#How to Heat a Tent without Electricity

[khanger]

On June 3rd, Suad gave birth to Khaled under the constant threats of bombs and deaths in an overcrowded hospital. That lack of supplies forces her to leave on foot, walk a great distance, and live in the heat of August in a tent without access to electricity or clean water to keep baby Khaled cool down. Khaled has suffered multiple instances of a high fever, rashes and respiratory infection, and insect bites that triggered a very painful allergic reaction.

Have sympathy for a young mother and her 4-month-old baby who hasn't seen any moment of safety and peace. All his little life is nothing but pain, sickness, and displacement, and what more do you need to know about? Suad and her baby, what more to move you to care? How many posts have been circulating about my friend suffering? Please help my dear friend. Please get her and her baby and her family away from death and destruction.

Vetted by Nabulsi

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[dcxdpdabbles]

God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[iomoru]

hi! can you do kinich x reader (or whoever you like) where there's only one bed when they were out on a trip? can be suggestive or fluff, up to you! tyy

Sharing Warmth

A/n: sure thing venus anon! (≧∇≦)/, I'm very sorry for the late reply tho I ended up getting distracted by school work so I totally forgot about the reqs-

Genre: Modern Au!, Camping Au!, Fluff, Gn! Reader, Kinich x Reader, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: During a camping trip with friends, you forget to bring your bed, and with no spare available, Mualani suggests you share with Kinich. Though hesitant at first due to your growing attraction to him, you ask Kinich, who agrees without hesitation. As you lie beside each other, the tension builds, and the simple act of sharing a bed becomes intimate. Kinich eventually pulls you into his arms, creating a warm and comfortable closeness, as you fall asleep wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The evening sky above the campfire crackled with the last bits of flame, the vibrant warmth of the day slowly giving way to the coolness of the night. The stars twinkled above like scattered diamonds, and the soft sound of crickets filled the air. Kachina was wrapped comfortably in Mualani’s arms, both sharing a bedroll by the tent.

You glanced over at Kinich, who was busy laying out his own bedroll next to the one that should have been yours—if only you hadn’t forgotten to bring it. You rubbed your temples, frustrated at yourself for the careless mistake.

Mualani had suggested the camping trip, and though you loved the idea of being in nature with friends, you hadn’t expected to forget such an important thing. Now, as everyone settled down, you were left without a place to sleep.

“You can just sleep with Kinich!” Mualani suggested with a wink. “It’s not a big deal. He won’t mind, right?”

You hesitated, feeling a little flutter of nerves. Sure, Kinich was one of your closest friends, but you’d always noticed how good-looking he was—the sharp lines of his face, his warm, green-yellowish eyes that always seemed to linger on you a little longer than usual. Sharing a bedroll might make things...complicated.

Kinich looked up from his spot, catching your awkward silence. “You don’t have a bed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can share with me. I don’t mind.”

His voice was calm, and the easy confidence in his tone made it harder to refuse. The idea of lying beside him, wrapped in the same warmth, sent a spark of heat to your cheeks, but you nodded.

“Okay, if it’s not too much trouble,” you mumbled.

“No trouble at all.”

As you walked over and carefully slipped into the bedroll beside him, you were acutely aware of every inch between your bodies—or rather, how little space there was. His arm brushed against yours, and though it was a small touch, it felt electric. The soft sound of his breathing became more pronounced as the night settled in.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper in the dark.

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied, though your heart was racing.

After a few moments of quiet, Kinich shifted slightly, turning to face you. The faint moonlight allowed you to see the outline of his features—his eyes flicking between yours, as if searching for something.

“It’s kind of cozy like this,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I don’t mind sharing, but I didn’t expect it to feel...this nice.”

Your breath hitched. Was that a compliment? The way his eyes softened, the way his voice sounded—there was a warmth behind it, one that made the air between you feel heavier.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice just as soft. “It’s not so bad.”

Kinich’s hand, previously resting by his side, shifted closer to yours. Slowly, almost cautiously, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. The touch lingered, and then his hand fully intertwined with yours. It was a simple gesture, but it felt so intimate in the stillness of the night.

“You’re warmer than I thought,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re…really warm too,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the space between your faces feeling smaller and smaller. His gaze flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes. He hesitated, as if weighing his next move.

And then, in a bold, smooth motion, he pulled you gently into his arms, your bodies pressed together beneath the covers. His warmth surrounded you completely, and you could feel his breath on your skin, sending little shivers down your spine.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips close to your ear.

You swallowed, your heart racing even faster now. “Yeah…this is fine.”

Kinich’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch gentle yet firm. It felt natural, the way your body fit against his, as if you had both been waiting for this moment. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, his warmth seeping into you, and it was impossible to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his closeness.

The night passed with the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms, and though nothing more was said, the tension lingered in the air, charged with an unspoken understanding.

You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, a gentle rhythm that promised the night would be full of dreams.

A/n: guess who still haven't done their science homework! :3 (me.)

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[dracomalfoy7]

Sore Loser

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Y/N comes back to the dorm to see Fred who just lost a quidditch team to her house.

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Kissing, Sexual Activity Implied (18+) sorta?

A/N: You guys if I could I'd write the smut you deserve. P.S Request are open!

The dorm was eerily quiet as you made your way through the dimly lit halls of the castle. It was late, and most of the students were either still celebrating in the Slytherin common room or had turned in for the night. You could hear the muffled sounds of cheers and laughter echoing through the walls from the victory party still raging below, but it didn’t interest you. You had your own reason to celebrate, and it wasn’t in the common room.

Fred.

The image of him, his face tight with frustration, flashed through your mind. He had taken the loss hard—harder than you expected. Quidditch matches were always intense between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but this time, the stakes had been higher. Both houses had been tied for the House Cup, and now, thanks to Slytherin’s victory, the Cup was yours.

Fred was proud, competitive, and a Gryffindor through and through. He hated losing—especially to Slytherin, especially to you. The two of you had always had a tense rivalry on the field, but that rivalry spilled into something else off the pitch—something fiery and uncontrollable.

As you pushed open the door to his dorm, you found him exactly as you expected—sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders tense, his head in his hands.

“You’re here,” he muttered without looking up, his voice low and edged with frustration.

“I am,” you replied, closing the door softly behind you. You took a tentative step closer, trying to gauge his mood.

Fred finally looked up, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. “Came to rub it in, did you?” His words were sharp, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in them, the kind that only you ever saw.

“I didn’t—”

“Because if you did, you can leave,” he interrupted, standing abruptly. His height and presence loomed over you, but you didn’t flinch. You had faced him on the Quidditch pitch before, and you weren’t going to back down now. Not from this.

“I’m not here to rub it in,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I’m here because I wanted to see you.”

Fred scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Why? To tell me how brilliant your Seeker was? Or how my Keeper was shite today?”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the tension radiate from him. His heart was pounding beneath your palm. “No, Fred. I’m here because I knew you’d be upset. I just wanted to be here with you.”

He looked down at your hand on his chest, his jaw clenched. “I hate losing to you,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still filled with that same frustration.

You smirked despite the heaviness in the air. “I know. But you’ll get over it.”

Fred’s eyes snapped back to yours, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “You think it’s that easy?”

“No,” you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest slowly, teasing. “I think it’ll take more than a few minutes.”

Before you could say anything else, Fred’s hands were on you—rough, desperate, pulling you closer. His lips crashed against yours in a heated, bruising kiss, all of his anger and frustration spilling out. You kissed him back with equal force, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let him take control.

Fred’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist tightly, like he was afraid to let go. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, more needy. It was the kind of kiss that came after a fight—the kind that was filled with anger, desire, and a need to feel something other than the pain of losing.

He pushed you back against the bed, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the heat between you growing. You didn’t care about the match anymore, about the rivalry between your houses. All that mattered was this moment—him, you, and the way he made you feel.

Fred pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath heavy. “I should hate you right now.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find some hidden truth there. And then, without warning, he kissed her again.

This time, it was softer, slower, but no less intense. His hands slid up her sides, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, until she could feel the heat of his body seeping into hers. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pressed herself against him, her heart racing as their kiss deepened.

Fred groaned softly against her mouth, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. His hands moved to her lower back, pulling her tighter against him, his grip almost possessive. Y/N could feel the intensity of his need in every touch, every kiss, and it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

But she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

She broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that mirrored her own, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, the air between them thick with tension.

“Are you sure about this?” Fred asked, his voice rough, his hands still resting on her hips, but looser now, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”

His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and in that moment, all the hesitation, all the uncertainty seemed to melt away. He pulled her back into him, his lips finding hers once more, more insistent this time, more demanding.

Y/N’s body responded instantly, her hands moving to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. Fred broke the kiss just long enough to help her, his hands moving quickly to discard the fabric before pulling her back into him.

Her fingers roamed over his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his breath. He was all hard muscle and rough edges, and the sensation of his body pressed against hers sent a surge of desire coursing through her.

Fred’s hands were everywhere—her waist, her back, her hips—pulling her closer, guiding her until her back hit the wall behind them. Y/N gasped as the cold stone pressed against her, but the sensation was quickly forgotten as Fred’s lips found her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat.

Her breath hitched as his hands slid beneath her shirt, his fingers brushing over her skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She arched into him, her body craving more, needing more.

“Freddie,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he kissed his way down to her collarbone.

His only response was a low growl, his hands moving to her hips, lifting her up against the wall with ease. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed himself against her, his mouth returning to hers in a fierce, heated kiss.

It was all-consuming. His touch, his kiss, the feel of his body against hers. Y/N was lost in him, in the intensity of the moment, in the heat that seemed to burn between them. She could feel the weight of all the emotions they’d been holding back—the frustration, the tension, the desire—and it was like a dam had finally broken.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it all slowed down. Fred pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gripping her waist, holding her up.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes dark and filled with emotion. “I don’t just want this. I want you. All of you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, in the way he looked at her, that made her chest ache. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as she met his gaze.

“I’m yours, Freddie,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her. “I’ve always been yours.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. And then, with a soft, almost reverent kiss, Fred pulled her closer, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.

You both knew that when the sun rose, the rivalry would still be there. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Winner and loser. But tonight, none of that mattered.

[ana-bananya]

Asking for help is not easy, I ask for a small donation of only 20$ from each person, 20$ will save my family from death in Gaza 💔 Donate through the link in bio (gofundme) Together, we can achieve our goal within a day and provide crucial support to me and my family in Gaza. Your contribution means everything to us and in these difficult times your kindness is our greatest hope. We are very grateful for any assistance you can provide and thank you for your kindness and generosity in our time of need

I can't do $20 at this time, but I can give $10. I will reblog with my proof of donation once I make the donation and I'll encourage others to do the same.

$130/$50,000

Mahmoud's account hasn't been vetted to my knowledge, but it is credible. Please donate to him if you are able. His gfm was made back in February and only has $130.

Here is the family's situation, as explained by Mahmoud in the gfm:

"Dear beloved friends, My name is Mahmoud Alkhaldi. I am a Palestinian refugee living with my fiancée and family in a catastrophic situation-in tents- in Rafah. However, for 116+ days, me and my family have been under intense bombing and warplanes rockets in the Gaza strip. I’m asking funds to evacuate (5) members of my family from Gaza to a safe place in Egypt, including my younger brother (Mohammed, his wife, and his 1 and half year son Yasser), and me and my fiancée Sujood). It could be very expensive and costly to evacuate a war zone at a miserable time like this. We will need approximately $50000 and a lot of prayers.

My home was cozy, beautiful, and warm before the war. Here is some pictures for our house before the war

Our home was targeted in a tank bombing on the 25th of November 2023 that left it unlivable, along with the entire neighborhood of Al-Burij refugee camp, in Gaza City.

When we returned back to our home to get some needed itemsand clothes, we found that Israeli soldiers also steal our belongings. Since that day, my family has been sleeping in a miserable tent in Rafah, in the south of Gaza, which has become a home for all people from the Gaza strip, whose homes were also destroyed by airstrikes, but they have survived thus far.

I can't express how useless and depressed we felt after finding out what they'd been through and are currently going through. Each moment, we worry about losing them. Without connection settings, we cannot constantly contact them. During the moment of typing, over 25,0000 individuals have been killed in Gaza. They are without electrical power or heating for a period of three months, food is limited, and their drinking water is unsafe for human consumption. My family's only hope is to evacuate to to a safer place out of Gaza. My family went through the loss of several friends, and many of them have lost their spouses and children. I am afraid of losing my family. They are the light that leads me through my life. I cannot live or survive without them."

[admirxation]

彡 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟕𝐭𝐡 - 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Jean and reader have some fun behind the bleachers (wc: 1.6k)

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader x Jean Kirschtein. modern/college au, footballer/cheerleader, 18+ smut mdni, porn without plot, exhibitionism, a little bit of the knee thing (iykyk), blowjob, titty fucking, and cum -> you’ve been warned; continue at your own discretion

The crisp autumn air wrapped about you two, cooling to the heat ignited between you two as you had your hands wrapped around Jean’s neck, his hands roaming over your back and hips as he pulled you in closer to kiss those soft and pillowy lips. You two were tucked behind the bleachers, hidden in the shadows of the field, your back pressing against the cold metal beams as the faint sound of wet interlocking was heard between you two. You felt your stomach tighten as you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, gently pushing you further in like there could be any more distance broken with how your chests were pressed against one another; feeling each other's quickening heartbeat in the make-out session shared between you two.

You heard the faint echo of the football and cheer practice happening in the field—the practice you two were supposed to be at—but you drowned out the surrounding sounds to focus on the feeling of his soft and wet lips colliding against yours. His dusty brown hair was slightly tousled at the back with how your fingers trailed between the stands, humming into the kiss as you felt his tongue swipe over yours, and making the tension between you two crackle like a current of sparking electricity.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, as that heart-throbbing sound was felt in your head, your skin hot as your hands trembled on his chest and felt the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your hands. His hands started to cradle your face, rough and desperate, with a touch of gentleness as his thumbs brushed against the softness of your cheeks.

The kiss started as slow, tentative, and tender, with both of you savouring the moment; but the more you started to taste one another, and you felt the cold beam on your back with his knee pushing to split your legs open, the kisses got hoter with more desperation and hunger interlaced with every interlock.

But then, your mind snapped back, with a flicker of panic slipping through your haze of desire when you heard the sharp reality pull back of the whistle going right through you; both of you pulling back and leaving a thin trail of salvia to connect you in the distance as you looked back momentarily to the field.

“Jean…” your voice was barely a whisper, as you trembled with the weight that you two could be caught. “What if someone sees us… I’ve already heard multiple people ask us where we are, what if they come closer to us?”

Your heart fluttered widely at the thought. You could just picture it now; someone from his or your team looking around, maybe one of your close mutual friends, or someone you weren’t too close to, and seeing you two with widened eyes—running back to spread rumours and get you two in trouble. You shouldn’t be like this, you could make out with your boyfriend after practice, but—even if you didn’t want to admit it—it was thrilling to be like this.

Jean’s breath hitched, his hand still placed on the small of your back, pulling you in closer so that you were back to barely any space between you. The cool air is completely forgotten as the heat floods within both of your bodies from your connection, feeling that sharp edge of desire the more you stare into those brown eyes clouded by desire and arousal.

“Let them see,” he murmurs with that husky and low voice, filled with recklessness that made your knees buckle at his boldness. He leaned further in to whisper into the shell of your ear, making you feel his hot breath against your skin. “I want you so much,” he whispered, “I don’t care if we have an audience… They’ll get to see how much I love your touch.”

His words sent a spiking jolt within you, a splash of warmth tangling between your legs as you felt the tip of his nose graze against the curve of your neck; that boldness in him and that edge of something dangerous was so thrilling, and making you want mutual release in no time. The thought of being caught—with anybody seeing you—was terrifying. But somehow, there was a tinge of something burning within you when you heard him say he wanted people to see how much he loved your touch, his devotion and want to make you press harder into him.

With a smirk he leaned in again, his lips moving against yours, and it was so easy to get lost in him; the way his hands gripped onto your waist, and slid up your jumper to grab onto the mounds on your chest, making your kisses more intense, urgent, and a tension that was just growing between you as the air thickened the more you panted in each other’s mouths.

“Mm, you’re so sexy,” he complimented between his longing and lingering kisses as his hand squeezed harder around your breast, the plush of your skin underneath your lace bra pushing out between the gaps of his fingers as his thumb started to circulate your pebble nipple; feeling that smug smirk play on his face when he felt you shudder.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a voice telling you to stop, reminding you to be the logical girl who shouldn’t miss practice and that you could see Jean whenever in your dorm room; but the primal urge was overshadowing every bit of self-respect and logic you had, drowning and pounding that voice down and making your heart skip a beat the more Jean’s lips sent sparks through your pumping veins—it felt electric to be against him like this.

“What was that about wanting to stop?” he said through a deep and soft chuckle as he pinched your sensitive bud through the lace material.

“S-shut up,” you managed to get the words out as you reconnected and felt his tongue dominate yours as it swirled along into a soggy connection of intimacy.

You softly hummed into the kiss as you felt his knee rub against your core.

“Oh, you like that?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed in response as you felt his knee grind against your clothed pussy, biting your lip as you wanted him to be moaning out for you, not have you like a melting puddle, like he seemed to always have you in.

“Oh, I think someone’s having a thought,” he smirked, “what’s going on through that pretty little head of yours.”

You hesitated for a moment before you started to meld your warm lips with his neck, leaving a wet stripe as you licked his adam apple, making his breath hitch in pattern as you started to get a bit bolder in your actions.

“Keep going,” he muttered in a whisper as his chest was quickly rising up and down and letting out puffed-out fogged pants into the autumn air, watching you descent further down until your knees were against the iced grass and looking up at him with those pretty eyes; nestling your face into his fingers as they trailed on your jaw to momentarily admire you.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees like that.”

He caressed the sides of your head as he kept his fingers tangled and twirled into your hair, his heart thumping louder in its ribbed chamber when he watched you wrap your fingers around his waistband and pull down his sweatpants and boxers; a crimson shade appearing on his cheeks as he knew exactly where this was going. He watched as your pupils dilated—watching you with arousal—as you lowered the cloth down to his mid-thigh and watched as his hard cock sprang out in front of you, watching it twitch as you got closer and left a soft peppering of kisses from the base and to the tip.

“F-fuck, oh my god,” he shuddered out.

You made his head slowly fall back as you left swirls from your tongue on the tip of his cock, tasting the salty and creamy precum that was staining on your tastebuds as you looked up at his adam apple bobbing up and down in his broken pants; seeing him at your mercy was a lovely change for once. You continued with your kitten licks on his dribbling tip, before lifting your sweater and pushing yourself upright; making his gaze fall back on you when he felt the underwire of your bra and the warm plush of your breasts surround his large shaft.

“Ah~” he gasped out, “keep going, that feels so fucking good.”

You smirked as you looked up at him, giving him a few strokes between your breasts, squishing your hands from the sides and pushing them to surround him as he thrusted his veined length between your ample cleavage.

“You’re so sexy like that,” he uttered as he stroked the top of your head before grabbing fistfuls of your hair; bucking his hips to fuck your tits further. “Oh, keep going.” He continued to plead as he felt you leave kitten licks on his cock, making him muffle out praises and groans.

You could feel the pooling of your slick collect in your lace panties, but this time it wasn’t about you, it was about making him feel good as you watched his hands itch and grab at your hair as he bucked and rutted his hips into your plump and soft tits.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He sobbed out after continuous thrusts, shooting his thick and white load on your tits, some of it dripping from your soft bottom lip.

taglist: @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy @localkiss -> check my taglist in pinned post to be added, if you want to be deleted from it just message me

a/n: I’m sorry this was a day late; I usually come back home after class and proof read and post but last night I had the worst headache and fever and just needed to have a shower and go straight to bed. Later tonight the next post is coming out so it will be back on track. Sorry to disappoint anyone I get very sick this time of year.

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 9: Transformation

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7k Summary: Bound to the fallen angel, he sweeps you away for one more ritual on this full moon.

Content Warnings: skin marking/branding by cutting/use of dagger; explicit smut: oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse; supernatural binding; human transformation to supernatural being; terato/monster fucking

Notes: FINAL CHAPTER! Lots of smut and lots of information! Given the length, I could have split this chapter in two, and there was a spot I could have broken it off at, but this really felt more cohesive to me and I wanted to give it to you as one final installment of this long and winding tale. Additional Notes: To anyone who has not read from the beginning, I have determined that one could reasonably start with Part 7: Offering and read only the final third of the saga. Think Doctor Who when there's a new Doctor and/or companion and it's built to be a sufficient entry point for anyone new to the story. You'll miss copious backstory, but should be able to drop in and follow without any real problem.

Previous: Binding | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James' powerful wings beat steadily as he carries you through the night sky. The cool night air rushes past, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against yours. You cling to him tightly, your mind reeling from everything that has transpired, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and lingering pleasure.

As you soar higher, the clearing and the assembled crowd fade into the distance below. The full moon bathes everything in its ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the landscape. You've never seen the world from this vantage point before, and it takes your breath away.

"Where are we going?" you manage to ask, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

James looks down at you, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "To a place where we can complete your transformation in private," he replies. "What comes next is sacred, meant only for us."

You nod, nestling closer to his chest.

After what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, James begins to descend, and you turn your head to see the towering walls of the estate. With a graceful landing, he alights on a terrace teeming with ivy, jasmine, and more of the Luna’s Tears. As he steps through a set of grand French doors, you’re enveloped in the soft and warm lighting of a luxurious room. From plush rugs to the rich velvet curtains billowing in the gentle breeze from outside to the mahogany furnishings, it’s designed for comfort. But another word comes to mind as well as he gently sets you down and you look around - sanctuary. This is his sanctuary, a place where he can escape the chaos of the world and find peace in its lavish surroundings.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pulling you into his arms so you’re standing face to face. His eyes are earnestly studying your expression, and his arms circle around your lower back. Your hands come to rest instinctively on his chest.

You take a moment to assess yourself, still marveling at the changes you feel coursing through your body. "I feel different," you say softly. "More alive than I've ever been." Your skin tingles where it touches his, as if an electric current is passing between you. "But also... incomplete? Like there's something more waiting to happen."

James nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "That's to be expected. The binding ritual in the clearing was just the beginning of your transformation. There's still more you could become, and I think the essence of Luna’s Tears in your blood is calling for it."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. The simple touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the embers of desire that still smolder in your core.

“What do you feel through this?” you ask tentatively. “Anything?”

James' eyes darken as he gazes at you intently. "I feel everything," he says, his voice low and husky. "Your essence, intertwining with mine. The potential for what you could become. The hunger in your body, calling out to be fulfilled."

His hand slides from your cheek down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. "But more than that, I feel a connection to you that goes beyond the physical. A bond that transcends mere mortal understanding."

You shiver at his touch and his words, feeling that same connection humming between you. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

James leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Now, we complete your transformation. If you're willing."

You nod without hesitation, surprising yourself with how eager you are to continue this journey.

“Come with me,” he says, and takes your hand.

He leads you into the bathroom, as spacious and exquisite as his chambers. The moonlight streams in through a large skylight, casting an otherworldly glow on the tiled floor. He turns on the faucet, and water gushes out, filling a deep clawfoot tub with steamy warmth. You raise an eyebrow, and he explains, “Bathing in the light of the full moon is one of the elements for the transformation ritual.”

He reaches for a simple glass bottle, removes a cork from its seal, and begins to pour the liquid into the bath. You’re met with a strong and fresh scent of a smell that’s growing not only familiar but recognizable to you - Luna’s Tears. It’s been faintly surrounding you due to the flower crown that’s still on your head, but the essence being added to the bath is more potent.

A small wave of nerves threatens to wash over you. “Do I have to be unconscious for the next part? Won’t the essence of Luna’s Tears put me to sleep?”

James' eyes soften as he hears the concern in your voice. He reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "No, my dear," he says softly, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "You won't be put to sleep by this."

He guides you closer to the tub, the steam rising from the water carrying the intoxicating scent of Luna's Tears. "What you experienced earlier - the deep sleep - was caused by a different concoction. A blend of herbs and other elements designed to prepare your body and mind for the initial stages of the ritual."

James' wings rustle softly behind him. He reaches out and gently removes the flower crown from your head as he continues, "For you, the essence of Luna's Tears will now provide strength and healing. It will fortify your body and spirit for the transformation." He places the crown on a nearby shelf, then takes your hand to help you step into the tub.

The warm water envelops you as you sink into the tub, and you feel the essence of Luna's Tears immediately seeping into your skin. It's invigorating, awakening every nerve ending in your body.

James kneels beside the tub, folding his wings neatly behind him. His eyes never leave you as he begins to gently wash your body with a soft cloth. His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he cleanses away the remnants of the earlier ritual, blood and earth and sweat.

You shiver despite the warmth of the water, both from his touch and the implications of what he’s said.

As his hand moves with the cloth over every part of your body, it’s an intimate study for him, memorizing you inch by inch. You still feel somewhat exposed, but also treasured, and still slightly overwhelmed by all of this. But as his hands move over you, with no way to hide the soft, round parts of your body that you typically dread, he shows nothing but unabashed wonder and appreciation. It’s something you’ve rarely felt with any previous partner.

Seeking distraction from thinking only of his touch and what it means, you decide to test the waters of what he will tell you. “How exactly do you see this working? You’ve bound me to you through ritual and through contract, but am I to you?”

James pauses his ministrations, his hand stilling on your shoulder. His eyes meet yours, intense and searching. "You are my elim," he says, his voice low and reverent. "It's a sacred bond, one that goes beyond mere mortal understanding."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "Your essence is intertwined with mine, your very being attuned to me in ways that transcend the physical realm."

James' hand moves lower, skimming over your collarbone and down to your breast. You inhale sharply at the contact, feeling a spark of desire ignite within you. "In the most basic sense, it means you are mine. But it's so much more than simple possession."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You are my chosen one, selected to stand by my side. You will be my partner, my confidante, my source of strength and renewal."

James' hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "In time, as your transformation completes, you will gain abilities beyond those of mortals. Longevity to match my own lifespan, enhanced strength and healing, a deeper connection to the natural world."

His eyes search yours, gauging your reaction. "In addition to that, you will be integral to my mission.”

Your mind reels at the implications of James' words. Enhanced abilities, longevity, a deeper connection to nature - it all sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. And yet, after everything you've witnessed tonight, you find yourself believing him.

"Your mission?" you ask, curiosity piqued. "What exactly is it that you're trying to accomplish?"

James' hand continues its gentle ministrations, moving down your arm as he speaks. “That,” he says, “is a discussion for another time.”

You make an impatient sound and bat his hand away. “I’m tired of information being withheld from me! I want answers, and I deserve them!”

He reaches out and firmly takes your hand. “I will tell you everything, I swear it on our bond, but not now. There is more to the transformation ritual, and I want your mind and body to be completely rested and refreshed, and there are charts and maps and books I will want to show you in the archives.”

“Oh,” is your simple reply.

“Soon, just not now.”

“Okay,” you agree. You believe he’s being sincere. You feel it, actually, and not just in the metaphorical sense, you realize you feel some kind of resonance between the two of you.

He resumes washing you.

Your eyes roam over him. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body sculpted as if by the gods, and you’d almost believe it, given that he’s an angel. He’s still naked as well, but now that you have time and feel comfortable enough to simply look at him, you notice he’s wearing a gold pinky ring and a pendant on a chain around his neck.

“What’s that symbol on the pendant around your neck?”

“It’s for protection,” he answers simply.

You cock your head. “Protection? But you’re an angel.”

“That’s part of the soon-not-now story you will eventually learn.”

You sigh, and he laughs softly. “Your keen mind will not be wasted, elim. Your desire to know is something I look forward to in a partner.”

Your chest swells a little at this admission. But it spurs another thought - one you think he should be able to answer.

“With all of the ritual, the destiny,” you start, “why bother with an employment contract? Why go through the ruse of it all?”

He chuckles. “It’s not a ruse. Everyone has a place and a purpose here, and if you’re going to work, you should be compensated. Nat was insistent that whether or not I bound myself to you, I needed some kind of assistant working with me on my projects.”

You almost laugh, but his face tells you he’s serious.

“Wait, so the foundation is… it’s real?”

He tilts his head, scrutinizing you. “You saw it all today. You met with so many of my people. Did you think it was all an act?”

“I,” you start, then stop. “I guess not, it’s just a lot to take in. I suppose now that I know what and who you truly are, I’ll be able to have a lot more of the questions answered today that I got denied full transparency on?”

He nods. “I imagine so.”

“Hmm,” you hum. After another moment, you ask, “What do I call you? You’re an angel, but bound to me, and also my boss?”

He chuckles. “Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

“Supernatural beings are either assigned or choose a sacred name for their transformed state, but only certain designations are allowed to use the name,” he explains. “An elim can use the name.”

“And Bucky?”

“It’s what most people called me when I was still human. I wanted a moniker to remind me of my humanity - who I wanted to serve and protect.”

Bucky's revelation that he’d once been human sparks a flurry of questions in your mind, but before you can voice any of them, he places a finger gently on your lips.

"I know you have many more questions," he says softly. "And I promise, we will have time for all of them. But for now, we need to focus on completing your transformation."

You nod, realizing he's right. There's still an unfamiliar energy thrumming through your body, an anticipation for something more.

The water around you has cooled slightly, and you notice the moon's position has shifted in the skylight above. Bucky helps you stand and step out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush towel. As he dries your skin, you notice the way his touch lingers, sending little sparks of pleasure through you. The bond between you pulses with energy, and you find yourself leaning into his caresses.

“Is it always like this for an offering? For elim being selected, the binding, and this transformation? Do they all feel like this?”

He brings his head back to look at you. “Oh, my elim,” he says, voice dropping low, and smoother than any words he’s spoken to you up to this point. “I can not say. I’ve taken many offerings for the moonlight ritual, but I’ve never bound someone to me as elim. I invoked a transformation in Steve and Natasha, but not the transformation I have intended for you.”

He cups your face in both of his hands. “You are the first. The only.”

His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying. You're entering uncharted territory, blazing a trail no one else has walked before. The weight of this revelation settles over you, but instead of feeling burdened, you feel empowered.

"The next ritual will be more intense than the binding," he explains, his voice low and intimate. "It will require complete trust in me.”

Bucky's hands slide down from your face, tracing the curves of your body. His touch reignites a fire within you, desire coursing through your veins. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Bucky leads you back out onto the terrace fully bathed in the moonlight. On a table near the edge of the terrace, there’s a wooden chest and a clear pitcher of water - though you would guess it’s more than mere water. He opens a the case as you reach it. It’s velvet inside, and there’s an empty spot, but you instantly know what’s missing, because next to it is a dagger that looks exactly like the one that he’d used in the clearing to initiate the blood bond. They’re clearly a pair.

Bucky takes the dagger from the case, its silver blade gleaming in the moonlight. He turns to you, his eyes intense and filled with an otherworldly light, and his wings unfurl behind him. "This is the first part of what will complete your transformation from elim in name to elim in being."

You nod, unable to form words as anticipation builds within you.

He guides you to the edge of the balcony. “Place your hands here,” he says, motioning to the stone parapet. “You’ll need to brace yourself.”

You feel the coolness of the smooth stone beneath your palms as you look out over the grounds. You must be on the fourth level of the mansion, standing naked in the moonlight. Bucky moves in behind you, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating from his equally naked body.

“I’m going to carve a sigil into your body,” he murmurs next to your ear. Your body tenses up, and he runs his hand down your back. “It will be painful, but should be less so given the transition your body is already making, the essence of Luna’s Tears in your system, as well as the oils from the bath, and the sustaining energy you’ll pull from the full moon.”

“Bucky…” your voice is hesitant.

Bucky's hand traces back up your spine, coming to rest on your left shoulder blade. "The sigil will be here," he says softly. "It will mark you as mine, and as a being transformed. The placement of a sigil is instrumental in the transfiguration, and an elim receives their mark here because it’s so close to the heart."

Bucky presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. "Are you ready?" he asks softly.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Yes," you whisper.

You feel the weight of his hand come to rest again on your lower back, warm and reassuring. "Remember, I'm here with you. Our bond will help you through this."

You nod, closing your eyes and focusing on the connection between you. You can feel it thrumming with energy, and you try to ground yourself in it.

You feel the cool touch of the blade against your skin, and then a sharp, burning pain as Bucky begins to carve the sigil. You grit your teeth, your fingers gripping the stone parapet tightly. The pain is intense, but not unbearable. As Bucky promised, there's an underlying current of energy flowing through you, dulling the worst of it.

As he works, Bucky murmurs words in a language you don't understand. The air around you seems to thicken, charged with an otherworldly power. You can feel the bond between you pulsing, growing stronger with each stroke of the blade.

As Bucky continues carving the sigil, you feel a strange tingling sensation spreading from the point of the blade. It's as if tendrils of energy are snaking through your body, igniting every nerve ending. The pain is still there, but it's overshadowed by a growing sense of power and connection.

You gasp as a particularly intricate part of the sigil is carved, your body arching involuntarily. Bucky's free hand moves to your hip, steadying you. "Almost done," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

With a final, decisive stroke, Bucky completes the sigil, then places his palm flat against the marking and murmurs a few more words. The moment he's finished, a surge of energy courses through you, so intense it nearly brings you to your knees. Bucky's strong arms wrap around you, holding you upright as wave after wave of sensation washes over you.

You're dimly aware of what’s going on as he sweeps you into his arms. He carries you back into the bedroom and places you softly on the large four-poster bed. The sheets are soft and cool against your skin as you lie down. Bucky stands next to the bed, his wings unfurling to their full span, but he rustles them in clear agitation.

"The ritual of the sigil is complete," Bucky explains, “and now your body will undergo transfiguration over the next few hours.”

There’s a sudden spasm that shoots down your right side, and you wince.

He puts a hand on your torso, and it radiates out a calming energy that allows you to breathe easy again. You put your hand over his, holding it there.

"You’ve seen that I have some power, but the strongest energy - to generate, to transfer, and to consume - is sexual energy.”

A strained laugh erupts from your lips. “Of course it is.”

Despite the lingering pain from the sigil, you feel a surge of arousal at his words. The bond between you pulses with anticipation.

"Are you willing?" Bucky asks softly, his hand still resting on your torso.

You nod, unable to form words as another wave of sensation washes over you. Bucky leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The moment your lips meet, energy courses between you, amplifying every touch, every sensation.

Bucky's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. Your own hands explore the planes of his muscular chest and back, marveling at the softness of his skin contrasted with the hardness of his body. When your fingers brush the base of his wings, he lets out a low groan that sends shivers down your spine.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through you, amplified by the bond between you. You can feel his desire, his need, as if it were your own.

Bucky's hand slides down your body, coming to rest between your plush thighs. You gasp as he strokes you, your hips bucking involuntarily. "So wet for me," he murmurs against your skin.

You whine and spread your legs.

“It’s good that you’re so eager now, my elim, because I’ve wanted to taste your nectar from the source since the instant I smelled you in the clearing tonight.”

Bucky's words send a shiver of anticipation through you. He moves down your body, trailing kisses along your skin. When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them wider, settling his broad shoulders between them.

"Bucky, please," you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair.

His breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you squirm. "Be good for me," he murmurs, placing a hand on your hip to steady you.

The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. Bucky holds your hips down as he continues his ministrations, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue.

The mounting pleasure distracts from the pain, but you’re feeling other sensations throughout your body that you can’t ignore. At one point you’re aware of your bones, heating up, then resonating for a moment, and then those sensations subside. Most of the other changes in your body, though, fall into the background against the canvas of what Bucky’s doing to your sex with his mouth.

Bucky's skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, building your pleasure higher and higher. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation. You can feel his desire, his hunger for you, as if it were your own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips buck against his face. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy as your body continues its transformation.

"Bucky," you gasp, feeling yourself teetering on the edge. "I'm close!"

He redoubles his efforts, sucking your sensitive bud between his lips as he slides two fingers inside you. The dual stimulation is your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

As you come down from your high, you feel the air literally moving through your lungs, hyperaware of every sensation in your body.

But Bucky is only idle for a moment. He pushes up to kneel above you, tracing his fingers down your thighs, causing you to shiver with pleasure. Then he grips your hips and flips you over and maneuvers you onto your hands and knees.

Bucky's strong hands grip your hips as he positions himself behind you. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable in the air between you. The bond pulses with anticipation, your bodies already in tune with each other's needs.

"Are you ready for me, my elim?" Bucky's voice is low and husky, sending goosebumps over your skin.

You nod, words failing you as another wave of sensation washes through your body. The transformation is still ongoing, every nerve ending hypersensitive.

Bucky slowly pushes into you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. You gasp at the intensity of it, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He pauses once he's fully seated, giving you time to adjust.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss between your shoulder blades, then right over your sigil. There’s a pulse of energy that radiates through it, and you feel like it’s healing.

Bucky begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you gasping with each thrust. The pleasure is intense, amplified by the bond between you and the ongoing changes in your body. You can feel every inch of him as he slides in and out, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves and sending shivers of delight through you. When he reaches around to cup your breasts, you arch into his touch, craving more.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me, my elim. Let me feel your pleasure."

His words spur you on, and you begin to move your hips back to meet his thrusts. The new angle has him hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You cry out, your fingers clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure and pain begin to mount higher.

As your climax approaches, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your body. It's different from before - wilder, more primal. Your spine tingles with an otherworldly power, and for a moment, it’s like you can’t breathe.

"Bucky," you gasp, your voice strained. "Something's happening..."

"Let it happen," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Don't fight it."

He repositions himself behind you, planting one foot on the bed to give him more leverage to thrust into your cunt. He forces your chest down, pushing your face into the soft sheets, hand planted between your shoulder blades, and he redoubles his efforts, slamming his thick cock into your weeping pussy. You moan and keen, and it mixes with his own groans and grunts of desperate pleasure.

the bond between you heightening everything, you climax at the same time, accompanied by another blinding burst of light as happened before on the altar. But in the next moment, there’s a searing pain that rips through your ecstasy. Your back feels like it’s exploding, and there’s a cacophony of sounds - ripping, ruffling, rustling, and your own anguished scream.

The pain is overwhelming, and you feel like your body is being ripped apart from the inside out. You crawl away from Bucky, desperately trying to escape the searing agony.

But as you move, you realize that something is off. Your body feels foreign, and when you reach back to touch your back, you feel something there that shouldn't be - a pair of wings.

As you turn to face Bucky, he holds a cautious stance, but his face is full of wonder and awe. You, on the other hand, can only stare at him in mute horror as you try to understand what has just happened.

You were so focused on fulfilling the bonding ritual that you didn't consider the consequences. And now it seems as though those consequences have caught up with you.

Tears stream down your face as panic sets in. You don't know what to do or how to control this new form that has taken over your body. You never thought the transformation would lead all the way to this - to your own set of wings.

Bucky speaks your name softly, moving slowly toward you.

You’re trembling, and your chest heaves with sobs. You didn’t even realize your tears had turned to crying.

Bucky approaches you cautiously, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "It's alright," he says softly, his voice soothing. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're safe. I'm here with you."

You try to speak, but only a choked sob comes out. Your new wings flutter involuntarily, causing you to flinch.

"Breathe," Bucky instructs gently. "Focus on my voice. In and out, slowly."

You follow his guidance, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. As your panic subsides, you become more aware of the wings on your back. They feel strange, yet somehow natural, as if they've always been a part of you.

"That's it," Bucky encourages. "You're doing wonderfully." He moves closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "May I?"

You nod.

Bucky's touch is gentle as he runs his hand down your arm, grounding you. The sensation helps calm your racing heart.

"Your wings are beautiful," he says softly.

You take a shaky breath, trying to process his words. "I... I didn't expect this," you manage to say.

Bucky nods understandingly. "I know. The full extent of an elim's transformation isn't always predictable. But this... this is extraordinary."

Slowly, carefully, he guides you to turn around so he can examine your wings. You feel his fingers gently tracing along the new appendages, sending shivers down your spine.

You take another shaky breath. "What... what am I now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky turns you back around and cups your face in his hands, his eyes meeting yours. "You're still you," he says firmly. "But now you're also something more. You're an elim, my elim, one of the pantheon of angelic creatures."

His thumbs wipe away your tears as he continues, "Your wings are a physical manifestation of the power you now possess. They're a gift, not a curse."

You nod slowly, trying to process his words. The initial shock is less overwhelming, but not gone. “And I’ll have these wings forever?” you ask, thinking suddenly of how you never saw this man before the midnight ritual, which makes sense as there’s no way to hide his large wings. Your heart constricts thinking of all the people you will never see again.

"Yes, but you’ll be able to retract and conceal them most of the time.”

“I-” your voice breaks, “I will?”

“Yes,” he says emphatically, and you know he must feel your enormous worry through the bond, “it’s only the day before and the day after a full moon when an angel can not conceal their true nature.”

Relief washes over you, and you sink forward against his chest, and his arms wrap around your lower back beneath your wings.

“I suppose that’s not the worst,” you say, already starting to see how you could build your life around that. Work will certainly never be a problem, as you won’t have to explain to your boss since he’s the one who triggered your transformation. You imagine it won’t be strange for you to go about as normal here on the estate, either. “I’ll just have to stay out of the public eye for two days a month.”

Bucky chuckles. “‘Not the worst?’ Oh, my elim, you won’t want to be anywhere but here those two days. I’m certain we’ll always have good sex,” he says, trailing moving one of his hands up your spine, and causing you to shiver, “but the unbelievable heights of sensation we’ve felt tonight? That intensity will only accompany the full moon.”

Your eyes widen at Bucky's words, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. The memory of the intense pleasure you just experienced is still fresh in your mind, and the thought of experiencing it again and again, amplified by the full moon, is both thrilling and slightly overwhelming.

"So, this happens every month?" you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and awe.

Bucky nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "The full moon amplifies our powers and our connection. It's a sacred time for our kind."

You take a deep breath, trying to process all this new information. Your wings flutter slightly behind you, and you realize you can feel the air moving through them, a strange but not unpleasant sensation.

"How do I... how do I control them?" you ask, gesturing vaguely behind you.

Bucky's smile widens. “It will come. You’ll develop mastery over your wings as you have the rest of your body. It will take concentration at first, and then it will be like breathing.”

Bucky guides you to stand up, his hands steadying you as you wobble slightly, still adjusting to your new center of gravity.

Bucky leads you over to stand in front of a full-length mirror. For the first time, you see your transformed self - your body still familiar, but now adorned with a pair of magnificent wings. They're smaller than Bucky's, but no less beautiful, with feathers that shimmer in shades of pearl and pale gold. You note that the coloring is not that different from Bucky’s lighter wing.

"Let's start with something simple," he says. "Try to stretch them out fully."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the new appendages. At first, nothing happens, and you feel a flicker of frustration. But then, slowly, you feel the muscles in your back engage, and your wings begin to unfurl.

The sensation is strange but exhilarating. As your wings extend to their full span, you gasp in awe. They're larger than you expected, easily reaching several feet on either side of you.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmurs, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. "Now, try to fold them back in."

This proves to be a bit more challenging, but with Bucky's gentle guidance and encouragement, you manage to tuck them nicely behind you - though not as tightly as you remember Bucky had initially in the clearing. You furl them back out a little, in what feels like a more natural position - at least for now.

"That's it," Bucky says, pride evident in his voice. "You're a natural."

You stare at your reflection, mesmerized by the sight. It's far too surreal, yet somehow feels right. Bucky steps closer and strokes along the bone of your wing from base to tip, and you fight between a whimper and a sigh escaping your lips, the feeling exquisite as he touches your wing.

"Sensitive, aren't they?" Bucky says with a knowing smile. "Wings are one of the most erogenous zones for our kind."

You nod, unable to form words as he continues to stroke your wing. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, pleasure radiating from the point of contact throughout your entire body.

Bucky's hand moves to the juncture where your wing meets your back, massaging gently. You lean into his touch, an unrestrained moan escaping your lips. The bond between you pulses with renewed energy, and you can feel Bucky's desire rising to match your own.

"There's so much more for you to learn," Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "About your new body, your new abilities, the world you're now a part of.

Bucky's hands move to your shoulders, turning you to face him. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you. “So many new sensations to explore."

His wings unfurl behind him, and you're struck again by their beauty and power. He takes your hand and guides it to the base of his wing. "Touch me," he encourages.

Hesitantly, you run your fingers along the strong bone structure of his wing, marveling at the softness of the feathers. Bucky's eyes flutter closed, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you grow bolder, stroking and exploring the expanse of his wing.

As you caress him, you feel an echo of the pleasure through your bond. It's as if you can sense what he's feeling, amplifying your own arousal. Your other hand moves to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there.

Bucky's hands aren't idle either. They roam your body, learning your curves and newly sensitive areas. When he reaches the base of your wings, mirroring your actions on his own, you gasp at the intensity of the sensation. It's pleasure unlike anything you've ever experienced before, radiating from your wings throughout your entire body.

His wings twitch and flutter under your ministrations, and you can feel his arousal building through your bond - and pressing against your stomach.

Suddenly, Bucky's eyes snap open, dark with need. In one fluid motion, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he carries you back to the bed. He tosses you into the middle of the mattress, joining you immediately. He lays back and pulls you on top of him.

“Ride me, elim,” he says, his eyes hungry for you.

You straddle Bucky's hips, your new wings fluttering slightly as you position yourself above him. The bond between you pulses with anticipation and desire. As you slowly lower yourself onto his hard length, you both groan in unison at the exquisite sensation.

Bucky's hands grip your wide hips, guiding your movements as you begin to rock against him. The angle allows him to hit deep inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your wings seem to have a mind of their own, stretching and folding with each roll of your hips.

"That's it," Bucky encourages, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel everything."

You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you increase your pace. The new position causes your wings to spread wide, and you feel a rush of cool air against the sensitive feathers. The sensation sends shots of pleasure straight to your core.

Bucky’s hands move from your hips up your back questing for your wings again.

As Bucky's fingers caress the sensitive juncture where the feathers meet your back, you cry out in ecstasy. The dual stimulation of his touch on your wings and his cock deep inside you is overwhelming. Your movements become more frantic as you chase your pleasure.

Bucky's own wings unfurl beneath him, the feathers rustling against the sheets. The sight of him, powerful and angelic beneath you, only fuels your desire further.

"You're so beautiful like this," Bucky murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. "My perfect elim."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your climax building rapidly. Your wings flutter and stretch with each roll of your hips, seeming to respond to your mounting pleasure.

Bucky's wings curl forward to touch your wings, and a jolt of intense pleasure courses through you. You cry out, your movements faltering for a moment as you adjust to the new sensation. Bucky uses the opportunity to thrust up into you, setting a faster pace.

You can only moan, words escaping you as waves of pleasure wash over you. As you ride him, you become aware of a building energy between you. It's similar to what you felt during the ritual, but more intense, more focused.

The energy between you and Bucky builds to a crescendo, pulsing in time with your movements. Your wings are fully extended now, quivering with each thrust. One of Bucky's hands moves to cup your face, his eyes locked on yours.

"Let go," Bucky commands, his voice rough with need. "Come for me, my elim."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust, send you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, more intense than anything you've ever experienced. Your wings beat powerfully, sending gusts of air through the room as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

Bucky follows you moments later, his own wings unfurling fully as he reaches his climax. You feel his seed filling you up, and it fills you with an added element of satisfaction.

You collapse against his chest, and his arms draw around you tightly. You rest your forehead against his, and then he kisses you. Slow but passionate - not with a drive for more sex, but more of an earnest need to connect with you on a deeper level.

As your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of a warmth spreading through your body. It's different from the heat of arousal - this feels more like a gentle, comforting glow emanating from within. Your wings, now relaxed, drape over you both like a feathered blanket.

Bucky's hand strokes gently along your spine, his touch soothing and grounding. "How do you feel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You take a moment to assess yourself. The initial shock and fear of your transformation have faded, replaced by a sense of wonder and, surprisingly, contentment.

"Different," you reply honestly. "But... good different. Like I've finally become who I was always meant to be.”

Bucky smiles, his eyes shining with pride and affection. "That's exactly it," he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We’ve awakened your true nature, what was buried beneath the surface."

You shift slightly, marveling at how natural your wings already feel. "There's still so much I don't understand," you admit. "So much to learn."

"And we have all the time in the world for that," Bucky assures you. His hand moves to caress your wing, sending a pleasant shiver through you. "I'll be here to guide you every step of the way."

You nod, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for him. The bond between you pulses warmly, a constant reminder of your connection.

"What happens now?" you ask, curious about what this new life holds for you.

Bucky's hand moves back to its soothing motion along your spine. "Now, we rest. Your body has undergone a significant change, and you need time to recover and adjust."

He shifts slightly, adjusting your position so you're lying more comfortably against his chest. Your wings naturally fold around you both, creating a cocoon of soft feathers.

"In the coming days, I'll teach you more about your new abilities," Bucky continues. "How to control your wings, how to harness the energy that now flows through you, and,” he presses his hand meaningfully to the small of your back at the same time he presses a kiss to your forehead, “answer all of your questions.”

“All of them?” you ask.

“All of them,” he promises.

THIRTY-FOUR THOUSAND WORDS TOTAL! Can you believe it?!

If you've come with me this far... I literally can't thank you enough for reading this. It really pushed my creativity as it's an AU area I'd never explored before. I hope it was full of delicious details, tantalizing mysteries, and I know I still didn't answer all of the burning questions... 🤭 Maybe if anyone is really dying to know, then someday we'll learn more?

But THIS is the end of this story at least. A nice, smutty end. 😏

[catnip-plug]

You Got the Green Light (Ticci Toby x Reader) NSFW

Porn without plot, palming, slight MLM, reader is implied to be male, was actually an oc x canon but I changed it to reader, slight homophobic mentions? Established relationship [reader is childhood best friends w/ Toby] (inspired by green light by beyonce haha)

You cornered Toby against the bookshelf, walking calmly and languidly. A sly smile graced your face, and Toby felt his face heat up tremendously. It was like his brain short-circuited. What were you doing? His Adam's apple bobbed with each nervous gulp he took. 

“Really?” You said, your eyes swooping over Toby. 

God, Toby didn’t know where to look. His fingers twitched, and his wide gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. Even though he was taller, he felt so small. 

“Y-yeah,” breathed Toby, feeling his heartbeat quicken. His voice sounded so stupidly meek, he wanted to die. You raised an eyebrow in questioning. 

“You got the green light.”

———————

"Green," Toby hissed out through the sparks shocking up his spine. So you continued, palming Toby through his jeans. His boner was straining against the fabric; you could feel how hard it was under your hand.

Toby rocked his hips forward desperately, trying to get more friction, but you stayed put with a steady pressure, grinning slyly at the show.

"Green, green... green..." Toby pleaded frustratingly. He wanted more, so much more.

You palmed harder in response. Not enough to satisfy the other, though. He whined and bucked his hips, pushing himself against your hand.

"Hey, you're getting greedy." You clicked your tongue and returned to soft touches and light brushes.

"I'm telling you green," Toby complained. He actually looked upset, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What, are you pouting?" You snickered, eyes narrowed in amusement. The brunet didn't even get a chance to defend himself before you gripped his dick hard through his jeans. Toby cried out in surprise then immediately closed his mouth, embarrassment flushing his cheeks pink. Electric shocks coursed through his body, and when you continued, Toby couldnt help but give in to it.

"I'm not going to pull it out," you said. "It's not gay if I don't touch it." Toby could not give a fuck if it was gay or not. In fact, that was the least of his concerns right now. Why did it matter to you? He pushed up at the same time you pushed down, and he panted as he tried to choke down his moans. Apparently, his lack of response bothered you.

"Right, Toby?" You stared right at him, palming him faster. A shaky moan slipped out of Toby's throat and he threw his head back.

"No, no, it's not—not gay, it's not," he stammered. God, he just wanted you to do more, to kiss him, to reach your hands into his pants and jerk him off already. "Just—just keep g-going..."

You raised an eyebrow. "What's the word?" You were being an asshole and you knew it.

"Greeeen, green..." Toby groaned. He sounded so pathetic to his own ears. Maybe he should just say green forever and ever, so you could keep doing this until he passed out. That would be paradise.

At this point, Toby could no longer contain the noises that flew from his mouth, desperate, high-pitched moans that permeated the air. Tons of pre-cum leaked from his dick, and a dark stain had already formed on his jeans, easily noticeable along with the tent in his pants. The boxers he wore probably needed to be changed after this. He panted like a dog, the friction from the rough fabric rubbing deliciously against his shaft. Sometimes, it would rub against his sensitive tip, and he would twitch with a jolt and let out a cry.

"Keep going, ohmygod, -nng- I'm almost th-there—I'm so close," Toby moaned, his hips bucking forward quickly and chasing that climax.

"Still green?" You teased, but Toby was too focused to answer. His dick twitched under the others' hand. Sure, you were a tease, but you were never one to keep your best friend waiting. Your hand motions became faster, almost ruthless.

"Please, please, oh god please, oh my go-d." The brunet's shaky voice raised in pitch at the end of his sentence. His stomach was on fire, that burning heat pooling in his belly, the coil ready to snap—it was too much.

"Oh my god, ah, I'm gonna cum—m' gonna c-cum," he babbled. One last push, and the dam broke. His orgasm swept over him in waves, his head thrown back, his eyes rolled up. Hot cum shot from his cock in semi-opaque ropes, tainting his underwear in a sticky, uncomfortable mess. But really, he didn't care right now. You helped ride out his orgasm, palming him a little more before pulling away, watching the dark spot on the crotch of Toby's jeans spread.

His chest rose up and down as he came down from that high, relishing the remnants of bliss that lingered.

"You should probably get changed." You smirked, meeting Toby's eyes. But he was too exhausted to get up, so he laid his head back down, his ears turning red while he caught his breath.

[ahedalshaer]

✨An emergency🚨📣, please stop for a moment, a story of life and death✨

We all know that winter is coming, and for a year we live in tents. Last winter, we were in our homes in Rafah, but this winter our homes were destroyed, and we have nothing left except a tent made of fabric, which does not protect us from the cold of winter or the heat of summer.

Do you know how difficult it is for a person to remain without shelter for an entire year, without a house, without walls to shelter and cover him? Today I am writing to you and I hope that you will help me and my family under these circumstances. You know that war merchants have raised the price of nylon, shades, and waterproof tents. The price of one tent is approximately $1000, and this is something beyond our capacity, and we do not have the money to buy even one meter of nylon.

So today I am writing to you to help me and my family before the arrival of the winter season to buy a tent to shelter us from the rain and the cold. We want to reach the goal of 10,000€ before the arrival of winter and the bitter cold. Donate even if it is 20€. Every small amount when collected becomes a large amount and we benefit from it and save our lives before it is too late.

‏That summer comes to you and you endure temperatures that reach the point of melting inside a tent made of poor nylon and you cannot stand inside it for more than two minutes? I imagined this, This is what we live and suffer from, but for how long?? No water, no electricity, life is very stressful, it has exhausted us, We don't want a life like this, we want to survive, your help is what will save my life from all this, just please put yourself in my place and if you feel for me just help me By donation, This is my only refuge, you are our only hope in this life

I have no choice but to support you in this difficult time. Dear friends, you can support my family either by donating or sharing my campaign link with others so that the goal is reached sooner, please help us. We are so tired and no one is looking at us. Please help us. If you can't donate, post the account Help us, we need you to spread our story to the world.. Listen to my voice to the whole world .

Verified By:

#butterfly effect project line No. 407

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[wh0re43van]

Maneater- (Jimmy Darling X Reader)

Summary: it’s your first week at the freakshow as a sword swallower and fire eater. Almost everyone has taken an immediate liking to you, especially Jimmy. (Literally only wrote this because I want to deep throat Jimmy)

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda public

Word count: 2.3k

I sit on the edge of the wooden stage in the main tent as I clean my swords. the small amount of afternoon sun leaks in through the openings of the red and white canopy, bringing the blistering Florida heat with it. I absentmindedly wipe the sweat on my brow with the same rag I’m sanitizing the sleek metal with, then immediately break into a fit of coughs as the fumes from the rubbing alcohol choke me out.

‘This heat is melting my brain’ I think to myself as I catch my breath as best I can in the hot sticky air. You’d think as a fire breather I’d be used to it, but this August haze is brutal.

Being from New England originally, this suffocating humidity is a far cry from what I consider comfortable, but a gig is a gig. Elsa was more than pleased to hire me when I pulled up with a unique act and my own caravan last week. I’ve worked with a lot of carnies in my day, but the group here is truly one of a kind. Almost everyone took an immediate liking to me. Ethel did her best to make me my favorite dessert as a welcome gift, Desiree insisted on taking me shopping, and Eve has let me sleep in her caravan with her for the week since mine isn’t yet hooked up to electric or water.

“Not even a dog should have to sleep in this heat without a fan,” Eve insisted. All the women have quickly become my closest friends, except for-

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Maggie’s shrill voice cuts through the thick air with ease as she stomps into the tent.

“What are you on about now?” I roll my eyes as I set my swords to the side, walking down the rickety wooden steps that creak under my weight.

Maggie has given me shit since the first time she saw Jimmy flirting with me, which was about 30 seconds after my arrival. Her and Jimmy seemed to have some sort of relationship which he assured was “purely casual”, but Maggie doesn’t seem to agree.

“You have Jimmy out there in this heat wave crawling around messing with your stupid trailer! He could have a heat stroke,” the ‘psychic’ scolds me. I step up to the mousy bitch, adjusting my bathing suit top and brushing the dust off my denim shorts.

“He volunteered to do that for me, so mind your own fucking business… Ya know, in all the carnivals I’ve worked at, I never met a medium that couldn’t take a fuckin hint,” I say lowly, glaring at her. Her face goes red with anger.

“I don’t see how Elsa could hire such an ill-mannered hussy. You surely aren’t doing any favors for the reputation of the show,” I can tell that she’s trying to remain composed, but her voice comes out a shrill whine.

“This hussy earned over 500 bucks in the first four days I was here,” I remind her, laughing at how stupid her attempt at a come back was. Maggie tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I’m surprised you even charge money for your act since you prance around here with your tits out shoving shit down your throat for free,” she small lady growls, motioning to my bathing suit top for emphasis.

‘Damn’ I’m a bit shocked by this statement and it shows on my face, but I scoff before pulling the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

“Why don’t we ask Jimmy-“ I begin, but I’m cut off by Jimmy himself.

“Ask me what?” he smiles as he takes a gulp of water out of the glass in his hand. The energy in the room immediately shift as both of us turn to look at him, plastering fake smiles on our faces as we adjust our outfits and hair.

“Ask you, uhm, how you always manage to get such a crowd when you work the carousel. It must be all the girls wanting a ride with you,” I let out a nervous giggle, nudging the bitch to my side. She nods and laughs unconvincingly. At least we can agree on how embarrassing it would for Jimmy to hear us bickering over him like schoolgirls. Luckily, he seems none the wiser to the cat fight that he just accidentally broke up.

Jimmy chuckles as he walks up to us, leaning against the base of the stage. I don’t make any effort to hide my lingering scan of his body. His worn-out blue jeans and white tank top that’s clinging to his toned chest with sweat is covered in the orange dust of Florida’s crust. The veins in his arms are prominent on his slick sun kissed skin that’s dotted with smears of what appear to be grease.

“You’d see me blushing if my face wasn’t sunburnt as all hell,” Jimmy flashes his dimples as he runs his conjoined fingers through his sweat drenched curls. “I’m glad you’re here Maggie, Elsa’s lookin’ for ya,” he informs the blonde. She seems to be happy just to get the smallest bit of attention from the boy.

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you come to my caravan in a little bit. I have a surprise for you,” she says to Jimmy, but her eyes are locked on me, unfortunately for her, Jimmy’s eyes are also locked on me.

“Uh sure Doll, go on now. Don’t leave Elsa waitin’,” the boy says, eyeing me up and down with a grin as he motions his head towards the exit. Maggie smirks at me as if this is some kind of feat before walking out of the tent.

“So,” I smile as I boost myself up on the stage, dangling my feet over the side. “What can I do for you?” I bat my lashes at the sweaty boy.

“I need your pretty hands for one last thing and then you should have electricity,” Jimmy hums, then motions to my swords on the stage. “But if you’re trying to rehearse,” he walks over to the first row of collapsible wooden chairs, taking a seat. “I’ll take my payment in the form of a private show” he leans back, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. I smile mischievously, standing up and grabbing the three dull swords.

“Well That’s not fair to you,” I tisk as the metal clanks in my hands in. “I’m not even in costume,” I smirk as I pace to the center of the stage.

“Oh trust me doll, this little number you have on right here compliments you just as well as that corset and stockings you dance around in,” he smirks as his drift from my legs to my face, earning a grin from me.

“Well I’m not gonna argue with that,” I laugh before clearing my throat, starting my monologue.

I tun through the first half of my 15 minute routine, Jimmys attention glued to me the entire time. He watches intently as I easily drop two swords down my esophagus, and twist them around before pulling them out one by one. My epiglottis burns as the metal slides through the small opening. I wipe the spit from my mouth, taking a bow as Jimmys applause bounces off the canvas walls.

“Thank You,” I giggle, my voice comes out a bit hoarse as I kneel down by my torches and lamp oil, then I notice I don’t have water to wet my rag. “Gentleman in the front row, could I borrow that glass of water,” I grin, using my ‘show voice’. He happily hops up, bring the glass to the stage. I crawl over to the edge, then sit up on my knees so that my face is even with his. “Thank you, sir,” I grin, holding Jimmys gaze as I take the cup from his hands, brushing my fingers over his.

“I’m honored to be involved in the act,” he breaths as he reaches out, running a thumb over my lip. I grin before licking a strip up the digit, making his eyes go wide.

“If You really want to be a special guest, come join me back stage,” I hum, leaning forward as I take his other hand in mine, tugging him a bit. Without a moments hesitation Jimmy hoists himself up on the stage and pulls me just behind the curtain before he crashes his lips into mine, pinning me to the wall

“You don’t know the things ya do to me, baby,” Jimmy pants against my lips as his hands grab at my body desperately. I giggle into the rough kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I hum as I reach between us, running my hand over his obvious errciton. Jimmy moans, bucking his hips towards the contact.

“Can ya blame me?” He chuckles lowly before moving his mouth to my neck, leaving wet kisses over my sweaty skin. “It ain’t often that I get attention from a dime like you,” he chuckles lowly against my skin as his large hands grab my ass.

“I guess todays your lucky day then,” I giggle as I turn Jimmy around, pushing his back into the wall. “I just want to thank you for working on my caravan for me,” I purr as I slowly drop down to my knees. His eyes watch intently as I pop open his belt buckle. Jimmy swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth hangs agape.

“It’s my pleasure, honestly doll. You don’t have to do this-” Jimmy protests weakly as he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. His breath hitches when I abruptly yank his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, his heavy cock springing out of its confines.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I smile before licking a strip from base to tip, Jimmy sighs at the contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I bat my lashes at him as he looks down at me, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “Plus id rather practice on you then those other swords anyway,” I smirk before taking him into my mouth.

He throws his head back, a low growl bubbling from his throat in satisfaction. Jimmy looks down at me with a slack jaw as he watches me take all of him in my throat until my nose is flush with the small patch of hair around his base. His hand finds its way to the back of my head as I begin bobbing up and down on him.

“Just like that, Doll… holy shit,” Jimmy hisses as his face contorts in pleasure. I giggle to myself as I wrap my arms around his legs, allowing him thrust into my face.

My knees dig into the unfinished wood of the stage- sure to leave splinters- as Jimmy violates my throat. His chest starts to heave as he finds his rhythm, filling the tent with low moans and my gagging.

I look at Jimmy through blurry, tear stained vision and I swear I could cum right now. His eyes are screwed shut as his mouth hangs open, letting out the unholiest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His strong arms, shiny with sweat, are flexed so hard that I can see veins popping out of them as he holds onto my hair like his life depends on it.

As Jimmy is lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around him, I hear shuffling in the side entrance of the tent. I’m about to pull away when I hear Maggie’s whiny voice.

“Jimmy are you still-“ she asks before she freezes, her face goes pale as her jaw drops. The boy doesn’t doesn’t even realize that he’s cutting her off when he moans,

“Jesus Christ baby, I’ve never seen someone look so pretty while gagging on cock,” his voice is breathy and low, but Maggie definitely heard because seconds later she shrieks before running out of the tent. “What was that?” Jimmy asks, slowing his hips, he looks down at me with glazed eyes, as if he’s in another dimension. I pull Away, gasping for breath as I take his slick cock into my hand, breaking the thick strings of spit.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I giggle, still trying to catch my breath as I slide my hand over his length. “I just want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Can you do that for me?” I hum as I place his tip between my lips, licking lightly. Jimmys eyes flutter as he groans, watching me rub him over my lips.

“Jesus Christ,” is all he manages to groan before he’s thrusting back into my mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax. Jimmy is a cursing, sweaty mess as his cock twitches on my tongue before shooting his sticky release down my throat. I moan at the sensation as he pulls out, falling limp against the wall. “Come here,” he pants out, barely audible as he grabs me up off the floor, pulling me into a wet sloppy kiss. I grin against his lips as hands move to the buttons on my shorts.

“Uh uh,” i tisk as i slap his hands away. He looks at me confused. “This was my payment to you,” I smile as I fix my outfit.

“And Im more than grateful,” he chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “But id like to return the favor, doll,” he smirks as he reaches out to try to pull my into his arm. I step the side before turning to leave.

“Oh you don’t have time Jimmy. I think Maggie’s looking for you,” I smirk before giving him a peck on the cheek. I can feel his gaze burning into my back I was down the rickety steps and out of the tent.

[ornii]

Arcane, Chapter 4: Things have changed, you? No..

The endless darkness had been inviting for so long, but finally there is a chance to return.

Sitting on a floating island upon the endless cosmos, (Y/n) was still alive, years had passed, he had grown. Mastering the crystal that exploded and had infused his body with this unstable power.

Standing at the edge of the island, covered in rags and robes, he extended his metal arm, sigils etched into the rusted metal hummed blue energy and began to shake, evoking what power his body had, the fabric of the world itself began to warp at a disturbing rate. It was trying to tear itself back to the real world, but no avail. The blue light fizzled and he slumped down exhausted, he punched the ground out of more frustration itself, and escape so far away, until the darkness begin to crackle with blue electricity, a large amount of energy was being used, somewhere. It didn’t matter, it was time.

(Y/n) stood up and put his hand in the air, he begins to use said energy, opening his arm up like a lighting rod, as the electricity stuck his arm, his eyes begin to shift to a soaring bright blue, power surged further and further until his arm was shaking, barely containing the energy like a bottle about to burst, with one movement, he then threw his hand forward, the force made a shockwave of energy so intense it made a small but visible tear, into a laboratory. it didn’t matter where, just not here.. (Y/n) leapt into it without hesitation, his body felt the rush of light, pressure and heat, and swiftly landed on the ground of a cool laboratory.

Placing his feet on the cold floor (Y/n) looked around, his eyes dimly lit by the light, he saw two men, stunned by his arrival, it’s obvious he’s still in Piltover. If he’s back, then he only has one goal, find powder and Vi, turning to the large glass window he extended his arm and the energy began to gather once more, with a single snap of his finger, he blasted another shockwave of blue energy hits the glass and shattered it, he leapt out of the window, regardless of how far the fall is, and it was far, as he fell he slammed his hand into the wall and began to slow his descent scarring the tower he slowed down and leapt into the waters, taking him away to hide in piltover.

Gasping for air, he washes up near the sewer pipe leading down to piltover, before he can be swept up he gripped the platform above and pulled himself up next to the pipe, and rested, seeing the blue sky, vibrant colors, finally. Leaning against the pipe, he fell asleep for hours. His eyes open to the smell of smoke, something was burning, his eyes dart upwards to the smoke rising further in Piltover. He rushed to the location, flames consume a tent, blazing. His eyes quickly shifted to the drawing made of the fire into the tent, it was a monkey, just like.. Powders.

“Is… is that?” He stepped closer, deep rooted memories began to replay, fear, anger and frustration all began to flow once more, but the coughing of a woman caught him off guard. He peered in and saw her, on the ground, flames around her. With little hesitation he ran in, he saw a wooden beam had fallen upon her chest, He gripped the beam with his arm and hurled it off and put the woman on his shoulders and ran with her out of the fire. Lying her on the ground he looked her up and down, besides the smoke and slight burns, she’ll be fine. She was dressed as an officer, Footsteps storm near his direction and he can assume the others are here. (Y/n) ran off, leaving the woman to be tended by the officers.

That woman, was Caitlyn, Lady of House Kiramman. The next morning came and She was knelling down. looking at a board of plans, all sticking together to a singular goal -a goal she just hasn’t been able to piece together, twirling a pistol she overlooks them, and hears a shuffling behind her.

“I said leave me, Jayce.” She sounded upset, and when the figure didn’t reply, she quickly turned around and aimed her gun, it was (Y/n), reading the note from the large bouquet of flowers. “To Lady Kiramman.” He said, and turned his hooded face to her.

“Who are you? How did you get it?” She demanded to know, (Y/n) calmly turned to face her, “Your windows, and could you please put you gun down? If I wanted you dead I would have let you die in that tent.” He said, and Cait was caught off guard.

“It was.. you.” She huffed, (Y/n) nodded. “Yes, you were investigating it, I want to help.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Saving your life wasn’t enough?” He replied, and sighed, “The man you’re looking for is part of Silco’s gang. Probably using the explosives someone I know…” he said, and it began to piece together.

“I've suspected there is a single mind

behind the undercity's violence…I think whoever attacked the square

is our suspect.” Cait lowered her gun and showed him the display she had, all plans link together.

“The same symbols showed up at the botched smuggling operation at the Hexgates.”

“The Hexgates?” He had no idea what that was.

“Keep up.” She points to the maps dark end.

“All this time, they've kept their dealings

localized to the undercity. Low priority. The attack on the square changes things. They've overstepped. If I can figure who made the explosives, it could lead me directly to whoever's behind it all. The answer is here, staring me in the face.” Cat droned on, and (Y/n) smugly folds his arms.

“I guess that would be me..” (Y/n) walked over, and knelt down to look at the map. “It’s been a while since I was there, but I can remember a few faces.. especially ones that work with Silco, if what you’re saying is true.. we find the guy, and.. “chat” with him.

(Y/n) made the offer and extended his metal arm. “(Y/n)” he said, Cait reluctantly shook the cool metal hand.

“..Caitlyn, and fine, but you are going dressed like that, and you reek.”

“I haven’t taken a decent shower in years..” he said, Cait folds her arms as well. “Then you’re going to, and get a new assortment of clothes, my father could spare some, you look to fit the size. Cait took his hood off and she got a good look at his face, half of it had a scar along from the eyebrow down to his lip. His eye now glistening like a crystal is behind it. Cait was quickly surprised and stepped back. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“

“Don’t worry about it, where your shower or whatever.” He put his hood back on, Cait lead him to it, without her parents knowing of course.

Now dressed in a more casually style, ankle high boots, thick leather leggings and a button up navy blue shirt and vest combo, he tops it off with a black tie and overcoat, taking a single glove he puts it on his metal arm to avoid suspicion. Cait peers into the room.

“Done? We have to go..” she saw him in the moonlight, the way his eyes shine so beautifully, he nods, “yeah.. let’s go.”

Standing before the warden, (Y/n) kept his hood on and allowed Cait to speak.

“I need to speak with one of the inmates.” She said, the Warden at the desk looked them up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, folks in here aren't usually very talkative…” he said, scribbling on his paper

“This one was hit by friendly fire. He's got reason to talk. Must have been sent in today?” She asked and he thought.

“Oh. Inmate 2135. Yeah, I'm, uh, afraid that's not possible.” He admits, (Y/n)’ jerked his head up to the Warden.

“Why not?” (Y/n) asked, the Warden looks at his papers, and taps on one.

“Uh, well, there's been...an incident.” He said, Cait and (Y/n) glance at each other and then back to him.

“What kind of incident?” Caitlyn asks.

“The...not so pretty kind.”

“You don't understand, we have to talk to him.” Caitlyn attempts to use some form of reason with the warden, whose hands were tied.

“Oh, you'll be able to. As soon as he can move his jaw again.” He replied, and (Y/n) thought, “this guy… he just got to the prison, couldn’t have made any enemies, so who did it must have known…” (Y/n) grasped what his brain was trying to relay.. whoever attacked the man must have known who he already was.. one of Silco’s men.”

“Who assaulted him?” (Y/n) asked. And the Warden could oblige with that.

The Duo entered the cell block and calmly but carefully walked down the hall to the Cell of the assailant. Loud thuds echo down the hall, sounds like someone’s taking their frustrations out on someone, or something. The pounding grew closer and closer, until the final cell door it was beating with force. (Y/n) and Caitlyn reached the cell block, and the pink hair in the dim room said enough to who it is. (Y/n)’s eyes couldn’t believe it and leaned forward his face reaching the cell bars. Vi turned around, and looked at them both.

“…Who the hell are you?”

[rebelliousmuse]

Good Morning - M. S.

Hi everyone, this is my first imagine ever. Hope you like it.

Warning: SMUT, oral (f and m), unprotected p in v.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

His lips, hot and insistent, trailed down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Their touch lingered where they met my skin, leaving a heated brand. Matt’s hand slid down my back, urging me closer, and I melted into him. When he finally pressed against me, the fullness ignited a spark deep within. A gasp escaped my lips as he began his slow, deliberate pounds, his every move echoing a desperate plea building inside me. I clung to him, both surrendering to the pleasure and reveling in the raw power he possessed over me. I started feeling the warmness of an upcoming orgasm as his hand touched my clit, rubbing it. I was so close, so close.

Sunlight speared through a gap in the curtains, igniting a protest behind my eyelids. Groaning, I reached for the familiar comfort of my pillow, but my hand landed on the sheets. Disoriented, I tried to shift position, the movement sending a jolt of pain through my left shoulder. That's right, the dream. A smile played on my lips as I recalled the vivid scene. My entire left side felt stiff and prickly, a consequence of sleeping on it all night. Tentatively, I tried to inch away, but a soft groan erupted from Matt, his grip tightening around my waist. A silent laugh bubbled up in my chest. Typical. Even unconscious, he managed to hold on tight.

A desperate need coursed through me. The dream had been vivid, a rollercoaster of emotions, and now feeling him pressed against me, the warmth of his body, only intensified the craving. I couldn't help myself. Twisting away slightly, I fought against his arm draped across my waist. The sunlight that peeked through the blinds highlighted the mess of his dark hair and the furrow of annoyance between his brows.

'Hey,' I murmured, my voice thick with sleep and unspoken desire.

‘Stop moving, go back to sleep.’ He grumbled with that sleepy voice that makes my stomach flutter, without opening his eyes fully.

‘I can’t… I think…’ The coarse weave of his t-shirt snagged slightly on my fingertips as I placed my left hand on his chest. With a shaky breath, I began to slowly lower my hand. The fabric of his boxers strained against a firm bulge that pushed insistently beneath. A soft gasp escaped his lips as my fingertips brushed the edge, sending a tremor through his body. Biting my lower lip, I skimmed my hand down, the heat radiating through the thin fabric. His eyes fluttered closed, a low groan rumbling in his chest as I gently squeezed. '...I need your help,' I finished in a breathless whisper.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. "Really?" he murmured, his voice husky with suppressed desire. "Now?" His hands, warm and slightly rough, skimmed up my sides, sending shivers down my spine. They lingered for a moment at my waist, then dipped down, brushing against the curve of my hip before following the curve of my ass. My breath hitched as a jolt of electricity shot through me. "It's too early." he breathed; the words laced with a hesitant desire.

‘Mm yeah? How would you know if it’s early, you didn’t check.’ I answer playfully, starting to fasten my pace causing him to moan. Slowly, I trailed my hand up his arm, the goosebumps erupting beneath my touch. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sleepy confusion that melted into a soft smile as our eyes met. With a slow deliberateness, I make him lay on his back and lift myself onto his lap, my breath catching in my throat as our eyes meet. A surge of heat floods my cheeks, but I hold his gaze, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My hand reaches up, fingers brushing the warmth of his cheek. Leaning closer, I savour the taste of him as I kiss him softly on his lips. I nip at the corner of his jaw, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. A dark flush creeps up his neck as I trail kisses down, leaving marks. His breath hitches, and a groan escapes his lips. His eyes flutter shut as I descend, his body arching into mine.

‘I really need you.’ I restate between kisses as I continue my way down.

I trail kisses and playful bites down his stomach, the soft sigh escaping his lips turning into a ragged groan as I near the edge. There, a dark line of coarse hair disappears into the waistband of his worn cotton boxers. The fabric clings to the heat radiating from his skin, emphasizing the toned muscles beneath. My tongue darts out, tracing the path of the hair, sending shivers rippling through him. I can practically feel his desire burning through the thin fabric, mirroring the frantic pounding of my own heart. My fingers brush against the elastic waistband, sending a jolt of anticipation through me. With a slow, deliberate pull, the fabric slides down, revealing the impressive bulge straining beneath. My mouth floods, my tongue already picturing the taste of him. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as the sight fuels a fire within me. My body trembles with a desperate need, a moan caught in my throat as I bite my lip, the pain a welcome distraction from the overwhelming desire to finally have him in my mouth. My tongue traced a lazy path from his root to his tip. His eyes fluttered closed as a low moan rumbled from his chest. My hands, warm against his dick, one placed after the other moving up and down his manhood. As I began a slow, teasing descent, mimicking the rhythm with my mouth, a gasp escaped his lips. His back arched instinctively, pressing himself closer.

My rhythm remained relentless, and with every press and flick of my tongue, a fresh torrent of obscenities ripped from his lips. His breath hitched in ragged gasps, and his body tensed beneath my touch. Matt had a single hand on the bed sheets and the other holding my hair, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control. A thrill shot through me, a potent mix of possessiveness and the intoxicating knowledge that I could easily reduce Matt to a quivering mess.

‘F-fu-ck babe, I-m gonna cum.’ A strangled moan escaped his lips as he fought the rising tide of pleasure. His jaw clenched tight, a vein pulsing in his temple, and his fingers dug into the sheets beside him. I reveled in his struggle, a delicious smirk playing on my lips. With a slow, deliberate flick of my tongue, I pushed him closer to the edge. A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he finally surrendered, his body shuddering with release. The sound was intoxicating, a primal roar of pleasure that washed over me in waves. In that moment, I felt an undeniable power course through me, the satisfaction of having brought this strong man to his knees with nothing but the touch of my mouth.

My lips trailed a path of fire across Matt’s abdomen, soft kisses interspersed with bites and licks that sent shivers dancing down his spine. A low moan rumbled from his chest as I reached the sensitive skin of his hip bone, lingering there for a moment before continuing my ascent. My tongue darted out, tracing a hot streak from his collarbone to the hollow of his throat, where I lingered, savoring the way he shuddered against me. The taste of his skin sent a jolt of desire through me, and I moved up to his jaw. Finally, I reached his lower lip, the taste of him intoxicating. A soft lick, followed by a gentle bite, and then our lips met in a kiss that was both passionate and deeply tender.

A husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as he parted our lips. For a moment, I reached out instinctively, chasing after the retreating warmth of his kiss. A slow, teasing smile curved his lips as he saw my surprise. "Sit on my face," he murmured, his voice a low, dark command. A blush heated my cheeks, a mix of shyness and excitement. My breath hitched slightly, and then, with a nervous giggle, I began to make my way up. My legs brushed against his shoulders as I straddled him, carefully positioning myself. A thrill of anticipation shot through me as I felt the heat radiating from his face. I knew what was expected of me, and the power shift lit a spark of exhilaration deep within me. A playful glint lit up his eyes as I leaned away, a teasing question on my lips.

"When you said 'sit,' did you mean hover? I wouldn't want to..." My voice trailed off as a low chuckle escaped him. Before I could finish my sentence, he reached up, his hands finding my waist. His grip was firm yet gentle, a combination of control and playfulness. With a swift movement, he pulled me closer, guiding me down towards his face, making me fully sit on it. A moment of worry flickered across my face as my weight dipped, but it was quickly extinguished by the spark that burned within me as his hot breath washed over my pussy.

His tongue, a skilled explorer, found its target, sending shivers down my spine and waves of pleasure crashing over me in a delightful frenzy. My head arched back, revealing the full length of my throat, and my vision blurred at the edges as my eyelids fluttered open, revealing only the stark white beneath. A strangled cry escaped my lips from the intense pleasure he was making me feel. I started riding his face unconsciously, his grip on my hips tightened to hold me still. My left hand found its way to his hair, pulling gently, my right hand drifted to my boobs, tracing the frantic rise and fall of my breath. His grip on my waist remained firm with one hand. But his other hand moved with a desperate urgency, feeling the need to jerk himself off in the heat of the moment. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as his hand found its destination. A tremor ripped through me, a crescendo of pleasure that stole my breath and left me whimpering, a sound that echoed the shattering release washing over me as my muscles clenched and released in a delicious spasm. His own ragged breaths filled the space between us, a testament to the pleasure he'd taken from my release. A smile played on his lips, and his eyes held a raw hunger that both scared and excited me. My legs buckled beneath me, and I sagged onto his lap, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

My breath hitched as the last wave of pleasure subsided. Matt's chest heaved with exertion. A wide, triumphant grin stretched across his now wet face, his teeth gleaming in the light filtering through the window.

"That was incredible," I said, my mind a hazy fog of post-euphoria. Instinctively, I reached up, my fingers trailing across the muscles of his back.

"Do you really think I'm done with you?" he said as he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice rough with desire. A cocky glint flickered in his eyes. "Don't speak in past tense yet, sweetheart."

With that, he dipped his head, his lips brushing against my ear before he flipped us over. The rumpled sheets tangled around my legs as I found myself staring up at the ceiling, Matt's weight settling comfortably on top of me, grabbing himself and teasingly moving his cock up and down my pussy before positioning himself to my entrance.

The heat of his hardness pressed against me, sending a jolt of electricity through my core. He entered me slowly, making both of us gasp, and a whimper escaped my throat as he filled me completely.

His movements were slow and steady at first, allowing my body to adjust to his big dick. I could see the effort in his jaw clenched slightly, a flicker of control battling with desire in his eyes. The slow, measured thrusts began to pick up speed. His breaths grew heavier, punctuated by moans that mingled with my own. Uncapable of controlling himself for much longer, he abandoned the initial restraint, his movements becoming urgent and primal.

The frustration was delicious torture. Each new position brought me closer to the edge, a shimmering mirage just out of reach. Matt was on top again, but this time, a new element of control was added to the game. His hand pressed down on my lower stomach. The sensation, a mix of pleasure and restriction, sent shivers down my spine.

My mind fought a losing battle against the rising tide of pleasure coursing through me. He moved fast and hard inside me, each thrust getting me closer and closer to my orgasm. Words evaporated, replaced by moans escaping my lips. My breath hitched in my throat, his eyes held mine, a storm of blue swirling with possessiveness and desire. It was a challenge, a dare I couldn't resist. He moved with deliberate control, each thrust calculated to maximize my pleasure and his own. I knew I couldn't hold back much longer, not if he kept fucking me this good, not if he kept grunting and whimpering like he was.

A wave of shivers cascaded down my spine as I sensed my own vulnerability. The world narrowed to the exquisite pressure building within me, Matt’s voice a distant echo in my ears. 'I know you're close, I can feel it,' he rasped, his words laced with urgency. 'Finish for me, babe, finish with me, let me fill you up.'

Heat pulsed through my core; each touch a searing brand that sent shivers of ecstasy down my limbs. My muscles clenched, readying for the inevitable release. A guttural moan ripped from his throat, mirroring the escalating whimper escaping my lips. Then, in a glorious explosion of sensation, I shattered. A choked cry tore from my lips as pleasure washed over me in a tidal wave. He followed, a rough gasp escaping him as his body tensed and shuddered. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling in the aftermath, the shared release leaving us weak and trembling. Matt kissed me sloppily and slowly, a sweet exploration that left a trail of warmth on my lips.

As we lay side-by-side, catching our breath, a fit of giggles bubbled up from my chest. My cheeks burned, and I instinctively covered my face with my hands, a shy smile peeking through. Matt chuckled, the sound rich and warm. He turned on his side, his gaze tender as he gently removed my hands. My breath hitched as his fingers brushed against my cheek. He lingered there for a moment, his touch feather-light, before tracing a slow circle on my skin. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of our breathing mingling in the aftermath.

"Good morning, gorgeous." he whispered lovingly.

[acapelladitty]

could i request m!reader teaching maximus how to pleasure himself or even teaching him to to pleasure lucy? a first time between them. it doesn’t have to be strictly soft and sweet either. perhaps some teasing, premature ejaculation on maximus’ part. thank you for your time 😊💚

lessons in lust

Pairing: Maximus/M!Reader

Summary: Sick of being so inexperienced around sex, Maximus asks for help and you offer to show him the ropes (pun intended).

Fic Masterlist

In the week since Maximus had strolled into the bathroom you were hiding out in to enjoy a little private time, you had found his eyes burning into the back of your skull on multiple occasions - his face holding back a question he was desperate to ask.

Eventually you had given in.

What?

His answer had surprised you as much as it excited you.

Can you show me how you did that?

And so you found yourself sharing a cot with him, both sitting on opposite ends as something electric and unknown hung in the air.

In nothing but off-white underwear and an even dingier vest, the cloth more grey than anything, Maximus' face was oddly intense - the same intensity it no doubt held when the Brotherhood had him sit through their many lessons - and it was oddly endearing.

"Relax, Max." Sweeping your hands in front of you in a calming gesture, you hold his eye as you gently cup your cock through the fabric of your underwear. "Now, just watch and I'll talk you through what to do."

Pulling yourself free without shame, the way that Maximus' eyes widen fractionally as he takes in your brazen arousal sends a voyeuristic thrill down your spine. Cock in hand, you trail your fingers along your shaft as you tease the skin. Heat creeps across your neck with every stroke and you inhale deeply as you tilt closer to Maximus' position so he can see you as freely as possible.

"Some guys like a strong grip and some like it to be a bit softer. What matters is the friction and how good it feels as your hand glides across the skin."

"Uh huh." Swallowing, Maximus shifts uncomfortably and your eyes flick to the tent in his underwear which he seems determined to hide. "And what about the-" He gestures lower with his fingers, indicating your balls as they hang within their sac.

"Oh, the balls. Well, uh, it feels nice to play with them as you jerk off but they can be sensitive if you get a bit too rough."

"Okay. So not too hard."

Adding that to his mental list, Maximus leaned in closer as he ran a hand across his forehead - the fingers coming away damp with sweat.

"What about women? How do they-" Maximum lets the question trail off, his gaze slightly clouded by some distant thought. He had someone in mind, obviously, but the question catches you off-guard regardless, not expecting him to ask such a thing.

"Women have their own nice spots," you explain patiently as your hand continues to stroke along your cock with a practised ease, "and there's one near the top of their sex parts that feels even better than this apparently."

News to Maximus, his attention split between your cock and your face, he nodded sagely as though understanding what you were saying.

"So, if I find it then I pull it like that? Like you're doing?"

"Oh hell, no. Don't do that." Thinking of the few women you'd been with, you wince on their behalf as you continue to stroke along your cock. "It's too small anyway so you're supposed to touch it more gently."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah. All right, now I need you to pull yourself out for me." Feeling your balls tighten and your legs tense, you can sense your release approaching and you let go of your cock to stave it off for the moment and draw out the pleasure. "I can already see that you're feeling excited to show off."

Maximus does as told, a shy glance all he offers before his hands dip beneath the band of his underwear to release himself - his cock visibly straining and tenting against the fabric.

Pulling his cock free, the sight of him makes your own length twitch in hand. Different to your own, his cock is slightly larger in both length and girth and a stunning deep colour which looks both velvety and soft as it stands to attention. The tip of his cock is visibly wet, pre-cum leaking from his slit as the excitement of a free show and the pleasure to come has him ready to go.

Your own cock slick with pre-cum you match his movements as he strokes his hand along his cock, mutually masturbating while allowing him to set the pace.

Maximus pauses as his hand rolls over the engorged head of his cock, his spine stiffening as the sensitive nerves there overwhelm him for a moment. He seems to like it though as his lips form into a slight 'o' shape and he repeats the feat, his teeth coming into play as they bite at his bottom lip.

Having no concept of moderation, Maximus chases his pleasure with abandon - his hand moving quickly and messily across his length as he used the pre-cum as a makeshift lube for his hand. It's a show which makes your lose focus on yourself, your attention gripped by how easily he wears his pleasure on his handsome features.

Before too long, his sexual inexperience showing in how quickly he reaches his peak, Maximus' breathy grunts dissolve into a sharp moan and he comes all over himself; his release arcing in thin ropes across his hand and cock as he gazes down at himself with open interest. His brow is furrowed and you smile at how tense his features seem until the satisfaction of his release smooths him out.

"And it explodes every time?" Maximus asks shakily.

"Every time." Painfully hard now and aching for your own release, you continue to edge yourself as you answer his honest questions. "It's salty too. You can taste it, it won't do anything bad."

Experimentally, Maximus brings his fingers to his lips and tastes his own release with a heated expression, one laced with curiosity. It's a flavour which he reviews with a shrug.

"It's," he pauses, "different."

Suddenly struck by just how weird and intense and so fucking hot this whole scenario is, you match his dopey grin with one of your own as you roll your thumb across your cockhead and settle into your own arousal.

"Yeah. It's definitely different."

[kleftiko]

❦ CALL OUT MY NAME

“guess I was just another pit stop 'til you made up your mind. you just wasted my time."

cw: mature, sexual content, gn!reader, angst, infidelity, mentions of marking (tw: Naoya Zen'in)

Choso's laying in bed. Fingers play through his loose hair as he watches a show he's seen so many times that he's mouthing along to the dialogue. An empty box of takeout sits on his nightstand, and he's content.

The ambiance of his room is broken when his phone buzzes. At first he doesn't notice, then decides he doesn't care enough to check, but whether intuition or luck, he flips over his phone to see your name.

"What's up?" he's asking a second later, into the speaker.

There's a sniffle on your end.

"Can I come over?" you ask in a small, static, clouded voice.

"Of course," he says.

"Can we get fried rice?"

Choso's eyes flit to the empty container. "Sure, I was just getting hungry anyway."

"I'll be there soon."

Getting rid of the garbage takes two seconds; what takes so much longer is Choso figuring out what to do with all the time between now and when you show up at his door. He was overly critical of how he was sitting, what show was playing on the TV, and what kind of fried rice he should get—but it all went flying out the window when you opened his door with puffy eyes and a quivering lip.

He's on you in a second, helping you take off your jacket and asking what happened. But you don't say anything; instead, you climb into his bed and snuggle under the covers.

"He doesn't care about me." You whine.

Choso can't help that the sight of you tangling yourself in his sheets, knowing they're going to smell like you when you inevitably leave, makes his dick twitch.

"He's such a dick—God, why can't I just find someone better?" You huff, fluffing his pillow and laying your head on it.

He tentatively sits on the side of his bed, a large hand softly stroking your shoulder like he's done so many times.

"What happened this time?" He asks. You take a deep breath and begin to recount the details of your latest disappointment. It's always about your boyfriend, Naoya, and how he doesn't do this or say this to you. At this point, everything is a broken record; Naoya does something terrible, and you crawl to Choso for a moment, allowing him to hold, caress, and love you, before returning to your boyfriend.

Choso hates it. Hates that you won't leave the guy, hates that you take all the bullshit he throws at you, hates that you're always showing up at his door in tears—but he especially hates that he can never turn you away, hates that he lets you use him for a quick fuck that definitely means so much more to him than it ever will to you.

"And I mean, it's not even like I'm asking for much!" You vent.

Honestly, Choso's not paying attention to what you're saying; he's heard this speech so many times that he could recite it like the show that's still playing on his TV. But he knows what comes after; he knows that in a moment of vulnerability for both of you, your soft lips will finally touch his, and he could pretend for a brief moment that you are all his.

"Why can't I be with someone as sweet as you?" You breathe, leaning into him.

He doesn't wait for you to make the first move this time; he kisses you without taking a breath first—too eager to have you. As your lips meet, a surge of electricity courses through his veins, intensifying the connection between you. In that stolen moment, the world around him fades away, leaving only the two of you lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

It's all too soon that he's undressed you. The heat between you becomes almost unbearable. His lips run over the soft skin covering your entire body, right over the marks from another man. How he wished to do that to you as well, to erase any trace of anyone else. He wants to look down at your bare body and see his own masterpiece, not some other fuckers. But you'll never let him; your boyfriend was the only one allowed to do that. You've told him many times, and it's always a stab to his heart. A sick reminder of what he is to you and what he will never be.

But in some sadistic and satirical way, it never stops him from wanting to please you, to let you suffocate him with your trembling thighs as he eats you out in a desperate attempt for your approval.

He yearns to be the one who fulfills your desires, to be the artist who brings you pleasure and satisfaction. Despite the pain it causes him, he continues to strive for your acceptance, hoping that one day he will be enough for you.

But even when he's buried deep inside you, bringing tears of ecstasy to your eyes, you're still not looking at him. You're lost in your own world of pleasure, unaware of the emotional toll it takes on him. He longs for a connection beyond physical intimacy, craving the validation and recognition that he so desperately seeks from you. It's a bittersweet irony that even in moments of intense passion, he remains unseen and unnoticed by the one he yearns for. It doesn't matter that he brings you to one orgasm after another if he can't capture your attention and affection outside of the bedroom.

And right when he's on the brink of euphoria, head thrown back, grip like a vice against your hips, you tell him to pull out—he can't cum inside. And it doesn't matter that the sight of his cum splattering against your stomach is a sight that makes him immediately hard again; it's a cruel reminder that only your boyfriend has the pleasure of filling you up while he has to cum into the cool and unforgiving air between you. He now knows the moment is almost over.

Choso's laying in bed. Fingers trail over your exposed skin as the same show that was playing hours ago still runs. An untouched box of takeout sits on his nightstand, and he feels his heart sink at the thought of you waking up and leaving him alone.

[rizzyu]

▵▿— Discipline

— Doppio Dropscythe x fem!reader

Category: Very susggestive, just as you guys wanted, 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: You got a bit too bored in class and decided to tease your disciplinary boyfriend. But perhaps you took a bit too far…

CW: shameless reader frfr, palming, slight mention of erection, kissing

A/N: as a new scythekick, I believe there is not enough doppi fics on tumblr sadge

“Open up to page 256 and complete task 13 before the end of class.”

You mentally groaned. You’ve been stuck here in this boring hell of a history class for almost an hour and you believe that not a single word that left the teacher’s mouth was registered in your brain. The one thing keeping you from slamming your head against the table and fall asleep was the man sitting next to you: the disciplinarian from the student council, your boyfriend, Doppio Dropscythe.

Engulfed in unbearable boredom, a ridiculously risky idea popped into your head. Your lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. Why not have some fun? You leaned forward to whisper against his ear, your breath tickling his skin. “Pio-chan… I’m getting bored, why don’t you entertain me for a bit?” You hand travelled down his arm, fingers ever-so-lightly grazing his sensitive skin, before bringing your hand down to his crotch, palming him through his dark green checkered slacks.

A shock of electricity ran down Doppio’s spine, his eyes widened as he felt his cheeks heat up. “H-Hey we’re in class right now…” Doppio’s gaze scanned over the other students in the room, making sure nobody knew what was happening between the two of you. You leaned so close that your lips brushed against his skin, causing his breath to hitch. “And? Let them watch. It’s better than listening to this painfully boring class for any longer.” You moved your free hand up to the vast plane of his chest, feeling his heat seep through the fabric of his clothes. Doppio snatched your hand away, his ears dusted a bright shade of pink. He briefly opened his mouth, yet he was too flustered to speak.

“What’s wrong Pio-chan? Cat caught your tongue?”

God your endless teasing is driving him insane. You retracted your hands and turned your attention back to the workbook in front of you, pretending as if nothing ever happened, leaving the poor man all flustered and yearning for more. His trousers became tighter and he abruptly crossed his legs as a poor attempt to hide his growing tent. Doppio took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down. Damn how was he supposed to continue class work after what just happened?!

The school bell rang, signalling the end of the class. You packed away all your books and got ready to leave the classroom with your friends, but then—

“Y/N can you stay back in class with me for a moment?”

Just as you were about to leave, that familiar deep voice called you to you. Your heart immediately started thumping fasting in anticipation and adrenaline. You were in big trouble with Doppio and you knew it.

“I’m sure you know what I held you back for.”

The classroom was empty except for you, him and the heavy tension in the air. Doppio stood in front of you with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He has never been like this to you before, and the new experience was filling you with eagerness and anticipation. You had your head hung low, hiding the smirk plastered on your face.  

A slender finger came down to hook under your chin, lifting your head up, forcing you to look Doppio in the eye. You wouldn’t help but be mesmerized by his eyes. The way the green and gold of his eyes fit perfectly together… The way those gorgeous eyes of his would gleam… Without a word, Doppio snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your lips collided with each other. The man didn’t even give you time to think before sliding his warm tongue into the cave of your mouth.

Your mind was hazy and all you could focus on was how his lips were on yours and how his large hands roamed all over you, sending shivered down your spine. You hadn’t even noticed, but Doppio already had you pushed up against the classroom wall, leaving you nowhere to escape. He hooked a hand under your knee and wrapped one of you legs around his waist causing your uniform skirt to ride up ever so slightly as he pulled back just enough to whisper against your swollen lips. “Don’t think you can get away from what you did in class, darling”

“Doppi wait—” There was no time for you to speak before he pulled you forward by the collar into another heated kiss. His hand began trailing up and down your leg as you desperately clung onto his clothes, balling the fabric of his magenta coloured sweater into tight fists. Doppio’s face was flushed and his lips were red and swollen as he looked at you with dark, hooded eyes. He leaned up against you until his lips brushed against your ear, just like what you did to him before.

“Be a good girl and face your discipline alright?”

what's with all the sussy fics recently u ask? it's a phase