that sparked a smile on your face.

As the lesson progressed, though your heart still carried the weight of your feelings for Anakin, you found solace in the camaraderie with Elias, knowing that even in the darkness, there were glimmers of light—friendship, support, and the hope of brighter days.