#Shadow: *completely enamored*

[kaenith]

Winter's Delight (@fswintersdelight), day 26

Happy December! Hope everyone's been staying safe and warm (or safe and cool, if you're in the southern hemisphere!)

[frenchiefieart]

It feels annoyingly comforting when their soul jams are pressed together and it makes them both feel some type of way.. bad?? good??? enamored??? disgusted? complete?? all of those things? :)c shadow milk especially, after having been trapped for thousands of years, he's gotta be SO touch starved

[illyrianbitch]

In Every Universe

Pairing: Reader x Azriel, Minor Elain x Lucien

Summary: Elain catches you asking Azriel if you're destined to be together in every universe.

Warnings: mostly fluff, pining, soulmatism, brief mentions of violence/blood/death, elain as your no.1 shipper, elucien being sweet

Word Count: 3.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The wood of the doorframe was rough beneath Elain’s fingers as she lingered in the opening.

Elain loved the Day Court—the sun-kissed glow of her skin, the endless warmth that felt like home. But every now and then, it was healing to return to her family, to see them, to know they were okay. Visits to the Night Court with Lucien at her side were rare since they’d started their family, but they always felt meaningful. There was a peace in these nights, a quiet place to rest and breathe. And sometimes, it gave her this: a glimpse of the people she loved, caught in the small, unspoken ways they cared for one another.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the celestial device. Feyre had told her about it, but Elain’s mind had forgotten to store away the proper name. She blamed it on her pregnancy brain at the time of the conversation. The device glowed as it slowly spun, scattering faint patterns of light over you and Azriel as you stood together, watching in awe. 

It was slightly ironic to Elain that she was able to sneak up and observe such an intimate moment without Azriel, the most-feared Spymaster, noticing. But, in all truth, she wasn’t entirely surprised. You and Azriel had your own world, held moments that seemed like they existed only for you two—even Azriel’s shadows became something else entirely, something distracted and completely enamored with you. 

“It’s… beautiful,” you said, the words reverent. “Gods, what a wonder we live in.”

Azriel hummed a sound that sounded a lot like agreement— like complete contentment. Elain recognized it slightly, almost felt compelled to compare it to the cat that Vassa and Jurian had dubbed the true ruler of the mortal lands. She stifled a laugh at the thought. 

You pointed at something—a star, perhaps—and said something Elain couldn’t hear, your voice too soft. Azriel tilted his head toward you and his shadows swirled around you both, gentle and calm tendrils wrapping themselves through the edges of your hair strands. Azriel murmured something back, and though Elain couldn’t catch the words, she saw the way they made you smile.

There was no hesitation in his movements as he reached out, scarred fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was light, practiced, and it made him look entirely at home. Of course it did. He’d done it a hundred times before. You didn’t flinch or startle—didn’t even pause. Instead, you tilted into him slightly, the curve of your smile deepening.

Elain’s heart blossomed. She wondered, for a brief, fleeting moment, if anyone had seen such moments with her and Lucien– wondered if her eyes glowed just like yours. 

Azriel shifted his gaze to you, and Elain could have sworn she watched his eyes dilate even from feet away. His thumb grazed your temple as he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

You leaned into the brush of his fingers. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Azriel repeated, amused. His thumb drew a lazy circle across your skin. “I can practically see the gears turning in there.”

A laugh. You shrugged, and a glimmer of amusement sparkled in your eyes. “It just makes me wonder.”

“About?”

Elain found herself leaning forward slightly, awaiting your answer as if she had been talking to you herself. You casted a glance back at the device before you. 

 “What else is out there, you know?” You tilted your head in contemplation, and Azriel pulled you into a soft embrace as you continued, “And that Bryce girl. I mean, if there are other worlds like hers, do you think…”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your center, placing an affectionate kiss to your clothed shoulder. Then, he placed his head into the crook of your neck. “Do I think what, my love?’

You turned your head to meet his eyes. “Do you think we’re together in each of them?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his silence thoughtful rather than hesitant. 

And then the room began to shift. Or maybe it was just Elain. She stood up straighter and took a deep breath as the device before you both blurred, its golden light fracturing into something softer, quieter— a divine invitation. 

Elain let herself be pulled through.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The cannon fire echoed like thunder. 

One, then another, and another still. 

Azriel’s head tilted. “Two,” he murmured. “Close.”

You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Your mind raced through the possibilities—faces you’d seen only hours ago. A girl in the meadow. That boy with the scar. Maybe someone who’d deserved it. Maybe someone who hadn’t.

“So that makes it five.” You gripped the hilt of your blade tighter, sweat slipping down your palm. “Besides us, there's only five left.”

Azriel was quiet. 

“Come on,” he said, already turning. “You need to head east, away from the canons. I’ll lead them away from you.”

You caught his wrist. It was instinct, almost violent, and your nails dug into his skin. “No.”

He stopped. Turned back slowly, and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I’m not leaving you behind. We finish this together. You can’t keep putting yourself—”

“I can,” he cut in, voice cold. “And I will.”

“I won’t let you.”

Something cracked in his expression then. His lips parting like he wanted to argue, like he was ready to fight.

“Let me?” he repeated, his voice low. Dangerous. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“And you don’t get to decide for me.”

There was a silence that filled the space between you. Your hand, still wrapped around his wrist, softened into something almost reminiscent of a lover's hold. 

“Don’t make me watch you die,” you said finally. “Don’t do that to me, Azriel.”

His eyes softened just enough to hurt.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive.”

“Why?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. “You can win this. You know you can. Why throw away your chances for me?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like the words were too heavy to say. But when his gaze met yours, there was no hesitation.

“You know why.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“It’s the same reason you killed that girl from six.” His voice was quiet. “For me.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. His hand, warm and calloused, brushed the back of your fingers.

“So don’t ask me to stop,” he said. “The capitol has taken so much from me. They’ve destroyed everything I cared about.  I won’t let them take you.  Not while I’m still breathing.”

A loud crack sounded in the distance. The world shifted again, a soft breeze carrying with it a sky speckled with stars.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cicada songs threaded through the air like an ancient hymn. You sat near the embers of a dying fire, the orange glow licking against the edges of the stone walls surrounding you. 

Azriel sat a few paces away, his back resting against one of the columns. His tunic was simple, sandals dusty from the day’s travel, but there was something about the way he held himself that made him seem as much a part of the night as the stars overhead.

“Do you think they truly listen?” you asked him.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you. “The gods?” 

You nodded, not sparing him a glance. Your eyes were glued to the heavens above, to the glistening stars that seemed to be leaning closer, listening.

“They hear everything,” he responded. “The question is whether they care.”

You turned to him then, the corner of your lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You don’t honor them?”

Azriel’s eyes scanned your face before he responded simply, “I’ve been given no reason to.”

“And you aren’t afraid of angering them?”

“I’m afraid of man more than I am of the gods.”

A flicker passed through your face, something thoughtful, contemplative. “What would you pray for, if you thought they did listen?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His scarred hands rested on his knees, the firelight painting shadows across them. There was a weight in his silence, a deliberation that pressed against the edges of the night. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before, almost a confession.

“I’d ask them to leave us be. To let us live without their meddling.”

You studied him. The sincerity of his words seemed to tug at something in your chest. “You think they’d grant a prayer like that?”

Azriel’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “No,” he said simply. “But I’d still ask.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Stubborn,” you murmured, though your tone was warm.

When he fell silent again, you observed him once more. “What else is on your mind?”

Azriel didn’t answer right away. His gaze turned back to the fire, as if searching for something in its depths. “You could be one.”

You blinked at him, thrown. “One what?”

“A god,” he said, his eyes shifting to meet yours. “A proper one. A kind one.”

Your chest tightened, nerves prickling at the edges of your mind. “Azriel,” you said, your voice low, almost a warning. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he asked. “If I can see it, do you think they can’t?”

You glanced up at the stars, as if expecting them to strike him down then and there. “Because it’s not for us to claim,” you whispered. “And because it’s not true.”

Azriel leaned in slightly. “It is true,” he said, as though daring you to contradict him. “You stand apart. You always have.”

“Azriel—” 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “If they did listen, if they cared, they’d envy what I see in you.”

You didn’t know how to answer. Azriel reached out then, his scarred hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. You swallowed hard.

“And what of you?” You asked. “If I’m to be a god, would you be one, too?”

He shook his head and a sweet smile made its way onto his face. His brows furrowed softly. Your fingers twitched as if you ached to smooth the crease between them.

“I think I was born to follow you.”

The fire light around you flickered, and the music of the cicadas began to reverberate, stretching and pulling like a ribbon in the wind. Soon, sounds began to fill the air—smooth instruments, slow and electric. 

Warping, stretching, bleeding into something else.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were perched on a velvet stool at the edge of the bar, watching the crush of dancers sway in time to the music. There was a faint scent of cigarette smoke that clung to the air, a smell that somehow mingled perfectly with the sharp tang of liquor and the sweetness of spilled champagne.

Azriel appeared beside you without a word. He wasn’t dressed to stand out— black suit, white shirt, no tie— but somehow, in the haze of golden light and shadow, he drew every glance. You adjusted the strap of your dress, the sequins catching what little light there was, throwing sparks of silver onto the walls. 

“You’ve been hiding,” he said. 

You turned your head to meet his gaze. There was something steady in it, like he’d been waiting for you to notice him. “I didn’t know I was being looked for.”

Azriel’s lips curved. “You always are.”

Your breath hitched, just enough to be noticeable, but you masked it with a sip of your drink— one with fading bubbles. “And here I thought I was just another face in the crowd.”

“Not to me,” Azriel said simply, as if it were the plainest fact on Earth. His gaze didn’t leave yours. “Never to me.”

The band transitioned into a slower tune, the saxophone drawing out a melody that made your face soften. You looked down to hide your growing smile, cheeks now rosy from Az’s attention.

“You’re not dancing,” he noted, eyes flicking briefly to the crowded floor. 

“I don’t know if it's the right night for that.”

“Maybe you just need the right partner.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and when he held out his hand— scarred, steady— you didn’t hesitate to take it. He led you to the dance floor with a gentle hold, drawing you into his arms. 

“You didn’t have to come find me,” you murmured, your gaze tracing the lines of his face.

Azriel’s eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a soft smile. “I’ll always find you.”

The music slowed, and the world softened with it.

And then, the light dimmed, fading into the deep, quiet shadows of something colder, untouched, an air heavy with the scent of pine and earth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Two wolves emerged from the shadows, moving together, their coats brushing in fleeting touches. It was a quiet language— small movements of instinct and closeness. One was a shadow itself, dark fur absorbing the moonlight. The other was lighter, sleek and graceful, its movements quieter but no less assured.

The darker wolf paused, tilting its head toward its companion, a huff of warm breath visible in the chilled air. The lighter one hesitated, then stepped closer, nuzzling its muzzle against the dark wolf’s neck, a gesture of comfort—or reassurance. The dark wolf stilled at the touch, its golden-hazel eyes half-closing as if the simple act of connection mattered more than the world around them.

And then it turned, moving quietly into the heavy, shrouded forest. The lighter wolf turned to follow the dark one, glancing back only once before disappearing into the trees.

A sharp shift—the silence of the forest soon replaced by the soft crunch beneath leather winter boots.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You and Azriel approached the house ahead, its exterior draped in a plethora of colorful Christmas lights. The world was still, save for the muffled laughter drifting from inside, and you pulled your coat tighter against the cold.

“We’re late,” you murmured, quickening your step.

Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “I doubt they mind.”

You shot him a pointed look, but Azriel only chuckled again. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.When you reached the door, your hand had barely touched the handle before Azriel stopped you, his hand brushing yours. You glanced up at him, frowning, only to catch the cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he tilted his chin toward the frame.

There, hanging above the doorway, was a sprig of mistletoe.

“Mistletoe,” you said with a sweet hum. You met Azriel’s eyes.

“Cassian or Nesta?” He asked.

“Definitely Nesta,” you said. “She loves her romance.”

He nodded in agreement. “It is a romantic tradition.”

Azriel stepped closer, lifting a hand to cradle your face as he kissed you—soft and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, your cheeks warmed under his gaze, his forehead brushing yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

The words were soft, meant just for you.

“I love you, t—”

The door sprang open and a shrieking voice filled the air with an excited, “Momma!”

You barely had time to turn before your son barreled into your arms, his eyes bright and his arms outstretched. You caught him easily, lifting him with a grin.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey, buddy,” Azriel said, leaning over to ruffle his messy curls. His mini-me only giggled and nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck. A true momma’s boy. From inside, more laughter echoed, and Cassian appeared around the corner, grinning wide as he carried your daughter—upside down—by her ankles. Her delighted shrieks filled the house.

“Cassian!” you called, trying to suppress a laugh.

“What? She loves it!” Cassian shot back, clearly pleased with himself.

“Put her down,” you said, stepping inside as Azriel snorted behind you.

Cassian finally relented, lowering her to the ground. She didn’t hesitate, darting forward to wrap her arms around Azriel. She barely reached his hip, and he crouched slightly, holding her close like it was second nature.

“Sorry we’re late,” you said, closing the door. You wiped your shoes on the matt below you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nesta’s voice said, drifting into the room before she rounded the corner from the kitchen. Her hair was in a loose bun, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She stopped at Cassian’s side, offering her husband a small nudge. “Our date nights always run late too.”

Her daughter trailed behind her, blue eyes already half-rolling. "Yeah. We need to talk about punctuality in this family."

She breezed past you and Azriel, offering you both quick hello’s before darting up the stairs.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but the action was affectionate. Comfortable. “Teenagers,” she muttered. Cassian slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning. “She’s going through a phase.”

“Heard that!” came a sharp voice from upstairs.

You stifled a laugh, glancing at Azriel. His eyes widened slightly, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked, almost reluctant smile—amused, exasperated, and entirely Azriel.

Nesta gestured toward your son, now half-asleep against your shoulder, and your daughter, who was eagerly tugging Azriel toward the living room to show off the fort her and Cassian had made. “Enjoy this,” Nesta said with a smirk. “While it lasts.”

A dreamy smile spread across your face as you watched them. “Oh, Nes,” you said softly. “I plan to enjoy it all.”

The room seemed to shimmer, the sounds of laughter melting into something darker, quieter. 

And then, without warning, the world changed.

Cold. Hollow. Dark.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“God, you look beautiful.”

You turned to Azriel, breathless, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. His golden-hazel eyes burned as they swept over you, lingering on the streaks of blood splattered across your cheek. 

“You really think so?” you hummed, stepping closer, boots crunching against the broken glass scattered across the floor. The room reeked of iron and fear, the man slumped against the wall choking on his last breaths.

Azriel tilted his head, his shadows twisting and curling at his feet like they were alive, waiting for a command. “I’d argue you’ve never looked more stunning.”

Your grin grew, something divinely sinful, and you pulled the gun from the back of your waistband. The barrel gleamed in the dim light. “Would you like the honors, my love?”

Azriel’s hand brushed yours as he took the gun— perfectly smooth skin speckled in streaks of red. “Of course.”

The man whimpered as Azriel crouched before him, his shadows licking at the edges of the room, swallowing the light. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look away as Azriel tilted the man’s chin with the barrel, his voice low and almost tender. You seemed proud, even. Powerful.

“You should’ve known better.”

With a single, swift pull of the trigger, it was over. Azriel stood, wiping the gun against his pants before turning back to you.

“The others are all yours,” he murmured, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, smearing blood across your temple.

“And they said romance was dead,” you said, leaning into his touch.

Azriel grinned, and for a moment, the bloodlust that had overtaken the room seemed to fade. He pulled you close, lips crashing onto yours in a brutal, animalistic kiss. When you finally pulled away, breathless and wild, Azriel’s gaze was sharp—hungry. His eyes gleamed with something darker now.

“You’re the only one who ever understands,” he whispered.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Elain?”

Elain gasped and snapped back to the present, her body slightly recoiling like a thread once strung tight. She blinked and turned her head, watching the beautiful face of her mate come into focus. His eyes were fixed on her, that familiar gleam in them.

“Hmm?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Where did you just disappear to?” 

Lucien’s hand gently swept her curly hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck, and allowed his palm to settle there— fingers brushing lightly against her skin, thumb grazing the underside of her jaw. Elain melted into the touch. 

The remnants of her vision— of that twisted, vicious kiss between you and Azriel– still lingered at the edges of her mind, making her uneasy. But it was already fading, like a bad dream melting away in the morning light, as she looked at Lucien. The warmth of his touch steadied her, grounding her back into the reality of this life— something far less terrifying, far more full of light. Elain let her mind wander to the other thing she’d seen, to the cicada songs and the mistletoe. 

“Let me tell you later.”

Lucien’s smile softened in that kind way that made Elain’s heart feel full, like it might spill over.  “Alright,” he said.

“Oh, Elain, Lucien!”

Your voice broke the quiet, pulling their attention toward you as you approached, Azriel in tow. His shadows moved faster than he did, twisting around you in fluid motions, draping themselves over your limbs like they were part of you instead of the shadowsinger himself.

“Have you been here for long?” You asked as you met them at the doorway. “I’m so sorry we didn’t notice. We were in our own world.”

Azriel greeted her and Lucien with a small smile. But, as usual, his eyes drifted to you immediately, brightening in their glow as he watched you.

“No, no,” Lucien answered, noticing Elain hadn’t responded yet. “We were just making our rounds.”

You beamed. “Well, you should take some time in here. It’s beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Elain said softly.

You shook your head, glancing at Azriel for a moment before you leaned into him, placing a hand on his chest and giving it a light tap. “We’re actually about to leave. We’ve got reservations for our anniversary.”

“What does today mark?” Lucien asked.

Azriel’s voice was light as he wrapped an arm around you. “430 years.” 

“Can you believe he’s put up with me that long?” you said, a teasing smile on your lips.

Lucien laughed. “I’d say its the other way around.”

Azriel laughed, then, too, rolling his eyes in a way that seemed so brotherly that Elain’s smile almost split her cheeks in two.

“You’re meant for one another,” Elain found herself saying. “Happy anniversary.”

Azriel nodded in thanks as you smiled and moved to leave. He patted Lucien’s shoulder as he brushed past, and Elain let her gaze linger on your retreating forms for a moment, catching another small moment as Az cheekily smacked your ass, causing you to let out a small amused shriek and push him away.

For a moment, Elain was almost tempted to ask Lucien the same question you’d asked Azriel: Do you think we’re together in each life? But it was silly– fruitless, really. Because Elain knew, with certainty, that she’d find her loyal, flame-branded mate in every universe. In every form.

She’d seen it herself. 

So instead, Elain grabbed his hand, interlaced their fingers, and said, “Let’s admire our world.”

And as always, Lucien followed her without protest. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note:

I had a vision (tehehe) of this one shot and i dont think i did it justice but alas, here she is. also are you truly soulmates if you arent evil sociopathic villains in at least one universe? me thinks no

also fun fact, 5/6 of these au’s are scrapped ideas i’ve had🫣

thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻 (this so desperately needs to be updated, i fear): 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @paradisebabey

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits 

[alien-magnolia]

You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.

[xoxochb]

pls more fics with riordanverse characters x persephone!reader !!!!

— cinnamon girl

warnings: none? pairings: riordanverse boys x daughter of persephone a/n: I didn’t want to chose so I just did all of them at once including percy again, I hope you don’t mind angel

percy jackson loves leaving flowers at your doorsteps every morning. sometimes if he’s lucky he’ll catch you on your way out of your cabin and he’s able to hand them to you personally. he prefers this over anonymously gifting them (even if you know it’s him every time) mainly because he loves the way your face lights up instantly and you reward him with a sweet kiss to his pink cheeks. he also finds himself taking in your scent whenever you hug, you always smell like your favorite flowers and fruits, something he’s grown to love dearly. when percy finds himself with free time he likes to pick flowers and weave them into a flower crown for you; you’d taught him prior how to do so, he recalls the soft gestures with your hands and your sweet like honey voice instructing him on how to do so, with this knowledge he uses it to create a crown exactly your size, giving it to you after you’ve had a long day, instantly washing away your previous worries when you settle in the arms of your most beloved

jason grace likes to help you tend to your garden. whether it’s late at night, early morning, mid day, or even if it means skipping meals to do so. sometimes he often finds himself reading books on various types of plants and flowers so when you’re speaking to him about them he’s able to understand what you’re talking about. he’ll also use this knowledge to his ability to impress you (he did this a lot before you began dating— even know he won’t admit to it but you know the truth). since jason is a frequent visiter to your garden he bought his own tools so you wouldn’t have to share with him. although he won’t admit this, jason is a sucker for your kisses, specifically after you’ve picked a fresh fruit and taken a bite from it, he makes sure write after to claim your lips with his, often he takes a bite of it himself to try your masterpiece, at the same time eating it so his lips taste as sweet as yours. jason also enjoys picking your fruits and vegetables with you and helping you prepare a dish with those crops. most frequently you’ll bake pies or cakes with the fruits, and even if jason isn’t fond of that certain fruit he’ll eat it regardless because you made it and he loves you (he additionally gets to see your bright smile when he says he enjoys it. he’d never miss an opportunity to make you smile)

leo valdez was intimidated by you at first sight. he believed you were gorgeous, yes, there was no doubt in his mind that you were anything less than ethereal. but you were also horrifying. with your abilities to control shadows— courtesy of your mother being the queen of the underworld— you could pop out from the darkness at will. once leo got to know you he realized you were as sweet as the fruits you grew, an angel. his cheeks as red as your favorite pomegranates when you call him out for stuttering after you gained the knowledge that he was afraid of you before. nonetheless he’s enamored with you, completely and utterly. he loves how everytime you walk, flowers grow and return from the dead if wilting, shades of blue, green, red, pink, purple, and ant imaginable color you’d like. you often find yourselves in the fields, you pick a few flowers from the ground and stick them into leo’s curls, making his face flush a pink hue at your affectionate action.

luke castellan likes when you tell him about your underworld-ly related powers. he’s well aware your mother is known for her spring, gardening persona but he’s also interested in the aspects of her personality that include being the wife of the god of the dead. you often find yourself in your free time taking luke to your fields with your necromancy books and teaching him the ways of contacting the dead. he listens attentively (which includes 99% staring at your lips and 1% listening. he can’t help it when they’re still red from the fruits you ate earlier, he even sneaks a few kisses in when your in thought— ultimately stopping you from thinking). not only can you contact the dead but you’re also able to travel through plants similar to the hades children, though it works just about the same and drains you just as much. luke lovingly scolds you every time you use this ability when it’s not necessary, he hates seeing you in agony regardless of what happened. and speaking of agony, persephone children can heal themselves with their plants easily, but luke also can’t help but worrying every time you hurt yourself or prick your hand on a thorn or whatever caused you harm, it’s just in his nature as your dear boyfriend

[bonbonly]

bon's thoughts (18+) a/n: adding lando to the hollywood!au

paparazzi photographer!lando norris who sees you stepping out of the limousine for the premiere of a new film under Sainz's production house. he was always your fan, even before he landed this job.

he snaps a couple photos of you, completely enamored by your beauty and grace and when you pass by him, flashing that darling smile of yours, you notice the way only his camera doesn't capture you.

his eyes do, however.

you've seen him around, you know his face very well. everytime he thought he was being slick and taking secret photos of you for the tabloids, you knew he was lurking around in the shadows. you also knew that a young man like him would be taking photos when you purposefully decided to stand naked near the large windows of your estate; he definitely has a collection of photos that he takes for himself. but it's all in good fun, at least that's what he's telling himself every time you laugh at him before closing the curtains.

and so when he sees you at the premiere tonight, all dolled up and only staring at him and his camera, he's convincing himself that you're not really looking at him. why would anyone try to take note of him? especially when producer!sainz had his arm wrapped around your waist possessively, when retired actor!alonso was grabbing your ass as he walked by you on the red carpet. or even when the new face actor!leclerc gently kissed your cheek that seemed more like a threat than a welcoming gesture.

the bathroom for the non-celebs are in the far corner of the auditorium that was rented out for the night. lando knows his schedule is tight since he has to run back right after to talk to the famed actor!verstappen about another film that will surely bring him a new set of accolades, but as soon as he opens the door, he sees you in your big white fur coat and a smirk on your lips.

"had to look all over the place for you, you know?" you snickered, "always trying to run from me, and acting like nothing's happened between us. come on, don't be so dull now."

he opens his mouth to argue, trying to push out the whole "i'm just trying to do my job miss, i don't know what you're talking about..." but it's quickly swallowed when he sees you getting on your knees. and then all restraint is lost.

you're bobbing your head around his thick cock, slurping up his pre-cum and batting your eyelashes. a sight that he swear he'll see every day in heaven and he grabs his phone, snapping a couple pictures of the way your tongue swirls around his tip. you probably even let your dress slip to your waist, forcing him to crouch down against the wall of the bathroom as you smush his cock between your tits, sliding them up and down as you watch him moan quietly at how good you feel, how this is pure bliss.

his cum splatters all over your tits, and you giggle obscenely as you kiss his throbbing tip. he bucks his hips up, groaning under his breath at how sensitive he is. and just as you're about to get up and exit, he grabs you and bends you over the counter.

"i'm really sorry, miss (l/n)," he grunts, hiking your dress up to reveal that you weren't wearing any panties for tonight, his cock gliding against your glistening folds, "oh fuck... i've always wanted to know what it really feels like beyond the photos."

and who were you to judge your number one fan?

[cinhomi]

𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Han Jisung x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and your soulmate in a random morning of May

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: descriptions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, no dynamic specified, vanilla, talks of death and afterlife

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

“Ji?”

It's warm. The Sun’s rays penetrate the cream colored curtains of his bedroom and dance on your naked skin. The tree outside paints stunning shadows that turn into shapes that move with the light, in a psychedelic motion that molds with your bodies. A pantone of warm colors reflects everywhere and it's as if they're about to spill in your heart, too.

“Yeah, baby?”

His voice is barely a whisper, his breath tickles your ear. You can feel his hand move from your side to go up, up, until it reaches your neck and his fingers delicately close round it. You feel his bottom lip first, then the upper one, as he starts to leave little pecks on your nape, your jawline. The presence of his other arm is persistent, under you, dragging you closer until your back is flat on his chest. The pendant of his necklace starts to leave a print between your shoulder blades.

“Do you think there's life after death?”

He halts his actions. Jisung leaves another kiss behind your ear and inhales, hoping to get drunk with your scent. His hand caresses your cheek, and then travels down to your arm, finding your wrist, taking it close to his pretty mouth to rest there, to let him kiss it. He presses your digits on his lips and gives attention to each of them. It takes him a while to reply, but you give him all the time he needs.

“I like to believe that there is, yes.” his eyes close for a moment, it's almost as if he wants to memorize your fingerprints. “Where does this question come from, baby?”

When you turn around to face him you find his faint smile, his adoring eyes that trail from your chest, to your lips, to your own irises. There's a rebelling tuft of curly hair that stands alone on his head, and the mole on his cheek moves whenever he swallows. You caress the one placed on his collarbone, before taking a deep breath. “I just… I was thinking- when we die… our body remains here, right?”

Jisung nods and hums, brows furrowing slightly, trying to predict the path your thoughts will take.

“And, wouldn't it be sad if it all ended… like that? Or maybe- or maybe that's the beauty of it? In the end we really always kind of leave a piece of us here. Being it bones or ashes…"

He hooks the necklace he gifted you the night prior, twistes it in his hand and watches it shine. “I always feel like we're too big to just end with death, you know? I don't know if we actually reincarnate or if something like Heaven or Hell exists, but I don't want to- no, I can't accept the idea of disappearing from the universe completely.” he explains, all while bringing you close to him again, your breasts now against his chest, your leg brushing his glutes as he takes it to rest on his hip. “Do you agree?”

“Yeah,” you pout, your hands open to feel his muscles tense under your touch, “we are immense. Don't you ever think that, sometimes, you have strong feelings about something because you were connected with it in your previous life?”

Jisung nods, he leaves a kiss on the crown of your head. “For example?” he chimes in, resting his head on your pillow.

“Well,” you start, a hint of a giggle already threatening your voice, “maybe you're scared of bugs because in a previous life one killed you!” and a light slap can be heard on your shoulder as he shakes his head trying to suppress a smile.

“I thought you were about to be all cute and reference us… tch.” he looks at the ceiling, faking being offended.

“What do you mean?” and at your question his farce crumbles immediately, enamored eyes staring down at you.

“Maybe we're together now because we were lovers in our past life, too. No?”

All words die in your throat. There's a block forming in the pit of your stomach and your waterline starts to tingle.

“From the first moment my eyes laid on you, I knew you were the one. Sometimes I think I've known you all my existence, sometimes I wonder if we come from the same star.”

“Ji…” before he can see your expression you bury your head in his chest, “this is disgustingly romantic…”

He giggles. You look at him again just to get a glimpse of his gummy smile, maybe searching for the crooked teeth he had once. You miss it sometimes.

Jisung gets up on his elbows and in moments like these he seems bigger. His shoulders are up straight, chest popped up, slim waist twisted making the faint lines of his abs become curves. You'd look at his thighs and at his cock too, but grey cotton sheets cover it all.

“But it's true! It's true… I refuse to believe otherwise. We're together in every universe, baby.” his gaze fixed on yours. “Is it childish to think so?”

You shake your head, blinking slowly. Sunlight is still a bit too strong, your eyes straining from it, but the way it reflects on him, it's mesmerizing. Jisung takes your face in his hands and kisses you, tenderly, totally opposed to how he did it the night prior. It's so sweet, it's overwhelmingly sweet and you can't help but melt as his index finger caresses the corner of your eye, as his thumb taps your bottom lip for him to take between his. There's still a slight ache between your legs but it's a lovely feeling. There's still the smell of your juices, your panties by the end of the bed, his shirt hanging on the corner of his TV.

“I'll find you in every universe,” he whispers between kisses, “I'll be by your side, even if we become different things, I'll- I'll find a way, angel, I'll find it.” more urgently, his cold rings roam on your back, lifting you up enough to have his arms around you. It makes you sigh, it makes you whimper.

“I- I want-” you gasp, his tongue is under your jaw and it keeps on traveling down every valley of your body. There are soft but obnoxious sounds now echoing in the room. There's also a dog barking in the distance, few cars passing by, someone opening their shutters. “I want everything I lost to- come back to me, Jisung…”

His head is now on your belly, he stays there with his eyes closed. Jisung sighs. He kisses your belly button and goes even lower, almost disappearing under the covers.

“It will…” he inhales your smell, you, groaning against your navel, “it's already here angel. You may not be seeing it, but you're already surrounded by it. You said that, we just leave our bodies-” he checks on your expression quickly. “You feel it, don't you?”

He sees your eyelashes flutter and your head moving up and down. Jisung kisses your clit, and then your labia, and his eyes roll back when your soft sounds reach him. When your leg lifts and your knee presses on his cheek, nudging him away, big round confused eyes run all over you once again.

“Inside…” even if the sentence floats between you too, Jisung understands. He comes up and the way the freshly clean cotton falls from his figure reminds you that time at the lake, when he came out from the water to make love to you under a willow. He's hard, you feel it against your thigh.

“Need me to stretch you?” he's whispering, he's kissing your left shoulder. As you shake your head, his tip is already catching in your entrance.

“It'll be okay baby. I know you miss them, but your heart is big,” his cock slowly slips inside you as he speaks, “your heart is big and I love you for this reason.” and then you find yourself full, of him, of his sweet words, full of light and sorrow and sadness and cheesecake. You feel so many things, it's only natural that some tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but Jisung kisses them all away, but Jisung hushes you and rolls his hips deeper into you, with the same rhythm of the tap of your kitchen sink, that broke two days ago. Later he’ll call someone to fix it.

When your palms glide on his back you feel bumps, formed as long streaks. You close your eyes, you touch them like a blind person reading braille, you try to read him. It's written “I love you” all over. He adores it when you hold him flush over you, when your nails cling to him as he thrusts into you, adores your delirant praise, hushed under your breath.

Jisung drags his voice in long moans, you feel them hot on your neck, they alternate with hisses while his eyes squeeze shut and fight to stay open, to witness how your own face moves. They reverberate in your chest and your heart is being caressed. What was warm light now is scorcingly hot directly against your bodies, a sheen of sweat making you sparkle. It's such a nice day, you should grab coffee together later. Take his sunglasses maybe. His hoodie. His soul. He doesn't mind.

“Baby…” it's hoarse now, it'll sound melodic again when he's calm, “baby you are my everything-” his hips pick up speed, they falter, his thighs burn. When you wrap your legs on his lower half, when your heels press on him they stutter and Jisung chokes on his own words. You feel the tell-tale throbs in his cock, you feel the way his hands grip the flesh of your hips, and your walls closing around him.

“Ji- baby, look at me, look me in the eyes-” it's afternoon already. He lifts properly, both hands on the sides of your head. Jisung looks you in the eyes. Jisung, he tells you that he loves you repeatedly as he feels his high so close he thinks he's going to pass out. Your pussy sucks him in whenever he retracts his cock, he hears the change in your voice. You'll go on a walk together tonight.

He does as you asked, never closes his eyelids. He's like a god falling apart, stilling into you, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. It's him, it's his expression that makes you arch your back, it's him greedily covering every millimeter of skin he sees with his wet lips, it's his praise, his “baby”, his cum deep inside you. You exist. In that moment you're sure you exist because Jisung breathes life into you, because when you come for him he circles your clit and smiles. You die and then you're alive again.

Jisung stays there for a while, he keeps smiling, teeth grazing your chest and collar bones as you both start to giggle. You feel the ache again and it's comforting.

"I don't care about dying, angel. I mean, I don't want to, but… it's okay because I already knew happiness, you know?” he closes his eyes.

It's a hot day of May and few butterflies appear to do their dance in the air. It's a hot day of May and you discuss about life and death like it's nothing, like you talk about the weather. It's a hot day of May and it's easy to love, to exist, to accept the end of existence. It's just a day like the others, and that's beautiful.

“I know.” your reply comes before a sigh. You'll have to say goodbye to coffee and think about lunch. “You have to tell your mom I need her kimchi recipe, okay?”

a.n.

life is beautiful, please live it to its fullest and enjoy every moment, even if it brings pain, even if it seems dark, please cherish it. life is beautiful and you deserve to think so. I love you, take care of yourself.

[forsaire]

I turned talking about video game inaccuracies into something sickeningly sweet. Enjoy 😊 @crunchybeards

---

“Johnny, what are you doing? I’ve been waiting-”

But Ghost abruptly stopped talking as he rounded the corner.

Sitting on the couch with his body intensely leaning forward and his eyes squinted in focused determination that Ghost was familiar with seeing when they were on a mission – or when trying to cook – was Soap. The controller in his hands looked small compared to him and the light from the television flickered across his face.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asked.

“Just playing a shooter that one of the recruits gave me,” Soap replied, his eyes zipping across the screen.

Ghost glanced up to see bodies clad in camo military gear running forward towards a diamond point in the distance, Soap’s character following behind them. A flurry of gunshots rang out and the right side of his screen was splattered with streaking red. The character quickly slid to duck behind cover and look through the scope of their sniper rifle.

“You don’t get enough of this in real life?” Ghost asked, crossing his arms. Soap then cursed under his breath and shifted forward. “Evidently not.”

Ghost turned his attention back to the screen. The outline of the gun in the corner had a name, though from Ghost’s memory, it was the shadow of a completely different gun. The magazine size was odd too and when Soap looked into the scope again, there was something a bit off about the lines. He listened for a moment as the characters spoke out to each other – granted it was an American game – but the acronyms were also not familiar.

“It doesn’t bother you how inaccurate all these games are?” Ghost asked. “I understand the 18 year old civilian not giving a shite, but you at least know better. When are you coming to bed?”

Soap shrugged. “I don’t think about it much. Half of the time they’re talking bullocks but I don’t pay attention to the story. I’m just here to…got ya! Blow off a couple heads. They explode much nicer than in real life. Tons of ammo. A dog companion. Enemies showing up on the map. What more could you want?”

“Reality.”

Soap scoffed. “You need to make a more compelling argument.”

Ghost walked behind the couch. “You know what else the real world has?” He gently took Soap’s head in his hands and tilted it backwards, capturing Soap’s lips as he let out a surprised huff. But only a second later, Soap closed his eyes and leaned into it, his hand reaching up to grab at Ghost’s hair. Ghost pulled back ever so slightly, enamored by Soap’s shining blue eyes and pink lips. “Me.” He ran a hand down Soap’s throat. “Now come to bed.”

A loud grunt pulled both of their attentions back to the screen and a bloody game over wiped across the television. Soap sighed.

“You killed me.”

“If you don’t get in bed with me right now, I’ll kill you for real.”

The smallest, amused smirk pulled at Soap’s lips.

“Yes, sir.”

With two hands that easily linked back up with one another again, Ghost and Soap headed back to their room, Ghost ready to show Soap just how good reality could be.

[on-leatheredwings]

Secret Admirer

Yandere! Dick Grayson / Yandere! Green Lantern! Gender Neutral Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: yandere behaviors. Kissing. Heavy petting. > rated M > summary: You should stop playing with fire. Because when you do, you make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And Dick’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. > a/n: wow nothing truly despicable in this one i’m so vanilla now <3 the reader is male to me but feel free to imagine what you want. I rlly like writing pre-yandere + pre-relationship stuff, it’s so fun . may write more for actual smut possibilities > word count: 1472

Newly-acquired powers or not, you are really poking the bear here. 

Dick has known you've been following him since yesterday. He allowed it because who was he if not a performer? He thrived on attention, and especially yours. But today, you had gotten too close to a fight. Sure, you had stayed an appropriate distance away, but the fact it had happened at all was worrying. It made him distracted. Distracted enough that he wasn’t pulling his punches on criminals like usual. 

“Now that it’s getting quite late–” he begins, to which you audibly gasp. An adorable sound. “–how about you finally come out and let me help you?”

He turns around to a swath of darkness that paints the rooftop’s entry door in black shadow.

Behind the corner, you curse. Damn it, he caught you. … Well, you could’ve told yourself this would happen. Dick, the fine friend he was, surely said it would. No one really ‘sneaks up’ on one of the Bats. And definitely not Nightwing, the most tenured of them all aside Batman himself.

You got caught, and lord knows what Nightwing will do to you. You bite your lips, mind running wild. Who knows what Nightwing will do to you, indeed? You feel a pang of arousal at the thought. 

You step out of the shadows, trying to act natural. Nightwing’s eyes lock onto your humble form, and you find yourself warming over every inch of your body. You want him bad.

His body stiffens, for reasons you can’t discern. It doesn’t seem like hostility… you think?

You adjust your domino mask, cursing silently that the adhesive is finally starting to give after a long night of following him around. Stealth isn’t really a natural gift for a Green Lantern, either. Turning down your glow while using your powers to maintain soundless stalking was hard. Harder than expected. 

“What are you doing here?”

You smile, hoping your giddy expression is hidden by the hoodie you’ve chosen to wear on your escapade. 

It certainly is not, which makes Dick pleased.

Now that you've made contact with him, his first thought is that he ought to tell Batman about this. And the rest of the team, while he’s at it. Dick Grayson knows that Nightwing is your 'celebrity' crush, and that you're enamored with the rest of the Bat Family. What if you confronted them someday as well?

On the Batcomputer is a file on John Stewart, complete a footnote that is you. Said footnote has graduated to its own page, now that you have your own hero exploits to document. They'd be less welcoming and more wary of a hero on their turf. He has to protect you.

“I… I…” you croak, tongue heavy with anxiety. You can’t help but be nervous. 

“Sometime tonight?” he teases. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurt.

He is taken aback, before he recollects his wits. 

“I really like you,” you say again, stepping forward. He lifts his hand in warning. Stay back. You get chills, but don’t stop treading forward. You can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath his mask.

When he’s finally in arms’ reach, you are pushed against the wall. And not roughly at all, you notice. You smile with delight, your hands immediately landing on his shoulders. Nightwing’s glare doesn’t feel hostile at all. Suspicious, maybe. But not hostile.

“... What do you mean by, you “really” like me?” You suspected that he probably wouldn’t believe you.

“Well,” you fluster, “I mean that I really like you.” Dick’s heart jolts. “And I want you.” It nearly flatlines.

Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, Dick thinks, despite the elation that begins to tighten his throat. You? Want him? If he had known all he needed to do to grab your attention was put on the suit, he would’ve done that ages ago. He felt nearly invisible to you during the day, all his flirtation falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.

At Nightwing’s silence, you lick your lips. An action that makes his eyes dilate behind his mask. 

“I-I’m serious!”

Nightwing leans in closer, as if inspecting the truth in your expression, raking over every atom. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathes.

“It’s not a game at all to me,” you say, feeling lightheaded from the small distance between you two. This doesn't feel real.

To love and be loved is all you’ve ever wanted. You’d think that would give you the violet ring of Love. Instead, the ring that had appeared in your hand one fateful night was acid green, sparkling and mesmerizing. Apparently, instead of embodying love, you simply were driven enough to seek it at any costs. Driven enough to never be alone ever again.

You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, it said. You had taken it without hesitation.

“Kiss me,” you say, hands rising to cup his jaw. As if he’s not already leaning in.

Your lips meet in an unabashed frenzy. You’re nearly blown away by the pure amount of feeling in his kiss – that's quite a lot of emotion for a stranger. Not that you aren’t equally impassioned. You feel so raw and naked, kissing him. You hope he can't feel all your insanity, your obsession, your infatuation.

However, Dick certainly does, so much that he moans openly, the sound making both your lips buzz.

You make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And he’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. 

You shudder, feeling the pressure of his cup press in between your thighs. God, you wished you could feel the real thing. Your hand slips in between you two, tracing the lines of his abs. Dick shivers. He peels off your domino mask, but you don’t even flinch. You don’t care if he knows who you are. You want him to know everything. Inside and out.

Your eyes flutter open as you gyrate against his hips, sinful and frustrating. You peer up at him, cheeks blazing. You want him.

He looks into your eyes, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wants to swallow you whole. He wants to map every inch of your body. His cock is painfully straining against his suit. You are not a want, but a need.

But Dick is trying to be good, he really is. The night’s not over. He’s still on patrol, technically. You may want Nightwing, but do you want Dick Grayson? If he fucked you on this rooftop, throwing restraint into the wind, would that be taking advantage of you? Do you just hero worship him? All the questions fly through his mind at rapid speed, and he wants them to quiet, before the Angry Orphan inside him decides to just stop caring completely. 

But he… he’s strong. We don't have to be, his mind interjects, screaming at him. But he quiets it. He whimpers at the tightness against his groin, a sound that makes you look at him curiously. You are completely blissfully ignorant to his inner strife. Completely innocent.

Dick narrows his eyes, channeling his best Batman impression.

“You should go home.”

You balk almost comically. “W-wait.” Nightwing retreats, but not before you can grab his wrist. “At least– at least, can we go on a date? Or even hang out? Or–” His thumb traces the curve of your lips, silencing you with a shiver.  

“Go home.” Firmly said, yet gentle.

You frown, though it’s more like a pout. Man, you’re cute, he thinks. “When can I see you again?”

Dick certainly isn’t strong enough to be responsible and say “You can’t.” 

So Nightwing just stares at you, looking… hesitant. The pieces click in your mind. Ah, so he liked it. Your lips curl, like a cat with cream. You take that as a victory.

“... I-I’ll come back tomorrow night,” you state boldly, stealing a chaste kiss before he could argue. Dick has to basically pull himself away, despite his desire to keep your bodies flush and perfectly fitted against one another.

You slip your ring onto your finger, and your entire body glows, rampant with Lantern light. You begin to float.

“Tomorrow!” you blurt, already wanting him again. You zip away, flying home. All the while, you slap at your warm cheeks, trying to see if this is a dream, laughing with glee, mind going haywire with heated fantasies. You kissed Nightwing. You basically groped him. And he didn’t stop you. Oh god, wait until you tell Dick. 

The confrontation went better than expected. At worst, you figured Nightwing would shoo you away, reject you. Despite the abrupt ending, he at least seemed… interested? You try not to dwell on it too much. It doesn’t matter.

You’re a Green Lantern. You’re powerful. Willful. He will be yours, someday.

[muntitled]

more dom!hazel would be so appreciated if u can hehe 🫶🫶

+ another anon who asked for a cleaning bruises fic

𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 & 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Summary: "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?"

Warnings: Established Relationship, Hyper feminine!Reader, PJ as her own warning, Mentions of Bruises, Mentions of Violence, Cleaning Hazel's bruises, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Fighting Kink?, Fingering, Dom!Hazel, Sub!Reader, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Overstimulation

Can be seen as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

Your afternoon had been almost perfect, with Hazel nestled between your open legs just a step lower on the school bleachers. Her head had been thrown back, with her curls running rampant against your skin and tickling your chest. You smoothed her hair down in vain intervals while she played with a loose string on the stitiching of your plaid skirt as she droned on and on about the unlikelihood of being enlisted as a bomb tech by the US Army.

"I don't really know where else I could use my particular set of expertise. What else could I do that won't ultimately lead me down the path of... you know, treason and terrorism?" You nod vaguely as Hazel continues her equal parts aloof and equal parts worrying rants. All while combining your fingers through her hair, "I mean, I just feel like World War III is probably upon us, you know-"

"Ugh, could you guys get a room?" You had been so enamored by Hazel's ranting that you failed to notice PJ at first. Her and Josie made their slow ascent on the bleachers until their shadows blocked your afternoon sun.

"Could you get a girlfriend?" The words had snipped off your tongue with harsh vexation as you instinctively cradled Hazel closer to your chest.

"Jesus-" Hazel had muttered, as she craned her neck up to stare at PJ and a disgruntled Josie, "Why are you trying to hijack my boob time?"

You had to reign in all murderous intentions as PJ grabbed hold of Hazel's forearms and forcibly dragged her up off the bleachers… out of your arms.

"You don't get boob time until we all get boob time. And need I remind you that you're going to be late for Fight Club," You heaved a very loud, very obnoxious sigh as you tilted your head backwards, letting the rays bounce off your pink sunglasses, "You guys should seriously get a room." Said PJ, "Stop giving the entire football team a show. Come on, you're setting us back like 69 years-"

Before PJ sunk her claws into Hazel completely, she bent down until her lips pressed against your cheek, and she whispered, "I'll see you back at my place, yeah?"

Your heart deflated at her confirmation that she was indeed leaving you for Fight Club, "Hazel..."

"Shh, shut up. Just say yes,"

But before you could wrack your brain for something coherent to say, PJ had already begun to make her descent off the bleachers, taking your girlfriend along with her.

You did not hate PJ, nor were you her biggest fan at the best of times. However, nights like tonight made your vexation grow to unimaginable heights simply because PJ is completely and utterly inescapable.

This evening, however, waiting for Hazel to get back from Figh Club, had been perfect. Etta James had been oozing through The Callahan's home speakers as you prepared the butternut soup- Hazel's favourite Post Fight Club recovery meal (although she hated admitting it, because she did not want to put you out of your way).

You are perfectly content, trapped in your web of make-believe as you prance around Hazel's kitchen, assembling your respective bowls needed for the soup. Mrs Callahan had let you in, as she always did after school, with a dismissive wave while she babbled into the receiver of her iPhone. Before she completely disappeared into the innards of her sprawling house, Mrs Callahan vaguely threw over her shoulder "Hazel is at her thing until 5 but I'm sure you've been made aware," and you were left in this great big labyrinth to entertain yourself.

Sex had been even more seldom, given that Hazel was rarely ever in any shape to commence any form of coitus due to the various bruises popping up in unlikely places. You wish you can safely tell yourself you despised seeing her bloody and battered state - that you gain absolutely nothing from Fight Club and that you most likely never will.

But you're staring dreamily into the pot of soup, and you're stirring and stirring, with your heart racing in anticipation of Hazel's inevitable return with her inevitable bruises smeared across her perfect little face.

You had not planned on cooking for anyone because seducing Hazel in her inevitably bloodied state was on the forefront of your mind, and Mrs Callahan had a very tempting bright pink apron hanging on the hook.

So perhaps you did do this all for her.

Perhaps you were waiting for her, to stride on through the foyer, nursing a streak of dried blood down her nose, eager to catch her reaction at seeing you so comfortable in her space while you rushed to swoop in and fawn over her.

This near perfect daydream might have actually manifested…

Were it not for PJ's loud and obnoxious voice bleeding into the kitchen from the foyer, accompanied by the heavy groan of the front door slamming shut. Your shoulders visibly sag as you empty the rest of the soup into your bowl just as the trio rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Oh my God - soup!" PJ exclaimed rushing towards you with her gaze zeroed in on the bowl locked firmly in your hand. You had been so focused on keeping the bowl from PJ's incessant grabby hands that you failed to see the dazed, almost breathless look that sprinkled over Hazel's face who drifted slowly behind Josie despite this being her house.

Suddenly, every thought about the impending bruise she was facing due to not dodging a right hook earlier vanished from her mind like doves in the wind. Hazel's head was completely flooded with the image of you, in her kitchen, with your cute as fuck little skirt grazing just above your knee.

This almost did not feel real. Less than a month ago, no one barely blinked in her direction, but now...

So enamored was Hazel by your act of service, she nearly failed to catch PJ's innate need to flirt whenever you were in the vicinity.

"You look hot by the way," PJ had slyly said, still reaching for the bowl of steaming soup, which you only drew higher above your head.

"Sorry PJ, only people who make me cum get to eat my cooking."

"Is that an invitation?" She asked, leaning against the counter, "That sounded like an invitation."

Hazel cleared her throat, finally succeeding in having your eyes wash over her. "Can we probably not talk about you fucking my girlfriend, maybe, I think?" She said cooly, discarding her bag somewhere on the floor before making her up closer towards you. Her slouch was even more prominent and you swear the air in your lungs thinned as she brushed up beside you and muttered, "Hey,"

"Hey yourself." And Hazel's tummy instantly warmed as you discarded the bowl on the counter, turning to cup her cheeks in your hands as you observed her latest shiners acquired from Fight Club. Something sinister flashed through Hazel's mind as your big dark eyes scanned over her visage, eyeing the new bruise splotched across her eye and the horizontal laceration on her cheek.

"It doesn't hurt," She can barely find her words under the overwhelming feeling of your care and attention. Your scent is all encompassing, and before she ever allows for anymore of her arousal to stain her boxers Hazel attempts to draw her face out of your palm.

"Jesus, Hazel!" You squeal, pulling her head down closer to your height, until Hazel has to support herself with a hand on the counter behind you, "Please don't tell me you were sparring with anyone on the football team again!"

You hoped you succeeded in masking how turned on that thought actually got you...

Hazel's voice is deep and low as she replies,

"Jeff said that if I can at least dodge his left, left, right hook next time, I could probably be ready for the whole team." You breathe out and airy laugh almost the same time as her, the both of you silently aware of what the other was doing.

"Ugh, you're such a virgin." PJ mutters under a mouthful of soup.

"I literally have a girlfriend," Hazel mutters without looking away. Her gaze was nearly trapped in yours as she allowed you to pull her limp body away from PJ and Josie. "Come on, I need to clean you up."

And that's how you had found yourself, cross-legged on Hazel's bed with her leaning against the headboard like your Oh so compliant little patient. Her gaze is yet to waver from yours, in fact, cleaning the laceration had been utter hell, right up until this point because Hazel had taken to drawing various circles against the skin of your exposed thigh.

The skirt had ridden up marginally from your seating position, and Hazel seems perfectly fine toying with your various emotions.

"You look really pretty," Hazel breathed out as if those words were sitting heavily on her heart ever since you applied the wet gauze against her left cheek. You try to hold your composure, keeping a firm eye on the dressing of Hazel's wound as you say, "I don't really think I want you going to fight club anymore,"

"Tch'yeah okay," she snickers dismissively, "Hey, is this skirt new? It's hot- like 'gay 50s housewife' kinda hot," There's an edge to her voice that has Hazel sitting taller against the headboard before incriminatingly letting her hands drift just a little higher on your thigh. Your breathing becomes heavier as you fight hard to maintain your crumbling composure.

"I'm serious, Hazel," you had begun to whisper. Why had you begun to whisper?

"I don't wanna have to stitch you up every time-"

As soon as the gauze was plastered onto her cheek, Hazel's head was already melting into your chest, nuzzling at your open cleavage exposed by your Pastel v-neck as she says, "God, I love it when you mommy me,"

"H-Hazel," any warning you tried to inject into your tone gets fizzled out by the embarrassing moan that escaped your lips as Hazel's teeth dragged lightly against the skin of your chest. Her hands were restless, as if she was testing herself as to how far she'd allow herself to go so quickly.

You suck in so much air as Hazel's palm cradles the inside of your thigh and because you're cross legged, closing your legs is nearly impossible. "Fuck, I'm so turned on, right now," her voice cracks as she brings her face up from your boobs. Pressing a hand to your cheek, she tries and fails to bring your lips towards hers.

Hazel frowns as you say,

"You think it makes me feel good seeing you like this?"

You ignore the budding voice in your head echoing the loud and very obnoxious 'yes, yes you do like seeing her like this. You like seeing that reckless smile blossom onto her cracked and battered face. It gets you wet and you know it does-'

But your voice is full of fragile conviction as you say, "You think I like seeing my girlfriend beaten up everyday of the week?"

Hazel blinks once before she succinctly replies, "If I put my hands up your skirt right now, am I gonna find you wet?" An entire desert ecosystem is suddenly born inside your mouth, and you swallow thickly as your eyes evade Hazel's uncomplicated, piercing gaze. She tilts her head, smiles gone, simply waiting for your response.

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" She asks before steadily closing the distance between you once more. Only, you're so terrified of being caught out, so utterly embarrassed at the thought of her finding out about the pool of wetness that had begun soaking completely through your panties, that you back away the closer she gets. Your slinking backwards only allows Hazel to crawl closer until she's hovering above you in the centre of her bed.

You have her undivided attention, and she has yours. Your eyes recklessly scans her face, every cut, laceration, and every old bruise buried under a new one has your lips turning downward as a small, almost imperceptible whimper forces itself out of your throat.

"There she is…" Hazel whispers with a palm cradling your cheek, "There's my needy little girl," You're quickly slipping into subspace right in front of her and Hazel is more than grateful. A single silver pendant dangles from her throat as she dips down, finally connecting your lips in a quietly passionate kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut, and so does hers. The both of you are utterly enamored by the sheer lust communicated by the intensity of the kiss alone.

"Fuck," Hazel curses, momentarily breaking apart to peel off her oversized graphic tee. You're watching your girlfriend in her sports bra with unbridled lust shining heavily on your pouty lips.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She says, "Please, Baby."

You're slipping deeper and deeper but you still have half a mind to lightly whisper, "Hazel, they're right downstairs-" She's already crashing her lips back down onto yours.

"Tell me you're wet for me," She murmurs against your lips, never being able to stray too far.

The hand that isn't holding her up, hovering above you, is once again, underneath your skirts, only this time, the tips of her fingers are dragging up against your inner thigh with no chance of stopping.

"Fuck, Hazel,"

"Is that supposed to be an answer?"

You're already pulling your own hips off the bed, seeking her hand out like a whore as you break the kiss only to whimper, "Yes, okay, fine! I'm so wet for you, Hazel- just, please!"

She watches completely fargone as you let your soaked panties meet her awaiting palm. Watching you grind yourself against her hand has Hazel's mind absolutely descending into lust.

"God, you're so beautiful," she says, before finally pressing her own hand against your soaked panties. She rubs in harsh, rough circles, eager to bring you to the very edge of insanity. She needed to see you fall apart for her again and again-

"Inside," You whisper, watching your girlfriend rub your cunt with bated breath. You're still wearing your skirt but you figure Hazel needs to fuck you in it to fulfil some sort of fantasy and you don't entirely mind. Not at all.

"Hazel, Please. I need you inside-"

"Fuck- you're such a slut-"

Your head immediately falls back against the bed as Hazel's movements against your soaked panties increases.

"You like it when I call you a slut, baby?" Your hips stutter upwards in vague response as you moan loudly into the air.

"Fuck- Hazel, I'm close- I'm so fucking- fuck," the orgasm sneaks up on you like a villain in the night and you're spamming underneath her, while Hazel continues to rub your cunt through the torrid sensation. Before you've ever even come down from your high, there's a knock on the door, and look towards it with slightly parted lips and blurry vision.

"Hey- you have no more soup, and I think you two are fucking in there so Josie and I are just gonna g-"

"Fuck off, PJ!" Hazel screams at the door, failing to hear the small little 'Okay, rude' before she's lifting your skirt until they're pooling at your hips.

"Hazel, what're you-"

"Another one, okay?" She nods encouragingly before shifting your panties aside and pressing the colds tips of her forefinger and middle finger against your soaked cunt. "You're going to give me another one. I wanna see if I can do it."

You can't even roll your eyes at her unnecessary display of pride because your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as she drags the essence of your arousal along your clit. "Fuck, you look so hot-"

"H-Hazel," the aftershocks from your previous orgasm rack through your upper body just as the oncoming tempest of lust gears you up for the next one. Hazel leans over you once more as she continues to rub at your clit, "Just one more, baby, I know you can do it. Show me, baby." It's downright evil, the effect her manipulation has on your body as you descend further and further into your lust.

"Look at how perfect you look," she says with a voice thick with lechery, "Fuck, you get me so wet to, baby," she murmurs before instinctive pressing her lips to yours once again, as if something nestled in her being, craved the touch of your lips against hers.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Fuck- Hazel-"

"I'm right here, angel," she whispers, before bringing the tips of her fingers to your opening. Hazel is quick to slide her index and middle finger into your pussy until she's fucking you hard and deep. It takes a few short pumps for you to clutch mindlessly at her forearms with your vision slightly waning as you look up at your smiling girlfriend who watches you descend into your orgasm.

"That's it," she coos as you clench around her fingers, "You're doing so well for me, baby,"

"F-Fuck!" You stutter out as you fall into the depths of euphoria. Your mind is flooded with nothing but Hazel, all thoughts previously plaguing your brain is made null and void. In the end, you're just a beacon for her to release her frustrations out on. Even if it means overstimulating you until you become a noisy, helpless mess.

For a while, each other's heavy breathing is all you hear.

That is, until you hear a loud bump against Hazel's closed door, drawing both your attention.

"PJ-" whispers Josie with unimaginable frustration.

"Oh my God, they're definitely fucking-"

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Sebek Zigvolt - Nightmare Suit Voice Lines

Halloween, eh... I've got this handled. I'll show everyone a very special fright! (Zero: Bark!)

Summon: This is Halloween! I'll teach you how truly terrifying Halloween can be.

Groovification: Here we go! Time to give everyone a taste of a completely new form of absolute terror. (Zero: Bark, bark!)

Home: I worry this will fray...

Swap Looks: Zero, are you coming along with me? (Zero: Bark, bark!)

Home Transition 1: I saw Leona-senpai taking a nap while surrounded by some undersea-creatures... He must have nerves of steel...

Home Transition 2: I passed by one of the townsfolk whose features resembled that of a bat... I feel as though they resemble one of the Thorn Fairy's men that I once saw in a painting.

Home Transition 3: Despite our strange predicament, Jade-senpai seems to be in high spirits... Is Octavinelle truly well with him as Vice Housewarden?

Home Transition - Login 1: Hey, don't let your guard down one bit! From under the bed, to the shadow cast by the doors... You never know where some strange creature might be lurking.

Home Transition - Login 2 (Swap Looks): Hey! Stop clinging to me, you ghost... Uh, dog...? Hmm. I guess I should just call you Zero, after all. (Zero: Bark, bark bark!)

Home Transition - Groovy: There cannot be a Halloween without candy! We require brainpower in order to think up ways to be frightening. Obviously, we need to keep our sugar levels high.

Home Tap 1: I never thought I'd ever be wearing something so stitched and patched up like this... In any ordinary situation, I would have disposed of such clothing before it became this shoddy!

Home Tap 2: I thought Sally was a mere rag doll, but it seems she actually has more of a spine than I thought. I misjudged her!

Home Tap 3: Jack may rule over Halloween, but he behaves in such a frivolous manner! A king ought to be dignified, powerful ruler over their people.

Home Tap 4: Skully is just overwhelmingly enamored by Jack and his fellows... I'm getting increasingly exasperated every single time he raves on and on about his adoration.

Home Tap 5: Aah! ...Oh, it's just you. Don't scare me like that. Just a moment ago, one of the townsfolk jumped out of a trashcan when I tried to open it... This is no good for my poor heart!!

Home Tap - Groovy: This truly is a strange town. For better or for worse, it looks as though there will be many memorable moments here.

DUO: [SEBEK]: Jade-senpai, I have no need for your assistance! [JADE]: I'll simply cheer you on, Sebek-kun.

Requested by Anonymous.

[captain-hawks]

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

say it

summary: If you don't call him Tetsurou while you're having sex, you can still pretend this thing between you and Kuroo is casual, right? (Wrong.)

word count: 1.3k

content: Nekoma University!Kuroo, NSFW, 18+, smut, friends with benefits to lovers speed run, name kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, oral sex, this was going to be PWP but the feels said no

Be it on the court or off, there’s something to be said about Tetsurou Kuroo’s timing.

It’s how you found yourself so enamored by him in the first place, after all. Months ago, when your friends drug you along to your university's enormous gymnasium to watch the men’s volleyball team play a practice match with a local rival between classes, you didn’t think you knew enough about the sport to drum up much interest from your unassuming place in the back of the stands—until your eyes landed on a tall, loud player with the number ‘1’ adorned across his red jersey.

But it wasn’t just his height or the way he ceaselessly commanded Nekoma’s side of the court that kept your rapt attention, it was the way he moved. 

Tetsurou Kuroo—a name you caught your friends whispering after he scored a point that had the gathered crowd roaring in excitement—had a mesmerizing knack for timing his movements to make the most of each and every square inch of the court. 

And you?

You may have known shit all about volleyball, but fuck if just watching him didn’t set your heart racing. 

Sometimes you can’t help but laugh at the irony—the way Kuroo collided with you in a busy hallway days later, setting off a dangerously flirtatious chain of events that would eventually find the two of you tangled in his sheets, naked and sated and gasping for air. 

It was casual then; you went into this arrangement under no false pretenses. 

And...it’s still casual now, despite the fact that you know beyond a shadow of doubt that neither of you is fucking anyone else.

Despite the fact that you wake up in Kuroo’s bed more often than your own, to the point where rolling over in the morning to inhale the scent of your own laundry detergent on the pillowcase beside you feels almost wrong now.

Despite the fact that at one point or another, he suddenly made a habit of calling you after every one his away matches—just to talk, just to say goodnight. 

Despite the fact that, somewhere along the way, he started kissing you more softly. There are still hurried, frantic kisses, ones full of hunger and lust that leave your lips swollen and your thighs clenching with need, your entire body arching into his touch like a moth to a flame. But now, there are kisses without an agenda. Kisses with no beginning, middle, nor end. 

Just Kuroo’s mouth slotted against yours, a callused thumb brushing gently along the curve of your jaw.

But it’s casual, even if there’s a dull, quiet ache in your chest that protests otherwise each time his hands settle on your waist. 

And the completely, utterly, inarguably casual nature of your relationship is why you find yourself choking down the words you really want to say as Kuroo’s fingers curl inside of you right now, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you swallow down something that’s far too intimate for what this really is.

Tetsurou.

Tetsurou.

Tetsurou.

His given name is always caught in your throat at times like this, yearning to climb up your tongue and burst out through your teeth. 

Your name leaves his lips effortlessly, like it’s as easy as breathing. Like he hardly has to think twice. And the way his deep voice traverses each letter now, his lips slick with your arousal as he firmly slides his tongue over your clit? It drags down your spine with a white-hot, iron grip. 

It’s casual.

It’s fucking casual.

Your limbs are still trembling from the force of your first orgasm when he begins to ease his length into your entrance, your wet cunt welcoming the thick, familiar stretch of his cock. 

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that the exclusivity of your casual arrangement somehow led to this—no condom separating your tight, drenched walls from the leaking, pulsing need of his shaft.)

(And yet you still can’t fucking say it when you're like this with him, naked and vulnerable and wanting.)

(Tetsurou.)

(Tetsurou.)

Deep down, you know it’s because you’re scared.

You’re scared because he hasn’t mentioned the way you dance around it during sex. You’ve convinced yourself that despite how absolutely not casual this whole goddamn situation has become, the intimacy of using his name now is what will break the fragile glass of this façade you’ve both built. He’ll realize you’ve both grown too comfortable, too attached, roots burrowed and trapped beneath concrete. 

He’ll pluck you from his life like a hapless dandelion that’s sprouted between the unforgiving cracks in the sidewalk.

So even though his name is like a mantra in your mind as he cradles the side of your face, his hazel eyes trained on yours, black hair sticking up in every direction from the way you’d carded your fingers through it while his tongue was buried inside of you, you don’t say it.

“Kuroo,” you exhale as he drags his teeth down the side of your neck, mouthing at your collarbone while he rocks his hips into yours.

“Kuroo,” you gasp, while he rolls your pebbled nipples between his fingers and drives his cock into you so deeply you see stars.

“Kuroo,” you whimper, when his forehead falls against yours as his thrusts begin to grow sloppy.

And ever a man known for his timing, it’s then that Kuroo says it, with your sweat-slicked body writhing beneath his, voices hoarse and raw, your fingers digging into his back. 

“Tetsurou,” he breathes out, chest heaving against your own.

It catches you so off guard that all you can do is stare up at him in confusion, lips parted as his eyes search yours.

“Say it,” he implores, voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Please, say it.”

Warmth unravels in your chest like a sail catching in the wind, the insistence of your rapidly beating heart rattling against your ribcage. Kuroo’s nose brushes against your cheek before his mouth ghosts over your own, the beat of silence that stretches between you a yawning precipice.

“Tetsurou,” you finally whisper, a hot, wet tear sliding down your cheek. 

The mattress groans in protest as the world beneath you shifts, Kuroo swiftly tugging you upward into his lap. His lips chase the wet trail to the edge of your jaw while your legs curl around his waist, a jolt of pleasure searing through you as his cock slips even deeper inside of you.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, wrapping one strong arm around your body while the other cradles the back of your head. And with his chest pressed to yours, you can feel it—the way his own shuddering heart responds in kind. 

“Tetsurou.”

His breathing becomes ragged as he begins to fuck you with fervor, each pounding thrust upward punctuated by the sound of you crying out his name.

“Tetsurou.”

“Tetsurou.”

“TETSUROU!”

Your vision goes white as his dexterous fingers find their way back to your throbbing clit, massaging the pulsing, aching bundle of nerves while he swallows down your unabashed, sobbing moans, uncertain if you’re still screaming his name or just making unintelligible noises at this point. A heady, dizzying wave of pleasure pulls you under just as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt, the choking squeeze of your fluttering walls milking ropes of thick, hot cum from his cock and filling you to the brim.

He holds you tight as your breathing evens out and your shuddering limbs still, softening cock nestled snugly in the heat between your thighs, cum beginning to seep out and onto the sheets below. A hand caresses the side of your neck, fingertips grazing your ear as you lift your head from where it’s buried against the crook of his shoulder to find him looking at you with so much unabashed affection, your chest aches.

And your lips have only begun to form the shape of Tetsurou’s name once more when his mouth crashes back into yours.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[desigemini24]

AN- Another preference guys!!! Also, I have an angsty Daemon oneshot based on Tere Liye song in my drafts...

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preference

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark & Criston Cole

Warnings- Westrosi Shenanigans

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are an honorable lady of one of the Great Houses of Westeros. And after Lady Rhea Royce dies mysteriously, your father plotted to marry you into a marriage with the Rogue Prince.

You had met him a few times earlier, and you were less than impressed with his... antics.

You swore you would have ran if you weren't devoted to your father and his life's work in order to make a beautiful legacy for your family (sounds Lannister-ish).

You had controlled the urge to laugh during the entirety of the feast hosted to honour your betrothal with the prince.

Daemon's face resembled that of a pouty kid who was denied something he needed. While on the other hand, Viserys was gleaming with happiness as he congratulated the "beautiful pair".

The wedding was lavish, much to both your and your husband's dismay. And while you covered your dismay with grace; his remained bad.

He was partially dragged to the sept by his brother.

Marriage with him can go two ways.

Either you become another bronze bitch for him.

Or you impress him with your charms and he ends up being completely enamored by you.

If you try to reject his advances; he will never quit making them.

And when you accept his devotion, he will be the happiest man in Westeros.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

He marries you on his mother's demand.

Very formal and stoic. Will reward you with only a hand on your back in extreme situations.

Aegon teasing him about the upcoming bedding after your wedding.

Also offering you an opportunity to approach him if Aemond doesn't suffices you.

"My lady, you know where to find me if my brother can't suffice your womanly desires in bed."

You in reply, had smiled sarcastically and said, "it won't be required."

The boy's ego was wounded.

While Aemond was downright impressed by your courage.

It starts slow with him.

And takes a loooooong while before he shows you his left eye; bared of the eyepatch he wears.

You had a hard start; worse than that of possible.

But he starts seeing you as family after Helaena softens up with you and you spend time with his niece and nephew. Alicent also likes you.

He would never compliment you directly or profess his love in words. But his actions speak louder than anything else.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

You are his second wife. And not really a recipient of his love and care.

Purely political marriage with both your and his house benefiting in some way; all while you were being prepared to be a man's second wife.

You learnt quickly how you shall always been seen as a shadow of his wife. And you were actually happy with it.

Both of you shall perform your duties to one another, but that would be it.

No speaking until necessary.

His children not liking you at first; but once you start to open up with them, they come to tolerate your presence.

The first real conversation you two have is after you find Alicent crying in her room, reminiscing the happy family they used to be before her mother perished.

You had barged into his office, demanding to know when was the last time he spoke to his daughter.

And you fought for hours. Until you broke down into tears as your patience ran thin.

"YOU DO NOT CARE OF ANYONE AROUND YOU, BUT YOURSELF! Not Alicent, not your sons, not the king... not me."

He saw you in new light that day. Someone who was ready to fight for his family.

And he starts engaging you in conversations at feast.

And honestly, you like it. Being noticed by your husband who only saw you as a trophy before.

Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Your father was the most important merchant in Essos; and you were his precious little daughter.

You met Corlys for the first time after his negotiations with your father.

When your father tells you that you shall be married to the Sea Snake to assure the new alliance’s birth and growth.

You were extremely angry. And hurt.

Your marriage to him was anything but modest; and took place in Driftmark.

You could feel the unease radiating off the lords and the King as they congratulated you and your new husband.

Unfortunate for you, your father skipped the part of him being a widower and having kids close to your age.

And you were furious. Very. Very. Furious.

You kicked and screamed; creating a scene behind the closed doors while your new family and your family was present.

Tensed with anger and disappointment burning deep in your chest, you find yourself roaming the beach as the sun raced towards the horizon.

You hadn't expected the man, your new husband, to come for you. But he did.

And you talked, deciding a few terms for easy marriage life.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

You were from the West; betrothed to him after his first wife passes during childbirth, leaving him with a son, alone.

And so, your father decides that you should become his second wife and mother to his barely a year old son.

Your betrothal is officiated on letters. No formal meeting. No courting.

You were sent to the North before a fortnight from your wedding.

You arrived to be greeted by Sara Snow, since you cannot see Cregan before your wedding, as per traditions.

You have a wedding in the customs of North.

And then a smaller wedding with only close people around in the small Sept in Winterfell, where you are wedded in your traditions.

The feast following was loud and warm with wine flowing the cups and fire blazing in the backdrop.

When you were asked to share your first dance as a couple, your very first dance anyway; you hesitated as you accompanied him.

But everything went very very smoothly.

And then was the time of bedding ceremony. And Gods! Were you overjoyed when Cregan defended your honor and downright canceled the ceremony.

"Anyone who shall dare touch my bride shall spend his life without any further children. I and my wife are perfectly able to find our way to our chambers."

That night, there was no bedding. But you spent the time conversing while Rickon Stark slept against your bosom, peacefully.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

Since he is the part of King's Guard, he can't marry anyone. But after he takes on the position of Hand of the King to King Aegon II and Prince Regent Aemond, that's a different story.

He arrives at your father's holdstead with a handwritten letter from the Queen Dowager Alicent, asking for your father's allegiance to the Greens.

But your father was no fool.

You were his eldest; first of the four sisters.

And so, he asks for a betrothal in exchange.

But with Aegon already married and Aemond betrothed to marry and Daeron too young for you, he asks Criston to marry you.

And with his undying loyalty to Alicent and Greens, he does.

The ceremony is small and not flashing, with only Aemond and your family present.

There was no feast. Just a close dinner between family.

You were scared... terrified actually.

But the Hand of the King reassured you that he will do nothing you don't wish for, and instead of consummating the marriage, he falls asleep; on the floor.

And you realize that maybe, he isn't as bad as you have heard of him.

[b-skarsgard]

https://parade.com/movies/bill-skarsgard-nosferatu-interview-exclusive

Skarsgård's vampiric transformation does make him virtually unrecognizable. Combining full-body prosthetics and elaborate costumes, the actor built the character with Eggers over a 10-year period, even working with an operatic vocal coach on a completely new voice. If you're able to spot Skarsgård in the film, hats off to you.

Of course crafting a new version of Dracula/Orlok was certainly a momentous task. Skarsgård's been told there were already over "170 different adaptations" of the character prior to his own. He's humbly giving much of the credit for his own transformation to Eggers' screenplay, though.

full article at the link and under the cut

"I read Robert's Nosferatu script almost 10 years ago, and it hasn't changed all that much in those 10 years," he says. "So the version of Dracula was already different on the page."

Step one in the transformation was the voice. "I was really enamored by Orlok's language," Skarsgård says of Eggers' script. "He's technically speaking German in the movie, but it's English. I think he's learned German just from reading all of these texts and old books. It's this awkwardly constructed English that came out of that."

Orlok's voice was especially important in this film as the character spends much of the film hiding in the shadows to keep his true form hidden from Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). "The movie monster tends to not have much dialogue, but in this case he has a lot," Skarsgård reflects. "So the voice became my way of expressing the character."

The deep gravely voice in the film was the product of acclaimed Icelandic opera singer Ásgerður Júníusdóttir. "We explored the voice together, but also the technicality of using your entire body when you speak and placing the voice as low as you can in your body," Skarsgård says. "It's a new world for me, and I love voice work. I was just absorbing all of these tools that I'm going to use as my career progresses."

Layered on top of the vocal work were Linda Muir's costumes, what Skarsgård describes as "historically accurate costumes that a 16th-century Hungarian nobleman would have worn. They're the clothes he would have worn when he was a man."

While Focus Features is keeping Orlok's appearance under wraps for as long as possible, you can see the massive fur coat Skarsgård donned in the shadowy poster.

"I knew the shadow was going to be an ally for Orlok, especially in the scenes with Thomas, where he's hiding his appearance," he says. "So he lives in the shadow, and he uses his big fur cape and the hat to not give away what he is. The shadow became a friend."

Perhaps the most impressive element of Skarsgård's transformation, however, was David White's prosthetic makeup, which took hours to apply each day, was difficult to act through and painful to wear. When I ask if he was able to cheat on days he was in the shadows, Skarsgård says no with one exception: "Every single shadow in this movie is also me puppeteering behind camera. That was the only time where I didn't need to have the full regalia on.

"The full prosthetics would take six hours to apply. "It's just uncomfortable," Skarsgård says of having to sit in the chair that long. "And any sense of privacy goes out the window. You become very close with the team that's applying this makeup. They're really getting up in there with a brush in your ass crack. They become your little safe space."

And the six-hour application process was just the beginning of what could be long, physical days on set. The film's final moments involve a sex scene between Orlok and Lily-Rose Depp's Ellen Hutter, which Skarsgård performed in head-to-toe prosthetics.

"I don't know her perspective on, 'I'm going to kiss this monster,'" Skarsgård says about his (fully clothed? skinned? suited?) sex scene, "But for me, when we shot, I was Orlok, and I really, really, really wanted to devour her."

If performing a sex scene in a hot latex bodysuit sounds miserable, that's because it was. "The actual final moment of Orlok was incredibly physically exhausting because there was a lot of technical camera work," Skarsgård says. "What's in the movie, I had to do that 30 times." If you've seen the film, you'll know how truly arduous that experience must have been.

The most difficult day on set for Skarsgård, however, involved a sequence filmed on a boat during Orlok's transfer from his castle in Transylvania to the German harbor he plans to terrorize next. In one scene that involved "pretty tricky advanced camera work," a seaman descends into the hull of the ship to "rid the boat of this demon." As the camera follows the sailor, Skarsgård's Orlok is initially seen behind the man in the shadows.

"Then I have to exit frame, run around and enter my position for when the jump scare pans down to the rats and then pans up and I'm standing there," Skarsgård remembers. "So it's very physical, but I was covered head to toe, except for my eyeballs and the soles of my feet. Even my palms and my hands are covered. That was a 12-hour day."

With that many prosthetics on, there's nowhere for all that sweat to go. "It doesn't breathe, and I don't think it's healthy," Skarsgård confides. "Your body's probably absorbing all those f--king toxins and glue and sh--, plastic and latex and whatever."

During the 12 hours running around the hull of a ship, Skarsgård remembers thinking, "I don't know what's happening, but my body is not doing well."

"You know the skin is your biggest organ right," he says. "So it needs to breathe. I got flashbacks from that urban legend about the woman in Goldfinger being covered in gold and actually dying. I'm like, 'Okay, this is how I go.'"

Obviously, Skarsgård did not die of heat exhaustion in a latex Dracula suit like that one cameraman in the 2022 film Babylon.

"At that point I told them—because it was a long day and I was waiting around—'We need to open it up so my body can breathe,' and then they found the pockets where I could open up and my body started to breathe."

Skarsgård compares the agony of the shoot with what he thinks childbirth would feel like. "They're not on the same level, of course. I've seen childbirth, but it's as close as I can get to giving birth as a man, as these f--king monsters I'm portraying," he says.

When I ask him if there were any other iconic monsters on his bucket list, he says he's done for now. "To play Orlok in Robert Eggers' Nosferatu is the holy grail," he says. "It's kind of the peak and, in a way, the nail in the coffin."

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter thirty-three — give it time (💋)

“I’ll admit, you made it look like a home.”

You looked around, enamored by the mutable blend of the other’s home. There was oddly a cozy charm that bled in the space, a mixture of contrasts that you wouldn’t have thought he would involve himself with.

There were soft shadows playing against the walls, promenaded by the warm and golden glow of the lamps. It was really elegant in here, yet, meticulously chosen to make you feel comfortable enough to sit down on the obviously expensive furniture.

“Didn’t know you had a…knack for interior design either.” You said hesitantly, looking at a very abstract tiny statue of a triangle on one of the shelves. Even thought you were interested, it still just felt like a painted on canvas for you. Kind of like...the idea that there can be paint on a canvas, but it doesn't make it a painting. "Learning a lot more about you everyday."

"It wasn't my idea," He sighed. "I told the interior designer 'not too many colors', and I guess she thought I was talking about completely mute."

"Feels like a sanctuary," you murmured.

Despite the dismissive words he gave you, the effort that was put into everything was clearly crafted and corroborated. You walked over to the books sitting on the coffee table, the only things out of place from the rest of the textures, reading the hard cover and smiling.

"You're really considering it?" You asked, to which Kuni turned towards you, "Taking care of the orchard outside."

He shrugged, his eyes moving back to making tea in the kitchen. "I don't have a choice. It's either me who does it, or it dies."

"That's not true, you can always pay someone to do it for you. I know there's a lot of people who may want it for themselves, it's completely healthy." You rambled, trying to see it through the long windows. "I take it that was a housewarming gift too?"

"From Furina. Came with the house, thought it'd be funny to see me struggle with something mundane."

"I heard," You grinned, not being able to keep your laugh in. "Love that for you, it's like a package deal! Did it work?"

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair at the thought. "I guess, I don't know," He started pour the tea once the pot began to steam. "I know her goal was to drive me insane. A constant reminder that no matter how far I try to distance myself from complications, they find a way to root themselves in my life."

"Hey, I wouldn't see it as that." You chuckled, the sound mixing with the soft clinking of the ceramic cups he was setting on the table. "It's probably just a way to keep you grounded after everything."

"I don't see the appeal in tending to trees."

"Maybe it's not even about that," You mused. "Maybe it's just about finding a healthy medium in your life, don't suppose you had that before, right?" You said, teasingly.

He rolled his eyes at you, a humored smile tugging at his lips. "You're one to preach about silver linings."

Your jaw dropped, a small scoff coming from your mouth. "I actually came here to truce, thank you very much. Even though you're the one who tried to run away from me — news flash, didn't work, genius. Still pissed off about that. I'm glad that Furina is looking to help you as much as she's looking to out you."

"Running away is my thing." He squinted playfully, "Like she's big help anyway. The only reason she's in on it is because she wants us to have this romance trope going on for real this time. It's stupid as fuck."

You paused at his words, feeling yourself swallow a big lump some of the tea nestled in your mouth. You shivered at the heat that washed on you, pursing your lips in thought as you let the conversation simmer. The two of you standing in a companionable silence. The trees outside rustled gently in the breeze, their leaves a vibrant contrast to the muted tones inside.

"I mean, I don't know," You paused, cringing as your fingers tightened on your cup. "I don't think it's stupid."

Kuni stiffened too, gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. There was a certain look that you've never seen before from him. You couldn't decipher his actual feelings. "I figured."

Your cheeks flushed. "Holy shit, never mind if you were expecting it already." You hissed to yourself, trying to ebb how much embarrassment was on your skin. "Look, I need to check into my hotel soon—"

"Sit down." He cut you off, assertiveness in his tone enough to get you to immediately listen, plopping back down. There was an unexpected gravity that was with him, another departure from his nonchalant attitude.

Your heart hammered rapid fire in your chest, a mix of fear and total apprehension were doing a waltz on your general disposition. The more time you were here, the more you worried about the next time you'll make an absolute fucking fool of yourself. You fidgeted with your fingers.

"What really brought you here." He asked, expectantly. "First thing you give me is a hug, and some words of affirmation. You're not here just to catch up, especially after I blew you off."

"I wanted to see you again." You admitted, the weight of your own words pressing down on you. "You owned up to it, left your part of the Internet in a spiral, and then didn't bother to talk to me after that."

He was looking at you, you sensed it. And it wasn't like you could look at him back, otherwise you were going to melt. It was different seeing him from up close, it was an original experience to you if you could name it anything.

His eyes were searching you, despite all you said, as if trying to decipher if you were being genuine. His eyes bored into you like a tiny laser burning your skin. He nodded, a sliver of understanding crossing his face. "You gave me the impression that you were done. I left it at that."

"Yeah, well, I felt like the only one who could leave it at anything was me."

Despite how sticky and tense it was again, you felt relieved that he wasn't as malicious as he was behind the screen. You were relieved that at least the worst of it was over. But it didn't didn't help the burning in your chest, the aching of the bubble in your throat. "Ei really made you do all that stuff? It's not because you really do hate me, right?"

There was no more pretending anymore, no more hiding behind false bravado or dissing each other behind screens like pussies. It was only raw honesty, vulnerable and exposed.

"(Y/N)." His expression softened, a silent dilemma clear on his face. He gathered his own courage, squaring his shoulders a bit and looking at you again. "I'm sorry."

You felt dazed, electricity in the air around you, the world officially tilted on its axis to you. "What?" You accentuated snippier than you intended.

"You were collateral. Nothing that you did deserved what happened to you. Makes sense that you did what you did, you weren't the problem." He explained, shoulders slumped again. "I was behind what I did, at the end of the day; Ei just told me to do it. I'm sorry for being part of the reason you couldn't bounce back. I know if the situation were different, I'd leave you alone."

People kept saying that to you these days, that nothing that happened was because you deserved it. Maybe you never quite got the picture until Kuni said something along the lines of it. You never thought that him apologizing to you would garner the oddest reaction out of you.

Because why was it sexy..? Stop.

"And," He sighed, grabbing your attention lightspeed again. "I would consider liking you more if this all didn't happen. You're alright."

His admission of everything was catching you off guard left and right. You had no idea what to feel with the prominent knot in your stomach. "Do you like me?" "(Y/N), I don't want to—"

"I'm alright, in your words, but do you like me?" Your tone solidified with each word slowly jutting out, assertiveness hardening your composure. "Tell me. Look at me and tell me."

The uncertainly stretched on for what was practically indefinitely. He held his breath, as did you, waiting for his response. Your heart was ruthless against you, beating against your body. He sized you up, seeking an answer for himself.

"...Yeah?" He admitted, voice barely audible as he tried to find his own words. But everything he did think of was so unlike him, out of his personal way of handling things like this. "Yeah. I do."

You blinked, both of your eye contact filling a certain, more romantic space that neither of you even thought was there before today. But the more you realized it, the more you realized that maybe the sexual tension was always there.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89

@liuaneee @franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover @kavineyah

@kittywagun (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[reveryfics]

Hii !

I'm in a big Bucky mood, and i wish I've time to watch the winter soldier series. But i've to wait so i request you another Bucky x ftm!reader please <3 i don't have special ideas unfortunately-

Thanks for reading me !! 🎀🎀

Cigarettes and Sex

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x FtM Reader

Prompt: "leave marks," he breathed. "Please, leave marks."

"You're so pathetic."

"I'm so pathetic," he hums

A/n: Something about seemingly dominant men actually being submissive is *chiefs kiss* especially Bucky. Highly recommend listening to the song while reading this, specifically the 1999 remastered one on Spotify.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Cigarette smoke, thick and gray, spiraled lazily in the dim light, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn leather armchair. Frank Sinatra's "I'm A Fool To Want You" crooned from the vintage record player nestled in the alcove, the music crackling and skipping occasionally, adding a sultry rhythm to the air.

Bucky knelt before the armchair, his hair damp and plastered to his forehead, his skin slick with sweat. His eyes, half-lidded and glazed with lust, devoured the sight of his lover. He traced the line of his lover's jaw, the curve of his lips as they delicately drew on the cigarette, the way the sheer silk robe clung to his body, outlining the swell of his hips and the taut curve of his thighs.

The man leaned forward, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily towards Bucky's face. A slow, predatory smile played on his lips as Bucky inhaled the fragrant air, a heady mix of tobacco and the musky scent of his lover's skin. "Get up," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Bucky's spine.

Bucky obeyed, his legs trembling as he rose. His lover gestured towards his lap, a lazy hand tracing a path down Bucky's bare chest, igniting a fire in his core. "Sit," he commanded, his gaze lingering on the way Bucky's muscles flexed beneath his skin.

Bucky obeyed, sinking onto his lover's lap, his hands gripping the arms of the chair for support. His head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as his lover's mouth found the sensitive skin of his chest, his teeth grazing against his nipples, eliciting a series of involuntary gasps.

"Leave marks," Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "Please, leave marks."

"You're so pathetic," his lover murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Bucky's spine.

"I'm so pathetic," Bucky agreed, his voice a breathless whisper.

His lover's hand found its way to Bucky's aching cock, stroking it slowly, expertly, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Bucky arched his back, his head thrown back, his eyes rolling back in his head. He cried out, a desperate, animalistic sound as his lover's hand devoured him, his fingers swirling around the head of his cock, driving him wild.

His lover gripped Bucky's hair, forcing their mouths together in a passionate kiss, the taste of smoke and sweat mingling with the metallic tang of blood. The cigarette crumbled to the floor, forgotten.

Bucky gasped for air, his body trembling uncontrollably as his lover continued to torment him, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks across his chest and abdomen. He cried out again, a raw, primal sound as he erupted, his body convulsing violently, cum dripping down his lover's hand.

A low hum vibrated in his lover's chest as he licked the cum from his fingers, the taste of Bucky intoxicating him. "Stand," he commanded, his voice a silken whisper.

He stood along with Bucky, discarding the robe with a careless flick of his wrist, revealing a body lean and muscular, glistening with sweat. Bucky's breath hitched. His lover's eyes, dark and predatory, held his captive. He watched as his lover reached for another cigarette, the slow, deliberate movements of his fingers tracing his throbbing clit arousing him further.

Bucky was utterly, hopelessly enamored. He thrived on the humiliation, the pain, the complete and utter surrender to his lover's will. He loved the way his lover marked him, claiming him as his own. He loved the heady scent of smoke and sweat, and the lingering taste of his lover's lips.

His lover approached slowly, his movements fluid and predatory. He placed the cigarette between Bucky's lips, his arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto Bucky's cock, a low groan escaping his lips as he entered him fully.

Their bodies moved in perfect unison, a slow, sensual dance punctuated by the rhythmic thud of their hearts. They shared the cigarette, inhaling deeply, the smoke swirling around them like a sensual haze. The music continued to play, the crackling and skipping adding a raw, primal edge to their lovemaking.

They reached their peak together, their bodies trembling, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bucky lay spent, his body a canvas of bruises, his muscles aching with pleasure. His lover, satisfied, extinguished the cigarette and slipped the robe back on.

"Until next time, James," he murmured, his voice a low caress.

Bucky watched him go, the sound of the closing door echoing through the room. He lay there for a long time, lost in the afterglow, the scent of smoke and sweat still clinging to his skin, the memory of his lover's touch still burning bright.