#and then pollen started flying

[shadowbrightshine]

Welcome to the Midwest! Where we have all three seasons in one week!

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

EMPEROR'S DANCER SIMON

sfw + nsfw. gender neutral reader. sex pollen. mentions of rape and murder. angst.

you hadn’t known it was tradition. you’d just assumed the old men who had ruled before you had strange, indulgent ways of unwinding after a long day. you had braced yourself for extravagance, sure— but nothing could have prepared you for this.

after your first month, you’d planned to slip away to the hot springs, stretch out the stiff muscles you've spent hunched over the mountains of unfinished paperwork your predecessor had so graciously abandoned. steam, solitude, and silence— just a few stolen hours to reclaim your sanity before the cycle of governance began anew.

but barely had you sunk into the warmth before your adviser burst in, eyes averted, pressing fresh robes into your hands with an urgency that immediately soured your mood.

“your majesty, it’s time for your evening engagement.”

you slumped further into the water, dragging a wet hand down your face. “i don’t recall scheduling one.”

“ah, well… it’s tradition.”

tradition, apparently, was reclining on silk cushions while a half-naked man in a skull mask danced for you.

the music started as a murmur of stringed instruments, the deep thrum of a drum marking time like a heartbeat. a flute threaded through it all, almost mournful, spreading through the chamber like incense.

the dancer moved with it, body an instrument of its own. the shift of his hips sent the coins at his waist swaying, the light catching on gold and the smooth stretch of muscle. his hands carved shapes in the air, fingers fluid, wrists loose. he twisted, ribs shifting in isolation from the rest of his frame, a display of mastery that you were sure took years to perfect.

the drumbeat quickened, and his movements followed. sharper now, his chest popping forward, hips snapping to the rhythm with ease. he turned in a slow circle, the fabric around his waist flaring, feet silent against the ornate rug.

it was hypnotic— the way he moved, the way the music seemed to live in him, the way every motion felt deliberate, like a secret being spoken just for you.

and you, despite yourself, sat frozen.

you realized only when the music stopped that your grip on the goblet had gone tense, your knuckles white against the dark metal. the heat at the back of your neck crept higher, burning at the tips of your ears, and you swallowed, willing your voice to stay even.

“thank you,” you said, inclining your head slightly. “that was-” you cleared your throat, feeling as though it might crack. “that was beautiful.”

his mask tilted, just a fraction.

you were the first emperor simon had danced for— after all, each ruler had their own dancer, their own traditions— but he had seen the last one up close, felt his gaze crawl over his skin like something wet and grasping. The man had leered, had indulged in his power like a glutton at a feast.

but you— you only sat there, hands tucked in your lap, face warm, struggling to meet his eyes even through the mask.

he watched as your adviser murmur something about retiring for the night after the musicians’ own exit, barely audible over the pounding in your ears, before disappearing through the heavy doors.

the moment the latch clicked shut, simon reached for the folds of his drapery.

you were only just beginning to let out a breath when you caught movement in your periphery— fabric slipping, a belt loosening, fingers curling at his waist.

wait, what?

you shot to your feet so fast your goblet nearly toppled, a hand flying up instinctively as if you could halt whatever was about to happen.

“a-ah- what are you doing?” your voice cracked slightly, caught between command and incredulity. “i- isn’t it a crime to be inappropriate in front of the emperor? ah- don’t people fear anything these days?”

simon stilled, half-out of his outer robe, blinking at you like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your reaction. slowly, he tilted his head. “...it’s tradition.”

“tradition?” you echoed, voice climbing an octave. “tradition?” you gestured vaguely at his hands, which were once again working at the knots of his attire. “i- what- no- keep your clothes on-”

his fingers paused. you could almost hear his brow raise beneath the mask.

“the emperor takes the dancer afterwards.” his voice was calm, matter-of-fact, like he was explaining something as routine as a change in the weather.

your face crumpled, heat flaring at the tips of your ears, and you pressed your palms against your temples. gods help you.

“your emperor,” you said, exasperated at the situation, “demands you keep your clothes on.” you inhaled sharply, trying to steady your nerves. “and- and eat grapes with me.”

a long pause.

simon said nothing. then, after a moment, he slowly let go of the fabric, letting it rest against his hips once more. he blinked at you, unreadable behind the bone mask, before settling into a relaxed stance, his hands resting loosely at his sides.

he had prepared for many things. entitlement. greed. that familiar, hungry gaze. but this flustered little emperor, looking anywhere but at him, cheeks hot, gripping at their robes like they were the one being compromised— this was new.

then, as if finding the situation mildly amusing, he nodded.

“as you wish.”

( … )

the moment simon stepped back into the dimly lit corridors of the dancers’ quarters, the air shifted. conversations dipped into hushed murmurs, eyes flickered toward him, and the sharp sound of johnny’s bare feet crossing the stone floor filled the space before he even had the chance to remove his mask.

“christ, mate- what happened?” johnny’s voice was low, urgent. his hands were on him before simon could brush him off, fingers prodding at his arms, his shoulders, searching for something. a wince. a bruise. some telltale mark that this night had ended like all the others.

“they weren’t too rough, were they?” another's voice cut through the quiet. someone else shifted closer, brows furrowed. “did they leave bruises?”

simon rolled his shoulders, shaking Johnny’s grip. no bruises. no lingering hands. no unwanted touches. the feeling of silk-wrapped fingers never came. only the memory of a soft voice, a question so out of place it had nearly thrown him.

‘have you eaten?’

he had stood there, still, thrown not by the words themselves, but by the fact that they had been asked at all. that you had noticed.

and you had not only noticed— you had acted.

food had arrived in elegant dishes, but it had not been the delicate, indulgent fare he had come to expect from imperial chambers. no dainty confections, no cloying sweetmeats. no food meant to be fed from gilded fingertips between whispered, filthy promises.

instead, it was real food that settled warm in the stomach. that filled, rather than teased. the kind of food meant to sustain.

and you had simply watched, hands tucked into your sleeves, gaze lowered— not out of avoidance, nor out of shame, but out of respect.

‘eat,’ your posture had said. ‘you are not a meal tonight. you are not meant to be devoured.’

even after the last bite, you had not reached for him, had not let the moment stretch into something uncomfortable or unfinished. you had simply stood, offered the first bow of the night, and said, “thank you for the performance. it was… mesmerizing.”

a pause. a quick breath. a flustered clearing of the throat. “i wish you a good night.”

and that had been it.

johnny snapped his fingers in front of simon’s face. “oi. you good?”

simon blinked. the room came back into focus. bruised knuckles. nervous eyes. a group of men who had learned to expect pain after every dance.

he exhaled, shaking his head, and stepped past johnny.

“yeah,” he said, voice steady.

he thought of you again— how you had looked away when his robes had started to slip.

‘they were flustered.’ his lips curled slightly beneath the mask.

“they were… kind.”

( … )

the purge began in the dead of night.

the palace, usually a place of quiet indulgence in the hours before dawn, was restless. servants huddled together in the alcoves, their whispered prayers swallowed by the heavy footfalls of armored soldiers. the halls that had once been filled with laughter and idle gossip, now echoed with the sharp ring of steel.

in the noble estates, men were dragged from their beds.

the empire’s most powerful officials, men who had grown fat on stolen gold and spent decades tightening their grip on power, woke to the sound of doors splintering under booted feet.

there were no warnings. no trials.

the emperor had decreed judgment, and judgment had come.

by sunrise, half the imperial council was gone.

the first whisper of it reached simon before breakfast.

he had barely sat up when johnny burst through the door, panting like he had sprinted across the entire compound. his eyes were wide with something between excitement and disbelief.

“did you hear?” he blurted.

simon scrubbed a hand over his face. he was still half-asleep, the world a sluggish blur. he hadn't heard anything.

“what?” he muttered.

“they’re gone,” johnny said, voice hushed, as if the walls had ears.

“who?”

“the council.”

simon blinked. he must have misheard.

the imperial council, the real power behind the throne, the untouchable elite who had bled the empire dry for decades, was gone?

johnny must have seen the doubt on his face because he leaned in, voice dropping even lower. “the emperor had them dragged from their estates last night,” the words spilled from his lips in a rush. “the whole lot of them. some executed on the spot, some thrown in chains. the prisons are full.”

a strange silence settled over simon.

the emperor did it. the same emperor who had blushed and stammered at the sight of his skin. the one who had refused to touch him, who had pulled his robes tighter when he moved to undress.

the one who had offered him food instead of flesh, who had thanked him for his dance in a voice that had trembled, not with hunger, not even power, but with something almost innocent.

that emperor had just cleansed the empire in a single night?

but the details were undeniable.

the council had been a cesspit of corruption. that much was known to everyone— servants, soldiers, even the common folk in the streets.

the previous emperor had been a weak, decadent fool, more interested in his own pleasures than ruling an empire.

but the true rot had always been his council. a den of power-hungry parasites.

sons of nobles who had never worked a day in their lives. brothers of wealthy merchants who controlled entire trade routes like personal kingdoms. advisors who spoke in silk-tongued lies while emptying the empire’s coffers. generals who had turned soldiers into mercenaries, selling their blades to the highest bidder while the borders crumbled.

they had taken everything– land, coin, lives— and given back nothing but suffering.

they had thought themselves untouchable. even after the old emperor’s death, they had been certain of their place. the new emperor was young, soft, naïve. nothing would change.

but something had.

the executions began swiftly.

the minor officials were the first to go. the tax collectors who had lined their pockets with gold stolen from starving villages, the magistrates who had sold verdicts to the highest bidder.

then came the generals who had betrayed their oaths, the merchants who had hoarded wealth while the people went hungry.

then, the council itself.

the most powerful men in the empire, who had sat in the emperor’s halls and made decrees like gods among mortals.

some tried to flee. some tried to bargain. some even screamed of injustice as they were dragged through the streets they had once ruled.

the emperor had let the people see them.

no quiet assassinations. no discreet poisonings.

their crimes were read aloud in the public square, their fates decided under the watchful eyes of the very people they had tormented.

the empire had not wept for them.

simon listened.

he listened as the guards swapped stories over their meals, as the servants whispered in the halls, as the lower officials murmured of shifting alliances and uncertain futures.

and in the middle of it all, the emperor stood untouched.

no trembling hands. no stammering voice. no soft, hesitant smiles. the shy little thing who had offered him grapes had wiped an entire generation of corruption from the palace without hesitation.

simon sat on the edge of his cot, johnny’s voice still rattling in his ears.

he thought of you, of your wide, flustered eyes and the uncharacteristic kindness you carried, and found himself wondering—

had you ever been afraid at all?

( … )

simon doesn't get summoned for a month. and he understood why.

the empire was unraveling and reweaving itself under the emperor’s hand. the council was gone, yes, but their absence had left a vacuum.

new ministers had to be chosen. laws had to be rewritten. sentences had to be passed down, beheadings signed into order. there were trials, public executions, and long nights where the emperor’s lantern burned until dawn.

the entire court was shifting. a world built on corruption and decadence was being dragged— kicking, screaming— into something new.

and so, simon had not been called. he had heard whispers, of course.

the emperor barely left their chambers. meals were left untouched. audiences grew shorter. even the palace servants had begun speaking in hushed tones.

overworked, someone murmured. drowning, another whispered.

and then, after a full month— a summons.

a messenger arrived at his door, impassively handing him an order written in the emperor’s own hand.

simon stared at it for a long time. he wasn’t scared. not exactly. but something in his stomach twisted.

the last time he had danced for the emperor, they had been a flustered thing beneath the weight of his gaze.

and now?

now, they were someone who had ordered an empire to kneel.

he had seen men like that before. had seen the way power changed them— hardened them, twisted them beyond recognition.

and so, when the doors opened, simon glanced up and braced himself.

not for a cruel emperor. but for a tired one.

you stood in the doorway, shoulders heavier than before, your silk robes hanging looser against your frame.

your face was drawn, shadows carved beneath your eyes, lips pressed together in quiet exhaustion. still, you didn’t look at him with hunger.

you barely looked at him at all.

when you spoke, your voice was quiet. “you may begin.”

simon danced.

and when the music faded, he remained still, letting the silence settle over. the lanterns flickered against the dark, their glow casting long shadows over the planes of his body, catching on the sweat at his collarbone, gilding the ridges of his arms, the curve of his chest. his fingers flexed, breath slow, waiting.

the dance was finished.

he hesitated undressing.

the first time he had danced for you, he had gone to remove his robes and been stopped, by command, by your hands catching at his wrists, voice stumbling over itself as you demanded he keep his clothes on.

but that had been a different time. that had been before.

before the trials, the sentences. before the streets had run slick with the blood of the old regime.

the first time he had danced, you had been unsure. nervous. stiff at the shoulders, eyes darting away, fingers twitching over the silk of your robes.

but now, you had sentenced men to die. you had held the weight of absolute power in your hands and wielded it without hesitation.

surely, you were different now. surely, you would not stop him this time.

simon’s fingers found the clasp at his belt.

“what-” your voice wavered, and your hands twitched, gripping at the fabric pooled in your lap. “what are you doing?”

simon paused. he looked up.

your gaze darted from him to the table and back, never quite settling. you adjusted the rings on your fingers, thumb smoothing absently over a polished stone, then your hands dropped to your lap, fingers curling into the fabric there, gripping and releasing as if trying to find something solid.

you weren’t looking at him. not really.

you were still nervous.

maybe not in the same way— not like before, when you had scrambled back, robes clutched so tightly they threatened to wrinkle. but still, there was tension in your shoulders, your fingers twisting against your sleeves.

you cleared your throat, shifting, before lifting a hand and, almost hesitantly, patting the space beside you.

“sit,” you murmured, still not quite meeting his gaze. “we should eat.”

simon stared.

for all his years of training, all his discipline, all his ability to hold himself perfectly still under scrutiny, something in him faltered.

he had expected demand. he had expected command. he had expected the same cold cruelty that emperors before you had wielded with ease

it becomes a ritual from then on.

every week, without fail, simon danced for you. and every week, without fail, you shared a meal afterward.

at first, it had been nothing more than an act of politeness, a courtesy you extended to someone who had expected something very different from you.

but then it became habit.

you learned the little things. that he ate without sound, exact in his movements even at rest, that he listened more than he spoke, the occasional tilt of his head the only indication that he was considering your words. how he never quite let himself relax, always poised, always ready.

and, in turn, he learned you. learned that you liked your tea slightly cooled before drinking, that you tapped your fingers against the lacquered table when deep in thought. learned that your power did not mean cruelty, that you did not demand fealty through fear most of the time, and that you had never asked for this throne but now that you had it, you would not sit idly upon it.

itt was— not companionship. not quite. but something close. something like familiarity.

so when you left the week’s meetings feeling drained, the echoes of politics still ringing through your head, it was simon you found yourself thinking of.

the courtyard was filled with the spoils of diplomacy— chests of silk, intricately painted ceramics, gilded weapons with delicate inlays of gold and ivory. and, most notably, horses.

tall, well-muscled things, bred for battle or ceremony, shifting their weight with practiced ease as handlers checked their bridles.

all of them were pristine. except for—

you stopped. blinked. tilted your head.

the animal stared back.

it was smaller than the horses, its fur coarse, dark with streaks of gold along its face. its ears were too large, flopping slightly as it tilted its head in perfect mimicry of your own movement.

“what,” you said, voice slow, “is that?”

the attendant beside you perked up. “ah! that’s a dog, your majesty.”

a dog.

you had never seen one before, not up close. the palace had been filled with birds, sleek white cranes that perched along the stone bridges, brilliant goldfinches flitting through the gardens. but not— this.

“does it serve a purpose?” you asked, watching as the creature stepped forward, its nose twitching at the hem of your robes.

the attendant nodded. “they’re loyal. protective. they’ll guard whoever they bond with.”

loyal. protective.

you hummed, considering. it was, objectively, perfect. a perfect gift for simon.

you try to suppress the glee curling in your chest as the dog follows at your heels, its padded steps near soundless against the stone.

it had taken little more than a glance and a soft call for it to follow, the creature trotting after you with an easy, natural obedience. as if it had belonged to you from the start.

but it wasn’t for you.

the warmth in your chest is unfamiliar. strange. it is not the satisfaction of a well-brokered deal, not the quiet triumph of an opponent bested, not even the sharp, addictive rush of power that comes with watching the world bend to your will.

no, this is different.

you’ve heard the stories, of course. of emperors keeping their dancers closer than their concubines. of favor turning to obsession. of gifts upon gifts heaped at the feet of those who spun and twisted for their ruler’s amusement. you have read of love.

but you do not know if that is what this is.

you only know that there is— warmth. a quiet want. a desire to please. not in the way that your court expects, not in the way that your officials demand. not out of duty or necessity or strategy.

but for him.

because watching him dance brings you pleasure. and you.. well, you want to return it.

so you press forward, your fingers twitching slightly against your sleeves, as the dog follows you into simon’s quarters, unaware of the meaning behind its presence.

you step into simon’s quarters, the dog padding beside you, its claws clicking against the polished floor. it’s a good dog. attentive. loyal. it watches you, ears twitching at every little sound, steps in sync with yours as if it had been at your side forever.

you’re not sure why your stomach is twisting like this, why your palms feel warm, why your heartbeat has picked up just slightly. you’ve given gifts before— lavish ones, jewels and gold and artifacts that could buy whole cities— but you’ve never given something like this. never given something that feels personal.

and you want to know what he will do with it.

simon looks up as you enter, standing near the low table where you always share meals, his mask in place, his posture as steady as ever. he’s still in his dance silks, his shoulders bare beneath the soft glow of candlelight, but for once, he doesn’t seem to take note of your presence.

because the moment his eyes land on the dog, something happens.

his whole body locks. his breath halts. his hands, already at his sides, clench just slightly. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t blink.

it’s not the reaction you expected. you thought he might tilt his head, ask what it was for, perhaps hesitate before reaching out

“i brought you something,” you say belatedly, though the words feel thinner than they should.

the dog shifts at your side, tail giving a slow, easy wag. it must sense something, because it takes a step forward, ears pricking up, eyes locked onto simon’s unmoving form.

and then— simon falls to his knees.

he doesn’t lower himself like a man intending to kneel. he doesn’t bow, nor does he fold himself neatly. he drops. a sharp, heavy motion, as if his body has been pulled downward by a force greater than himself. his hands shoot out, grasping, clinging, desperate— and it is not like a man petting a dog. it is not a man greeting a new companion.

the dog whines, shifting under simon’s grip, its tail thudding softly against the floor. simon doesn’t let go.

“where did you find him?” his voice is not like you’ve ever heard it before. it is rough, frayed at the edges, as though he is forcing the words through something raw and hurting in his throat.

you hesitate.

“he was traveling with the diplomats,” you say slowly, watching his fingers tighten in thick fur, his head bowing lower. “i asked for him.” a pause. “you two are... acquainted?”

simon’s hands shake. just slightly.

“he’s my childhood dog,” he says. and there it is. the weight behind it, the tightness in his voice, the way his fingers curl like they’re terrified to let go. “riley.”

something thick lodges itself in your throat. you don’t know what you thought this was. a simple gift. a kind gesture. a way to show simon that he is more than the role he plays, that he has worth beyond his performances. but you had not expected to dig up something this deep.

you take a step back. give him space. say nothing as he presses his face against the dog’s fur, holding it with a desperation that feels too sacred for you to intrude upon.

you did not mean to return something that had been lost. but you had.

and watching him now, watching the way his shoulders shake, just a little, you think, for the first time, that you’ve never been more glad to give something away.

( … )

the room is dim, the scent of burning incense curling in the air. outside, the night hums with distant music, the palace still alive despite the late hour. but here, in the quiet of your chambers, there is only the low crackle of a lantern and the soft, steady sound of simon’s fingers running through riley’s fur.

you watch him, gaze drifting over the scars littering his arms, his back. old wounds, long since healed but still telling of a life that did not belong to a dancer.

“why?” you ask. “why a dancer?”

he doesn’t look at you immediately. he doesn’t stiffen or flinch, doesn’t recoil from the question, only lets out a slow breath and keeps petting riley, his fingers moving in slow, absentminded motions.

“i have a debt,” he says. blank. matter-of-fact.

you tilt your head.

“i got injured,” he continues, voice detached. “took a while for me to heal. guess while i was at the healers, some-” his lips press together for a moment, eyes darkening slightly before he says it, “-higher-up took a liking to me. saved me from getting sent back to the front lines with the state of my body.” his fingers curl briefly into riley’s fur before smoothing out again. “dancing… it's how I pay off my medical fees.”

you watch him for a long moment. the way he speaks of it— detached, impassive, as if it’s something that happened to someone else. he does not sound grateful. he does not sound resentful either. just— removed. like the words are a story told from a distance, belonging to another man entirely.

and you understand why. in a superficial level, you understand.

he had said it himself: dancers are taken after every performance.

you can only imagine. your fingers tap against the table, gaze lingering on the muscles in his forearms, the scars that cut along his skin like old battle lines. tou think about the man who had taken him from the battlefield. the one who had decided simon was better suited for silk than steel.

"would you like to kill them?" you ask.

simon stills. his hand stops, resting against riley’s back. slowly, he lifts his head, looking at you.

"the person who took a liking to you," you clarify, tilting your head slightly. “would you like to kill them?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his eyes search yours, as if trying to find some kind of trap, some hidden meaning behind the words. as if waiting for you to laugh and take it back, to chide him for even considering it.

but you don’t.

simon blinks. a little stunned. he almost forgot who he was speaking to. nearly forgot that this was the same emperor who had emptied council seats, who had cleaned house with blood and blade.

his throat bobs slightly. “... you’d let me?” he asks.

you only smile, the curve of your lips unwavering.

“the only thing i wouldn’t allow,” you say, “is for you to harm yourself, simon.”

( … )

the door creaks open, and simon steps out into the cold air, his breath slow, measured, as if testing whether his lungs still work. the blood on his knuckles is drying now, crusting along the ridges of his skin, but the warmth of it lingers, soaked deep into the fine lines of his palm. his cheek is streaked with red, a single splatter tracing the sharp plane of his jaw like a brand.

he doesn't wipe it away. he feels no need to.

the body inside does not matter. the official is nothing now but another stain on the floorboards, another whisper of corruption excised from the empire. he had not begged, not pleaded. only stared at Simon with something dull in his eyes, as if he had already accepted that this day would come.

the killing had been quiet. private. just as simon had asked.

he breathes in, lets the air sting his lungs, and then he notices you.

you are waiting for him.

the lanterns burn low in the courtyard, their soft glow casting elongated shadows across the stones. the light catches on the edge of the spear in your hands, polished steel gleaming beneath the night sky. it is not ceremonial, not for show.

simon stops.

your gaze meets his. there is no revulsion in your expression, no horror at the blood spattered across his skin. you take him in, the remnants of his violence, the weight of what he has done, what he has become, and you do not flinch.

“you still have a debt,” you say and it is not a revelation but a simple truth.

simon holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. “yes.”

you watch him, considering. and then, in a slow motion, you extend the spear toward him.

the wood is solid beneath your grip, the weight of it resting easily in your hands. it has been used before. it will be used again.

“pay it off,” you say.

the words are an invitation and a command all at once.

simon stares at the weapon, at your fingers curled around its length. he does not hesitate. he reaches out, takes the spear from your hands, and holds it as he remembers how.

after that, he trains.

every day, from dawn until the lanterns are lit at dusk, he hones the strength he once had. the fluidity of movement that had been stripped from him, molded into something delicate, enticing. he reverses it now— makes his body a weapon again, rather than a display.

but the soldiers watch. they are not kind about it.

there are whispers that follow him in the barracks, murmurs exchanged between men who have never known what it is to be bought and sold, who have only ever seen battle as something glorious and not the brutal, ugly thing it truly is.

‘he was a dancer.’

‘he belonged to the emperor’s court, to their bed.’

‘what’s he doing here, playing soldier?’

they don’t say it to his face. at first.

but men like these— men full of piss and pride, men who believe that strength is something that can only be tested through humiliation— they are not patient.

and so they corner him.

not with their blades, no— that would be too obvious, too easy to reprimand.

they do it in ways they think are clever. they shove too hard during training spars, make jabs that teeter just at the edge of acceptable. one even dares to grab him by the arm, fingers tightening like a vice, lips curling into something amused.

“show us, then,” the man had drawled. “dance for us. you must be good at handling a sword in more ways than one, yeah?”

it had been a mistake. simon had let the man live with three broken ribs. the others had needed more convincing.

when word reaches commander price, it is not simon who delivers it.

but it doesn’t matter.

price finds them. the beating is public. price makes sure of it.

he doesn't call them out to the courtyard. no, that would be too generous. too structured. he finds them where they sit, where they drink, where they feel safe— and he rips that feeling away with his bare hands.

the first one doesn’t even see it coming. one second, he’s laughing, throwing back a drink, boasting about how he’d finally shut that smug dancer up, how he’d gotten his hands on him, how he was about to really put him in his place, and then price is there.

his fist caves the man’s nose in before he can even flinch.

the crack is loud. the laughter stops.

the soldier hits the floor, blood pouring from his face, hands scrambling against the stone as he tries to right himself— but he doesn’t get the chance.

price grabs him by the collar and slams his head into the table so hard the wood splits.

“you like getting your hands on people who can’t fight back?” price’s voice is sharp, like the edge of a blade sliding beneath the ribs.

“c-commander-!” someone chokes.

but it’s too late.

price turns his head slightly, catches the others, the whole rotten lot of them, and moves. he reaches the next one in two strides. he punches the bastard straight in the throat.

the man stumbles, gagging, choking, hands flying to his neck— but price isn’t done. he grabs him by the hair, drags him up onto unsteady feet— then drives his knee into his gut so hard he crumples.

one. two. three times.

someone rushes him from behind. price dodges without even looking, turns sharply, elbows the man so hard in the temple he goes down twitching.

the others start backing up.

price is only just getting started.

he throws one into the stone pillar, leaves him gasping, wheezing. he stomps on another's hand until he hears fingers snap— and when the last one tries to run?

price catches him, grabs him by the hair, and slams his head against the nearest wall. the body slides to the floor, leaving a bloody smear in its wake.

and then, silence.

the rest of the room watches in horror. no one dares to move.

except simon. he stands with arms crossed, watching without reaction. price breathes out through his nose, shakes blood off his knuckles, then turns to him.

“is that allowed?” simon asks, voice as neutral as ever.

price shrugs, wipes his hands on his tunic. “the emperor wouldn’t mind the few deaths of pieces of shits.” he pauses, tilts his head. “you’re a very good fighter, simon,” he says. “if anyone tries that again, you have my express permission to fuck their assholes open with your spear.”

simon blinks. then, with a slow nod, he replies, “...yes, sir.”

after that, no one bothers him. no one calls him a dancer anymore. not unless they want their jaw wired shut.

and when simon finally feels ready, he doesn’t hesitate. he requests an audience with the emperor.

the guards let him in without question. they know his face by now— the dancer-turned-soldier. the emperor’s oddity.

when he steps inside, he finds the you at your desk, ink staining your fingers, a candle flickering beside you.

you do not look like an emperor in that moment. you look… tired. human.

and yet, when you see him, you smile.

“simon,” you greet, voice warm despite the late hour. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

he kneels, lowering his head. “i request to be part of your personal guard.”

the candle flickers. and then, a quiet chuckle.

“you would see more action fighting on the front lines,” you say, setting your brush down, rubbing the ink from your fingers. “you would see more glory.”

“i don’t need glory.”

you tilt your head, studying him. “then what do you need?”

he hesitates, just for a moment, before meeting your gaze. “it’s you i have a debt to. not the empire.”

you hum. “wouldn’t you argue that the emperor is the empire?”

simon exhales. “no. the emperor is the emperor. i fight for you.”

you search his face for something you don’t say aloud. after a moment, you stand. your robes shift around you like dark silk as you cross the room, stopping just before him.

you place a hand on his shoulder. “then fight for me, simon.” your fingers squeeze “welcome to my guard.”

( … )

simon’s entrance into the emperor’s personal guard is… smooth. smoother than he expected, at least.

the other guards do not question him. there are no murmurs behind his back, no sidelong glances filled with doubt or scorn. he had anticipated resistance, had braced himself for it, but instead, he finds himself seamlessly folded into their ranks, as if he has always been there.

they do not sneer at him. they do not ask if he can still move his hips as well as he moves a blade. they do not whisper of the silks he once wore, the way he once swayed beneath golden light.

instead, they watch him. assess him.

the personal guard of the emperor is not composed of fools. they are neither weak, nor complacent. each one of them chosen, forged by war or circumstance into something lethal.

and while simon is not tested, he is measured.

they watch him move when training, how his muscles coil and shift as he maneuvers his spear. they watch how he strikes— if he does it blindly, wildly. he does neither.

they watch his stance, his footwork, how he adapts mid-fight, shifting strategies in a blink, never fully predictable. he does not fight like a soldier, like a man shaped by war. simon fights like someone who has been cornered before. like someone who has survived things he has no name for.

and they notice other things, too.

the sharpness in his gaze, the tension on his shoulders coiled like a spring. how his body moves before his mind can catch up— an instinctive step between the emperor and the rest of the world.

his fingers flexing near the hilt of his sword whenever a voice in the throne room rises too confidently, when someone speaks to the emperor with something close to familiarity.

and they seem… pleased.

"you’re good," kyle garrick says one afternoon, after training. he rolls his shoulders, stretching out his arms as he leans against the stone railing that overlooks the training grounds. his tunic is damp with sweat, a towel draped lazily over one shoulder.

simon does not respond immediately. rather, he shifts his grip on his spear, rolling his wrist, testing the weight.

kyle watches him for a moment, then smirks. "so," he says, voice teasing. "you got a crush on the emperor or something?"

simon stills. it is barely noticeable. a brief pause, a fraction of a second, but kyle is observant— he wouldn’t have survived this long if he weren’t.

"you do," kyle says, grinning now, tipping his head back with a laugh.

simon exhales through his nose. "i don’t."

"you so do."

"i am here to protect them," simon says, evenly, like it’s something obvious, something that should not need saying.

kyle raises a brow, amused. "yeah, yeah, i know. we all are." he waves a hand, as if brushing away the thought, then grins. "just saying, you’re a bit more intense about it than the rest of us."

and he is.

he knows that he walks too closely at their side. he knows that his pulse betrays him whenever they speak his name, soft in a way he did not think emperors could be.

it is not duty that tightens his chest. it is something else. something warm and dangerous.

( … )

the weekends belong to him. not by decree. not by law. not by any spoken agreement.

and yet, they are his all the same.

when simon left behind being a dancer, when he was given his freedom— truly given it, not just the illusion of it— he expected this arrangement to end. the time set aside for him in your presence had always been part of his role, an expectation tied to his station. it was never his to keep.

but you never withdrew it. and simon never refused.

today, however, he hesitates.

he does not know why it is so hard to speak. he is not a man of many words to begin with, but today, it feels different. it is not just silence, it is weight. something thick, cloying, clinging to his ribs and pressing against his throat, strangling the words before they can form.

you notice. you always do.

but instead of asking, instead of prying into what he is not yet ready to give, you simply turn back to riley.

the dog sprawls across the floor, rolling onto his back with a contented huff, stretching long and lazy, paws curled slightly in the air. he is comfortable here. safe.

you hum softly, your fingers combing through his thick fur. slow, careful strokes. your nails scratch lightly at his chest, pressing into the muscle there.

riley’s tail thumps against the floor. once. twice.

when you pause, pulling your hand away, his large paws swipe blindly at your wrist, tugging at the edge of your sleeve with something almost insistent and spoiled.

you laugh. it is a rare sound.

not the laugh you give in court, polite and laced with formality. not the restrained amusement of a ruler who must always be poised, who cannot afford to be anything less than composed.

instead it's something else. something real.

it crinkles the corners of your eyes, softens the sharp edges of you, curves at your lips in a way that makes you look utterly, devastatingly human.

and simon watches. your fingers move through the dog’s fur, rubbing gentle circles into his chest. he watches your eyes soften when riley nuzzles into your touch. your lips part just slightly, exhaling, for once seeming unburdened.

and something in his chest twists. he wants to say something. the words press against his ribs but they do not come.

he breathes in, trying to loosen the knot in his throat, and when he exhales— he tries.

“your majesty.”

you turn to him immediately, hands stilling in riley’s fur.

i love you.

i love you.

i love you.

it sits heavy on his tongue, pressing against the back of his teeth, but they do not leave. instead, he grips his knee, fingers flexing against the fabric, and says, "thank you."

your head tilts slightly. “what for?”

for not using me.

for letting me eat.

for giving me back riley.

for freeing me.

for giving me purpose again.

for being kind.

his throat tightens. his fingers curl against his knee. “for..." He hesitates, breath shallow. "... giving me a chance."

you do not answer right away. and then, softly— "i’m sorry as well."

simon frowns. “for what?”

“for the suffering you endured under the rule of the empire."

the frown deepens. he shakes his head. “that wasn’t your fault-”

“i am emperor.” your voice cuts through his protest. “you are my subject. the sins of all emperors before me become my own. i cannot deny you your suffering simply because it was not done under my rule."

slowly, you rise to your feet, dusting off your robes.

then you kneel.

a ruler should never kneel before their subject.

yet, there you are.

you lower yourself onto your knees before him, hands resting lightly on your thighs. your head bows. “the empire might not apologize to you, simon," you say. "but I will. by my will, i am sorry."

no emperor has ever apologized. no emperor has ever cared to. no emperor has even cared to know his name.

his pulse thrums loud in his ears. “no-”

“i am sorry.”

“your majesty-!”

“i am sorry.”

his throat burns.

you mean it.

these are not empty words. they are not the platitudes of a ruler seeking favor or the hollow reassurances of someone who does not understand what they are asking forgiveness for.

you mean it.

and simon cannot stand it.

he cannot stand the sincerity in your voice, the weight of it, the way you look at him like he is something worth kneeling for, something worth mourning.

no one has ever mourned for him before. no one has ever grieved the life he lost, the suffering he endured, the things he was forced to do just to survive. no one has ever looked at him with something so close to sorrow— not for what he could do, not for what he was capable of, but for what had been done to him.

he does not know what to do with it.

he feels unmoored. untethered. like something inside him is breaking open, spilling out into the quiet space between you.

he has spent his entire life enduring, surviving, weathering the blows as they came. he has been beaten, broken, used, discarded, rebuilt only to be used again.

he has never been seen. he has never been given back to himself.

not until you. not until now.

it is too much.

he cannot hold it. he cannot bear it.

before he can think. before he can stop himself— simon reaches forward, fingers trembling, hesitating at your jaw.

you do not move. you do not pull away.

and it is that, that, which finally undoes him. his breath shudders out of him. his fingers tighten, tilting your chin just slightly, just enough.

and then he kisses you. it is not gentle, not careful. it is desperate, raw, frantic, clumsy.

he does not know how to kiss like a lover. he only knows how to take, how to crave, how to need.

his lips part against yours, rough and unpracticed, like he is searching for something in the press of your mouth, something he cannot name, something he does not know how to ask for.

his fingers curl at the base of your skull, tangled in your hair, gripping tight like he is afraid you might vanish between one breath and the next.

his body trembles, breath shuddering.

he does not know how to be held. but gods, he wants it.

you inhale sharply against his mouth. but you do not stop him. you do not pull away. you let him take. you let him fall apart. you let him grieve.

and for the first time in a long, long time— simon does.

( … )

the festival is a night of fire and revelry.

it is the last night before the season shifts, before the long, unforgiving winter settles its weight upon the empire. the people celebrate while they can. they light the streets with lanterns, hang silks from balconies, lose themselves in the illusion of warmth.

it is beautiful. it is loud. it is also dangerous.

because festivals make for easy hunting grounds.

nobles walk without their usual escorts, growing bold in the comfort of the crowd. wealthy merchants drink too much and wander into unfamiliar alleys, where shadows wait with knives. the scent of sweat and perfume thickens the air, masking other, deadlier things: poison. smoke. blood.

assassins thrive on nights like these.

that is why you must be seen. that is why you must be present. the empire is a beast with a thousand eyes, and all of them must see that you still live.

simon watches you dress.

it is an intimate thing, though it should not be. he stands by the window, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid, but his eyes never leave you.

your attendants work in practiced silence, moving with the precision of ritual. they drape silk over your shoulders, smoothing it down with deft hands, tucking folds. the fabric catches the light of the lanterns, the embroidery shimmering as they fasten the clasps. gold and crimson, the colors of the empire, settle against your frame, woven into the very skin of your station.

you do not fidget beneath their touch. you do not squirm, nor sigh in impatience. you were born for this. you have done this your entire life, moved through these motions since you were old enough to stand. you have worn heavier things.

the weight of the robes is nothing compared to the weight of the empire. you carry both without complaint, standing still as jeweled pins are twisted into your hair, as golden chains are draped around your throat. the attendants murmur their approval, stepping back to admire their work, yet you do not glance at them.

you are watching him.

the mirror catches the flicker of your gaze— amusement, mischief, something softer beneath it all. it holds for just a second, a fleeting moment, but simon catches it nevertheless. he always does.

"what do you think, love?"

his breath stirs in his chest.

he has seen you in battle, streaked with dirt and blood, sword gleaming in the dying light. he has seen you slip out of your armor and into silk, the quiet transition from ruler to something softer. he has watched you sleep, head tipped against his shoulder during long rides back to the capital, the tension momentarily stripped from your features. he has seen you at war. he has seen you at peace.

and yet— nothing prepares him for this.

he swallows, throat dry. "you look beautiful, sweetheart."

the words fall easily, instinctive, pulled from some deep part of him that does not know how to lie to you.

your lips curve. "you think so?"

you step closer, erasing the space between you.

simon exhales. he should move. should put distance between you, should remember what you are, what he is. but his hands betray him, twitching at his sides, aching to hold despite the audience.

"anyone who says otherwise is a liar." his voice is rough, the edges frayed.

the gold at your throat glints as you tip your chin, as you step into his shadow.

he could touch you. he could reach forward, brush his fingers over the silk, let them linger at your wrist, trace the curve of your jaw. you would let him. that is the dangerous thing.

but you are the emperor. even if you are his lover in private, you are still the emperor.

and so he forces himself to step back. to clear his throat. to drag his gaze away, though it costs him. "we should go," he murmurs.

your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer. then, you nod.

duty calls.

( … )

the balcony stretches wide, a throne above the city, a vantage point to watch an empire bask in the last of the season.

below, the streets churn with life, a restless sea of bodies swaying to the erratic rhythm of drums and drunken laughter. lanterns flicker in the warm dusk, their light reflecting in uneven pools along the slick stone roads, catching the movement of dancers, merchants, thieves— all swept up in the fever of celebration. the scent of roasted meat, spiced wine, and burning tallow clings to the humid air.

it should feel victorious.

the banners ripple against the night in proud, royal hues. nobles recline in their velvet seats, wine-stained lips curved in indulgent smirks, watching the revelry below with the satisfaction of those who believe themselves untouchable. safe.

simon knows better.

he stands close behind you, his presence like iron at your back. the worn edges of his armor bite into the leather of his gloves as his fingers flex, restless, his weight shifting just slightly, always prepared to move. his head tilts, gaze flicking across the expanse of celebration below, scanning the rooftop lines, the alley mouths, the high windows where a blade could glint, where an arrow could be notched in silence.

kyle is perched higher, a shadow against the marble pillars, his posture loose but his hand firm around his sword hilt. johnny is closer to the emperor’s council, half-drunk on purpose, draped against a column with a lazy, lopsided grin that does nothing to soften the narrow of his eyes.

the empire breathes.

a scream splits the air.

it is not the shriek of drunken joy, nor the playful yelp of a lover chased through the streets.

the celebration stutters, shudders, the music dying in an awkward, broken note. heads turn. bodies press together, shifting, unsure. the ripple of confusion swells, twisting through the crowd like a current.

then— the arrow.

it cuts through the dark, slicing a perfect arc from the rooftops. too perfect. not a warning shot.

"down!"

simon moves, his arm locking around your waist, his hand pressing firm between your shoulder blades as he wrenches you back, turning his body to shield yours. he feels the air shudder past his cheek as the arrow narrowly misses its mark.

it shatters against stone— and then the air explodes.

the hiss is instant, a sharp burst of pressurized gas erupting in a thick, curling vapor. it blooms.

the scent is overwhelming, sticky-sweet and invasive, creeping into fabric, sinking into breath.

he recognizes it immediately. sex pollen. of course.

simon doesn’t stop moving. his palm slams over your mouth and nose, cutting off your inhale before the drug can take root. he grits his teeth against the stench, doing his damndest to keep his inhales to a minimum.

"scatter!" his voice cuts through the chaos.

"what the fuck is that?!" kyle’s voice, sharp with alarm.

"incoming-! rooftops on the east side buildings!" johnny snarls, sprinting to join kyle's position. "they’re fucking everywhere!"

and then the arrows rain down.

the city breaks open.

simon barely has time to pivot, barely has time to shove you behind him before another shot whizzes past, embedding deep into the wooden railing with a dull thunk.

the gas thickens, curling around ankles, clinging to skin. the first victims drop— moaning, writhing.

the other guards hesitate, recoiling as the realization dawns.

"hold your fucking breath!" simon snarls, dragging you back, his grip vise-tight. he looks at kyle, who has his cloak yanked over his face, his sword unsheathed. "can you hold?"

kyle’s grin is nigh feral. “who the fuck do you think i am?”

simon doesn’t ask any more questions.

you sway, your breath hitches. your body shudders, your pulse a frantic, erratic rhythm against his fingers.

"shit."

you go limp.

simon barely catches you before your legs fold, weight crumpling against his chest.

"go!" kyle barks, already shifting to cover. "get them out!"

simon runs.

"ambush!” simon’s voice is seething growl as he storms into your chambers.

the heavy doors slam against the walls, the sound splitting the air like a crack of thunder. a gust of wind rushes through the room from the force of it, stirring the candle flames, making them flicker and stretch like spectral fingers along the gilded walls. the impact rattles the delicate glassware set on the ornate side tables, sends a tremor through the room, an echo of the storm brewing in his chest.

the guards flinch. one jerks a hand toward his sword, another straightens so quickly that his armor clanks. their confusion fractures as they register the weight in simon’s arms.

you.

unconscious. burning up.

"the emperor-"

"-is not dead." the word snap through the air like steel meeting stone. his grip shifts, an unconscious adjustment, his arms instinctively tightening, bracing against your limp weight, feeling the unnatural heat pulsing off your skin. "seal the area- five-meter perimeter. now."

"the healers-"

"out!" johnny’s voice whips through the chamber. "everyone out- now!"

there is a fraction of a second where the guards hesitate, their training at war with the urge to question, to make sense of this. a heartbeat of stunned silence— then a scramble.

a flurry of movement, boots scraping, armor clanking as the soldiers turn on their heels and spill out into the corridor, their earlier confusion hardening into purpose. the doors groan as they swing shut behind them.

blissful silence. only johnny remains.

he stands still, his gaze searching, moving over every inch of simon’s frame, noticing his jaw is clenched too tight, his fingers curled too hard around the fabric of your robes.

then his eyes flick to the air between them.

the scent.

the ghost of it still lingers, clinging to simon’s armor, the walls, the silk of your clothes. it’s a thick, cloying thing, a sickly-sweet undertone curling at the edges of every breath. faint. diluted. but still, unmistakable.

johnny knows.

“are you-” he stops. adjusts. when he speaks again, his voice is more steady. "will you be okay?"

simon doesn’t answer. he doesn’t want to answer. he has spent years forcing himself to be okay.

the muscles in his shoulders lock, his mind an iron grip around the pulse hammering at his throat. he controls his breathing, controls the way he doesn’t react to the way your body presses against him, the way your fevered skin burns through his armor.

"i'm fine." the words scrape past his teeth, flat and sharp, an order as much as a statement.

johnny exhales. his lips press into something almost like understanding.

almost.

but he doesn’t push.

“right,” he mutters, tipping his head toward the door. “i’ll give you space.”

simon lays you down gently when he reaches your bed. his hands do not tremble, but his pulse is hammering. he watches as your body sinks into the silk sheets, the fever in your skin burning bright even against the cool fabric. your breath is shallow, uneven. the fine tremors wracking your frame are small, delicate, but he sees them— feels them— like aftershocks rippling through his bones.

his fingers brush over your wrist, just long enough to feel the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath too-hot skin.

too fast. too weak.

fuck. he should have been faster.

his jaw locks as he adjusts you, shifting your limbs, trying to ease the unconscious tension wound tight in your muscles. he does not let himself feel the heat radiating from you, does not let himself dwell on the fact that your robes have loosened— because of him, because of the struggle, because of how he carried you.

but the sight is there, in the corner of his vision.

your robes, slipping. your breath, shaking. your body, pliant beneath his hands.

he swallows, hard. inhales. exhales. the scent is still there, thick enough to choke on.

it clings to your skin, curls in the air between you, winds its way into his lungs, refuses to let him take a single breath of clean air. he hates it.

his fingers curl into his palm, blunt nails pressing deep into the skin. tight enough to hurt. tight enough to remind himself that he is still here, still in control, still—

you whimper.

simon stops breathing. his gaze snaps to you and he sees you shifting against the sheets, damp with sweat, slipping further from your shoulder, revealing more. offering more. your thighs press together in a slow, restless motion, and the sight of it sets his veins on fire, makes him want to—

no. not now. not like this.

he tears his eyes away, turns sharply, moves toward the washbasin, his steps too forced. the pitcher clatters against the bowl, the sound too loud.

he grips the cloth too hard. wrings it out too forcefully. watches as water spatters onto the floor, the droplets lost in the ragged sound of your breath behind him.

"simon-" his name falls from your lips, small, raw with something he cannot name.

his.

you.

his.

he turns. he shouldn’t but he does and his hands are on you before he can think better of it, before he can stop himself from giving you what you’re asking for. before he can stop himself from holding you the way you need to be held.

his fingers brush over your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw, the heat beneath your skin burning into him, sinking deep. you shudder at the touch, a quiet, desperate noise slipping past your lips, your body arching ever so slightly into his palm.

you have always been beautiful. but like this— like this, caught in the golden glow of the lantern light, lashes fluttering, lips parted, your breath shallow and uneven— you are devastating.

and it is killing him.

your hands find him, weak and uncoordinated as they are, desperate in their seeking. you clutch at his robes, clinging to him like a lifeline. like he is the only thing anchoring you to the world, the only thing keeping you from slipping into the fever that is devouring you whole.

"simon- everything hurts-"

and he knows. he knows.

his arms tighten around you, his body a wall between you and the suffering threatening to consume you. his lips brush against your temple. "i’ve got you."

and he does.

because he is your guard.

because you are his emperor.

because he has loved you for years, has worshipped at your feet, has devoted himself to you in ways that go beyond duty, beyond reason, beyond anything he has ever known.

because he has no choice. because he would burn the world to the ground before he lets you suffer.

because there is no one else.

the fever is a living thing, burrowing deep, wrapping around your spine, clawing through your veins. you can’t think past it, can’t breathe past it, can’t do anything but tremble beneath the weight of it— beneath him.

simon is blistering against you. sweat beads at his hairline, slicks his chest, makes the muscles in his arms gleam under the dim light. he smells like salt, like heat, like skin rubbed raw. his pulse thrums in his throat, in the thick lines of his forearms where veins stand taut beneath flushed skin, in the solid weight of him pressing against you, pinning you down, keeping you from slipping away into the haze.

your fingers twitch where they claw at his biceps, barely able to grip. you’re shaking, muscles locked tight, spine arched, your thighs trembling where they spread open beneath him.

he notices. of course, he notices.

his hand drags up your side, slow, deliberate, feeling every inch of you. when he reaches your chest, he presses his palm there, right over your sternum, feeling the frantic, stuttering beat of your heart.

he groans.

"fuck," he mutters, breath shuddering out of him.

his forehead knocks against yours, damp skin on damp skin, his nose brushing yours, mouth parted against your cheek. you can feel his breath, feel the ragged shake of it, the way it stutters when his cock twitches against you.

he wants.

so do you.

you choke out something wrecked, something that isn’t even a word, just a sound— high and thin and pleading.

his jaw goes tight. his fingers flex against your chest, the other hand anchoring itself to your hip, gripping firm, holding you steady.

"breathe," he rasps.

you try. you fail.

his cock drags against your hole, the head catching, nudging, pressing— but not sinking in. not yet.

you whine, twitching beneath him, muscles jerking, nails digging into his arms.

simon’s breath stutters.

"shit," he mutters, voice frayed, breaking apart. his teeth sink into his bottom lip, his whole body coiled.

you reach for him— sliding trembling hands up, over the broad slope of his shoulders, the thick column of his neck. your fingers curl there, feeling his throat works, swallowing hard, pulse pounding against your fingertips.

he’s barely hanging on.

you can break him.

"please," you whisper, soft.

his restraint shatters.

his hips surge forward. his cock sinks in, thick and hot, stretching you wide.

you cry out.

his hand clamps over your mouth. "quiet," he hisses, his own voice barely above a rasp. his breath shakes, his whole body trembles.

his cock throbs deep inside you. you can feel every inch of him, every pulse, every twitch. he holds still, his hand pressed tight to your mouth, his forehead still resting against yours, panting.

"fuckin’ hell.”

his rhythm crumbles. thrusts turn wild, erratic, slamming too hard, dragging too slow. he groans, forehead pressed against yours, breath pouring over your lips, damp and shaking.

"fuck," he grits out, voice breaking. his jaw clenches, his whole body shuddering. "you're-"

he doesn't finish. just moves, just takes.

his hands clutch at your hips, fingers bruising, digging in like he needs to feel every inch of you, like he needs to own it, like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he lets up even for a second. but you don’t slip away. you pull him in.

"si," you gasp, voice shredded. "more-"

he hisses through his teeth, hips snapping forward, cock sinking deep. a shudder rolls through him, his whole body locking up for a second.

his thumb strokes over your mouth, pressing down on your lower lip, teasing the wet heat of your tongue. he watches, eyes blown wide, pupils swallowing the color.

"fuckin’ love this mouth," he mutters, slurred. "love how you-"

you cut him off, dragging his thumb in deeper, sucking. his breath stutters.

"christ," he groans.

his hips stutter too, cock pulsing inside you. he drags his thumb free, watches the wet shine of it, then slides it down, presses against where you're stretched around him, feels the way your body grips him tight.

"you feel that?" he grinds in, slow and cruel, lets you feel every inch of him. "feel how fuckin’ deep i am?"

your head kicks back, breath breaking apart.

"yeah," he rasps, voice dropping. "fuckin'- yeah, you do."

his hand snakes up, finds your throat, fingers curling around it, not squeezing, just holding. just feeling your pulse jackhammers against his touch.

"si," you gasp, hands scrambling over his back, nails dragging over sweat-slick skin.

"yeah," he mutters. "know, baby, know."

he drives in deep, grinds his hips, feels your whole body trembles around him. your muscles lock up, your back bows, a sound rips from your throat— wrecked, helpless.

he groans, hips moving faster, harder, cock dragging in and out, every stroke hitting deep, every thrust pushing you higher.

"gonna come?" his grip tightens, hand on your throat, holding you still.

"please," you gasp.

his body shudders. a sharp breath leaves him, like the sound alone is too much, like hearing you beg is about to ruin him.

"then fuckin’-" his voice catches, breaks. his hips snap forward, slamming in, grinding. "-fuckin’ do it."

and you do.

it doesn’t creep up on you. doesn’t build slow. it crashes.

the pressure snaps like a wire pulled too tight, heat igniting in your spine, exploding outward, everything pulling tight, then breaking apart, shattering you from the inside out. the world vanishes. sound cuts out. your body locks up so hard you can’t even breathe.

your muscles spasm around him, sucking him deeper, milking him. your thighs tremble. your fingers claw at his back, at his arms, at anything you can reach. your lips part on a cry but nothing comes out— just raw pleasure, a wrecked thing too big to hold in.

his breath shudders, chest caving in against yours, every muscle in his body strung tight.

"fuck, fuck," he chokes, almost a whimper.

his hips snap forward, frantic, a few more sloppy thrusts before he breaks. his whole body seizes up, cock throbbing deep inside you, heat spilling hot and thick, filling you up. he groans against your skin, hips jerking, grinding through it, holding you open for him, pushing in as deep as he can go.

he trembles. his forehead presses into your shoulder, his hands shake where they clutch at your body, holding you there, grounding himself in the feel of you.

his breath is ragged.

his chest heaves.

his arms stay locked around you, keeping you pressed close, keeping you his.

and he still doesn’t pull out.

[simplyholl]

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.

Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.

Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.

He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. You’d argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then you’d be back at it the second it was over.

This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. “Not a fucking word.” He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.

The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.

After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. You’re gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. “Not that I’d have a problem with it, but if you don’t want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.” Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.

Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “What did he say?” You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. “Our coordinates show that we aren’t far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.”

“All our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?” You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. “No, Princess. We aren’t going out after this.”

He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. “Princess” wouldn’t be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.

He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. “If you don’t stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.”

Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.

A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. “It’s locked.” He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.

Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.

You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. “Was that poison?” You ask him, scared for what was to come. “How the hell should I know?” His hateful reply pissed you off. “I’m so angry that I’m gonna die with you of all people!”

“I’m not. I can’t wait to watch you take your last breath. I’ll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.” You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didn’t sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. “He sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.”

When you arrive at the safe house, you’re actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.

Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. “I got good news and bad news, kiddos.” He waits a second before speaking again. “The good news is, you’re not going to die.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at that revelation. “The bad news is it was a sex drug.” Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna assume, you don’t know what I mean?” You both shake your heads as Tony continues. “Well, the sex drug enhances all your senses. You’re going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. You’ll feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you don’t have sex. Don’t bother touching yourselves, that won’t work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.” Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.

He looks at his watch. “You should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.” He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.

You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you can’t take it anymore. “Do you think he’s right?” Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. “Yeah, he wouldn’t lie to us.” You take a deep breath. “We have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?”

“Im going to take a shower and go to bed.” You look at him incredulously. “Bucky, he said we will die if we don’t have sex. There’s gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.” You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. And I’m sure as hell not fucking you.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me. But we don’t have a choice.” You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.

You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.

You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. It’s locked. You beat your fists against the door. “Bucky let me in. I’ll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend I’m someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.”

He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. He’s naked, his hard cock on full display. “Bucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I can’t take this.” He doesn’t say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, you’re surprised they haven’t cut through your tank top.

“If we are doing this, we do it my way.” He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. “What are you doing with that?” You ask wide eyed. “Shut the fuck up.” He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.

He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.

He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. “God, Princess, you’re soaked.” He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. “Bucky! What’s with the gun?” He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. “I don’t want to touch you yet.” He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.

Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. It’s covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. “You taste so good, Princess.”

You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. You’re dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like he’s ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.

He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. “Fuck.” He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.

Bucky’s movements are erratic. He’s like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. You’re a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.

He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.

You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. “I hate you.” He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. “I hate you too.” You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.

Tags in the comments ❤️

[tetzoro]

HELP ME HELP YOU — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. dick grayson !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : poison ivy has been flying under the radar and weaponizing her pollen to fellow criminals. it’s a shame you and dick find out the hard way.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. dub-con bc of sex pollen (they’ve both been pining for each other tho), dry humping, slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving, 69, face sitting), cum eating, multiple orgasms, missionary, mating press, cowgirl, pet names (baby, pretty), praise, creampies, mentions of breeding, light impact play (slaps your thigh once), begging, mentions of sweat and saliva, slight overstimulation, almost pure smut tbh it’s just filth — WC : 6.1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : mind the tags !! i’ve been wanting to write a sex pollen fic for so long i’m so excited i finally did it ! enjoy !!

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

another drizzly night in gotham, filled with blaring police sirens and a heavy dose of crime. patrol was going as planned for the most part. apprehending a few criminals here and there, but nothing major. to dick, it was a semi-quiet night. one that left him reflecting on his life or rather, his recent choices.

truth be told, he had missed gotham. even though it wasn’t in a much better state when he had left, a large part of him knew he belonged here. bludhaven had been a good experience for him to try and break away, start his own thing. but when it came down to it, he missed it here. missed the people here, some more than others.

dick eventually got a tip from tim, stating that there were a couple of criminals causing a scene a few blocks down the road. he made it there quickly, only to run into you.

normally, it wasn’t a rare sight to see you out on patrol at the same time as him, but lately, it’s been harder to be around you. he knew he was developing feelings for you, no, he already had feelings for you. but it was all so confusing. the two of you had been friends for so long, since you were teenagers.

but then he left and you stayed. even though he’s been back for about a month, it still feels like he doesnt get to see enough of you. and when he’s finally around you, he just doesn’t know how to act anymore. 

“and here i thought you’d never show up, nightwing.” you tease, getting ready to apprehend the criminals that were trying to make their next move. he easily side stepped to get into a closer range to them, ready to bring them down with you. but truthfully, a large part of his focus wasn’t on them at all.

“you know i can never resist.” he smirks. the two of you start fighting off the criminals, landing quick, steady punches. 

“resist showing off, you mean.” you scoff, swinging your fist around, lodging it in one of the criminals' sides.

“ouch,” dick takes out one of his batons, twirling it around in his hand before using it against one of the enemies. “and here i was going to help you out of the goodness of my heart, my mistake.”

the two of you move in sync, your fighting styles mimicking each other as you attempt to take down the criminals. even though it’s been awhile, the two of you mesh well together just like old times.

“why don’t you sit back and watch how it’s done, boy wonder.” you drop down, palm hitting the pavement as you dodge an incoming attack. you use the momentum to sweep your feet under the apprehender, knocking him on his back. 

“i must’ve struck a nerve for you to use that nickname on me.” he smirked, trying to see how far he can crawl under your skin. the criminals were still trying to fight you both, but it was a cakewalk for him. he’d rather just stand around and tease you all night if he could.

“you’re always on my nerves.” you huff, pushing a villain off of you, watching them hobble backwards before you ready for another attack.

“gotta get your attention somehow, don’t i?” he hit one of the criminals in the gut, trying to swiftly take him down.

before you can retort, you hear something clink to the floor near dick before gas starts to surround it. you both pause, attention shifting on the strange device. the criminals use the momentary lapse to their advantage.

“that’ll keep them busy for awhile.” one of the criminals snicker as they make their escape. you take a step towards them but dick holds you back, his hand gripping onto you.

something felt like it was crawling up his spine, a heat that grew more the longer he touched you. 

“what are you doing?” you question him, ripping your arm from his hold. but then he realized, not touching you sent spikes of pain throughout his body, yearning for some sort of relief that he didn’t know how to get.

he tries to shake it off to focus on the task at hand, pressing against his ear piece, trying to contact tim.

“nightwing.” tim greets as he presses the button. dick crouches down to look at the device the criminals threw, your eyes tracking his movements with curiosity. “report?”

“looks like the criminals threw a toxin at us, i’m not sure what it is but it let out a puff of gas when it hit the ground. judging by the design of it i’d say,” dick pauses, eyes widening as he flips it over in the palm of his hand. a small, green plant painted onto the side of the device. “ivy.”

“alright, report back to the batcave. there’s been rumors that she’s been weaponizing her special pollen so we will have an antidote ready. did anyone else get hit? or are you alone?” tim replies, typing away on his keyboard.

dick looks over at you, holding your gaze for a moment. his mouth feels dry, words lodged in his throat as his body shivers. he tells tim he’s with you.

“dick, whatever you do, do not give into any urges, okay? christ, i didn’t know she’d be out on patrol too, she wasn’t even scheduled.” the frustration in his voice is tinged with anxiety and panic, knowing fully well the extent of getting hit by ivy’s pollen. “both of you get back here immediately. signing off.”

“affirmative.” dick nods, letting tim break the line for now. his eyes hadn’t left yours and he watched as you back up towards the wall behind you. he mirrors your movements, his thoughts growing hazier by the second. his more primal urges start to fight logic, a new battle unfolding in his mind.

he holds onto the wall, planting his back firmly against it as his hands form a fist. the sensation is back again, prickling under his skin like an itch he can’t scratch. it’s driving him mad, sweat starting to coat his body. everything was hot, searing. any self control he had was quickly slipping through his fingers, his heart racing out of his chest. 

even looking at you seems to make it worse, so he keeps his head against the wall, looking up at the dark sky as he tries to find the strength to move. he needs a plan, something to grasp and ground him to reality before he throws caution to the wind and takes you right here in this alleyway.

so he decides he just… won’t give in. that’s it, he’ll stay on this side of the wall while you stay on the other and then you go back to the cave and get the antidote. perfect.

“dickie.” or well, it would’ve been. his attention reluctantly goes over to you as you use his nickname, eyes burning trying to keep them on your face. but the way your voice sounded, the lilt of desperation packed into it had him curious. his eyes trail down your body, watching the way your chest heaves up and down, your thighs clenching together.

“yeah?” he swallows, eyes averting to the ground, his fingers curling deeper into his fist until he’s sure his nails are about to break the skin. 

“it hurts.” you all but whimper and his resolve cracks in half. it was always his dream to be your hero, to be someone you look up to and respect. being your knight in shining armor and eventually wooing you over one day. with the way your voice sounded, he needed to save you, do anything to make you feel better. seeing you in pain like this clawed at his heart, leaving his chest wide open. “please, i don’t know what to do.”

he’s never seen you look so helpless. you’ve always had an air of confidence about you whenever you put on your suit. you took being a hero seriously, one of the many things he admired about you. but this? he’s never seen you like this. and it stirred something within him.

he swallows thickly, trying to grab control of his thoughts once again, gripping onto logic even though the pollen was directly challenging it. one by one, another decent thought slips out of his hold and is instantly replaced with one that was much more improper. the kind of thoughts he’s tried his best to repress, especially when it comes to you.

“i know.” he says, tim’s word of caution fleeting from his mind. pressing himself off against the wall, he bounds over to you, finding himself directly in front of you, his palm pressed against the wall by your head. you gasp and it takes every last bit of him to not devour your sweet sounds. “fuck, we have to get back to the cave.”

your eyes flutter shut as his words breathe across your face, the raspy tone from his voice luring you in. 

“please.” you say again, the words barely above a whisper.

the rubber band snaps and the tension breaks, your bodies surging towards each other, clicking into place as your lips finally collide. the pollen saturating every nerve in your body, an overwhelming tsunami threatening to consume you and take him down with you.

but he wasn’t faring any better. his hands were shaking with need, his movements clumsy, not because they weren’t practiced, but because he had never needed anything more in his life.

he kisses you with a bruising force he usually reserves for when he fights, unable to hold himself back as the pollen dances throughout his veins chanting more, more, more.

visions invade his mind, betraying all the walls he’s so carefully put in place over the years. the amount of times he’s dreamed of having you, the amount of times he’s fisted his cock to the thought of you, was all coming to a burning point. if he didn’t have you now, it felt like his body would disintegrate. 

a groan rips from his throat, rumbling against your lips as he tries to devour you. his hands roam all over your body, almost kneading against every part of you to get a proper feel. but it wasn’t enough.

“have to feel you, please- need you closer.” he manages to choke out, his plump lips swollen with your passion, his dark blue eyes blown all the way out into a dark, stormy abyss. with a small nod of your head, he’s pushing you against the wall, slipping his thigh between your legs. he grinds against your hips, seeking out any sort of relief while also trying to provide you some.

the kiss is hardly graceful — teeth clashing against each other, trying to consume the other. there’s no fight for dominance, no careful hesitance, just pure unabridged desperation. he feels you reach for your mask, already trying to take off anything that serves as a barrier between you and him.

“f-fuck, wait, keep your mask on. we can’t-“ he didn’t finish the sentence as you rolled your hips against him instead, body jerking in his hold. somehow the gravity of the situation rings in his head for a moment. “shit, wait, we should talk about this, right?”

“we’re just helping each other out,” you gasp, kissing along his jaw. your fingers dig into his biceps, voice straining as you try to keep yourself together for a moment. “it hurts so much, i can’t stand it. help me and i’ll help you.”

“can’t say no to that logic.” he picks you up, pressing you against the wall as he presses his aching cock to your core. the relief it brought had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, gripping onto you tighter as his body reacts in a way it’s never done before.

he grinds against your clothed cunt, the fabric of your suits making it easier to hurriedly slide against each other. he wishes he could feel how tightly you’d wrap around him instead of this but he needed release now, and this was the quickest way to get it.

and you’re just as bad as him, bucking your hips against him to gain any sort of friction, your hands pawing all over his body.

“please-“ you whine in his ear, “stop teasing me, let me feel you.” your body felt on fire, something crackling just beneath the surface. the friction you were getting wasn’t enough, giving you pleasure but you also craved more.

“c-can’t.” he gasps, moving his hips faster as he feels a high coming on. “m’close.”

it was all building up deep within him, pleasure fighting pain and hurtling him towards the unknown. but he knew it would help, god, he knew anything with you would save him somehow.

his aching cock was still pressed up against the tight suit he had on, throbbing and pulsing as if it was trying to make its great escape. but the sound of your moan brought him back to the moment, the sweet mewl tumbling out of your lips as you reach your high. it sends him over the edge, cumming in his suit, hips stuttering against yours.

after a moment to catch your breath, you look at each other. the pain and fire are still as strong as ever, in fact, it might even be worse now. he needs to be inside you, feeling your warm walls hold onto him as he releases load after load deep within you.

“we need to-.” he pauses, breath hitching as you start rubbing against him again. the words die in his throat, no longer thinking of the batcave and the antidote. 

“i need more, please we can’t stop here.” you whine, looking up at him. whatever you were doing felt so good, feeding into the unstoppable desire that ignited in him. 

“we need to find somewhere to go.” he decides, holding onto you tightly.

“there’s a safehouse close by.” you suggest and suddenly it was like a veil was lifted. the fog cleared, and all he could see was you. your unfocused eyes, the way you pawed at him, he knew exactly what to do.

“i know the one, let’s go.” he grabs your hand, practically running down the street with you dragging behind him. but you manage to keep up with him. he’s relieved that no one is really out here, even though the night life was never tame in gotham, he considered it a small blessing that the streets were somewhat quiet tonight.

the safehouse was nestled in between a slew of apartments. he easily grabbed the key from under the mat and shoved the door open, the hinges yelling in protest. he all but pushes you inside, slamming the door shut and sealing you both in.

your body hits the door as soon as he closes it, his brute strength easily manhandling you into any position he wants. you were more than ready for it, wrapping your legs around his waist as your heels dig into his perfect ass, pulling him closer.

he groans as you roll your hips against his, trying to get closer to his straining cock. depravity takes over as you're practically humping against each other, shimming out of your suits. some part of you had to still be touching him —  your lips, your hands, anything.

finally, you’re both freed of your restricting clothing, ripping it down just enough so he could gain better access to you, barely caring that he was shredding your hero suit. but it didn’t seem like you minded either as your nails raked against his chest.

“you ready for me?” he fists his aching cock, throbbing and glistening with his cum. the tip was so red, you wondered if he was in any pain — or if it matched the same one you felt in between your thighs. 

“hurry, need you to-” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. 

dick slipped into you with one rough shove, filling you all the way up in one delicious motion. you gasp, throwing your head back into the door at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off of the wooden panel.

“sorry, baby.” his arm slips around your waist, his palm spreading along your back for support. “s’okay, you’re okay, yeah?”

he doesn’t move for a moment to try to let you adjust, his body practically screaming at him for waiting. but he felt so weak for you, couldn’t help but start rocking his hips. it didn’t take long for his urges to take over. 

his hands pushed down onto your waist, steadying himself so he could get deeper. the only thought that crossed his mind was how good you felt, how well you took him — and it only made him more determined to make you fall apart just like you were making him.

why had he waited so long to make a move? he could’ve done this sooner, years ago. it pissed him off, frustrated he’s gone so long without knowing how good your cunt felt wrapped around his cock. the anger only intensifies his thrusts, the door rattling behind you in protest.

“s-slow down!” you cry out, not really thinking of what you were saying. the last thing you wanted was for him to slow down, but everything felt so fast, so overwhelming that your brain couldn’t keep up with it.

“that’s not what you really want.” he grunts out, lips latching onto your neck. he needed to leave little marks on you. a reminder for him that this is really happening, that this is real. he’s finally fucking you. “you’re so tight, you feel so good f’me.”

“all for you, only for you.” you start to babble, drunk off the sensation he‘s feeding you. your legs wrap tighter around his waist, driving him deeper than he already was. his pace stutters for a second, his release already sneaking up on him. “ah- m’already close!”

“me too, baby.” he breathes, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard it. “please let me cum inside, need to fill you up and breed this pretty pussy.”

you clench around his words, nodding your head profusely, body tightening as electricity shoots through your body as you cum around his cock. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues to thrust into you, desperately chasing his own release.

“yes, yes, need it, please!” you moan, practically milking his cock. once you give him the okay, he drives as deep as he can and lets out a broken moan as he fills you up.

“shit.” he grunts out, his breathing far out of his control. he lowers you down, letting you land on your feet. but you can hardly stand, his grip tight on your elbows to keep you upright. the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, trying to process what just happened, what’s currently happening. intense need swarms his mind again and pain spreads throughout his body with every passing second he isn’t inside of you.

instinctively, you drop to your knees, your hand lightly grasping around his slick base. dick lets out a hiss of pleasure, tossing his head back as he feels the slight essence of reprieve. 

“need you in my mouth,” you look up at him, slowly pumping his cock. he twitches in your hand with interest, the sex pollen still sending his body into overdrive. he doesn’t even feel overstimulation, all he feels is lust and the overwhelming need to wreck you.

“go ahead, baby.” you wrap your lips around his cock, hollowing out your cheeks as you get right to work. his eyes roll back and he needs to grip onto the back of your head for support — otherwise he’d fall backwards. “damn, knew you’d be good at this, always running your sweet little mouth whenever you’re around me. feels like heaven.”

you hum in approval, the sensation tickling his tip. you take him in deeper, your hands grabbing onto his ass for support.

“fuck, baby.” he mutters under his breath. normally, you probably wouldn’t have heard it, but the pollen heightened all of your senses when it came to him. his voice sounded so raspy, so desperate, it had you squeezing your thighs together. “please don’t tease me right now or i’ll fuck you against the wall again.”

so you don’t, swallowing his whole length, your pretty eyes filling up with tears as you look up at him. he feels like he’s going to pass out — his head is fuzzy, his thighs are trembling, you have him under your spell and a primitive part of him is screaming at him to fix it.

“i’m gonna cum.” he moans, gripping your hair. he almost lets himself, but it wouldn’t feel fair. he needed you to cum with him. the two of you were in this together. he pushes you off of him, regret already swarming his body as the pollen viciously attacks him again.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, wiping the spit that was pooling in the corner of your mouth. he picked you up, bringing you over to the couch.

“i have to taste you.” he tosses you on the couch, “so you’re gonna sit on my face.”

the way he said it doesn’t leave any room for argument so for once, you listen to him. watching as he sits next to you on the couch. your bodies pivot so he’s laying down instead of you, an eager smile on his face. 

you climb on top of him, going to move your hips over his eagerly awaiting mouth. but he’s impatient, the need to taste you on his tongue is too great. hastily grabbing your hips, he pulls you down on his face. you yelp in surprise, nails digging into his abs to ground yourself. he doesn’t waste a second, diving into the delicious meal you’ve presented him.

even without you touching him, he started to feel his own relief by swirling his tongue around your clit. his hips thrust in the air, unable to control himself. your moans and small gasps of pleasure fuel him to keep going, not planning on stopping until he’s gotten his fill.

he groans into your cunt as you start to take his leaking cock in your warm hands, focusing on his tip. you lean over his body as he holds you firmly in place so you can pull him back in your mouth, engulfing him in an instant.

his hips involuntary jerks up, pushing himself deeper and eliciting a gag from you. he would feel bad but with the way you gushed around his tongue told him otherwise.

“god, you taste incredible.” he mumbles, making sure he’s not missing a drop. but honestly, it’s too much. your slick mixed with his cum has his mind spiraling — the taste settling on his tongue, nestling deep into his senses.

it was all a haze, trying to devour every drop of you, gripping onto your thighs so tightly that if he was thinking more clearly, he might feel bad. but the way your tongue wraps around his cock, your throat enveloping it all the way down, leaves him with very little coherent thoughts.

but he couldn’t stop lapping at your cunt, every tremble, every moan, every taste of you has him wanting more and he knew that this wouldn’t be enough — it might never be enough. you’ve created an insatiable beast that only craves your touch.

“dick, i’m gonna cum-.” you take a gulp of air, using your hand to furiously pump his cock, fingers dancing around his tip as you usher out your words. a flare of pride spikes up with him and shoots throughout his body, his hand getting away from him as he encouragingly slaps against your thigh.

“please, baby. come all over my face.” he knows he sounds wrecked but he doesn’t care. he gets back to work, suckling on your clit more intently than before. your mewls vibrate along his length and he can’t help but thrust into your mouth a little, overly excited at the prospect of you releasing all over him. 

he helps you ride his face, guiding your movements by his grip on your thighs. with a cry of his name, you cum again, gushing all over him. at this point, he could die a happy man, cleaning you up as your thighs shake in his palms.

he’s not sure if it was your skilled mouth, your messy cunt, or the fact he managed to pull that strong of an orgasm from you — but he came in your hand that was still rubbing at his tip.

“f-fuuuuuck.” he moans out, hips jerking in your hold. after a few minutes, he feels you slide off of his face, pivoting yourself and sitting on the couch, head hanging off the back of it.

it had to be over, right? all of the pollen should be out of your systems. he sat up and mirrored your movements, looking over at you to see how you were faring. and you were already looking over at him, half lidded eyes as you were catching your breath. your skin was glistening in sweat, much like his own.

the itch creeped up his neck, sending chills over his body. it definitely wasn’t done and the agony of not touching you anymore was starting to get to his head. he lunges over to you, pinning you on the couch as he lines up his cock once again.

“god, i need to have you.” he breathes, searching your eyes to see if you feel as messed up as he does.

“you’ve got me.” you mewl before looking up and adding, “you’ve always had me.”

“really?” disbelief coats his words, somehow managing to pause his motions even though his body is screaming at him. the fire inside of him is licking at the tightly wound coil within him, but somehow he’s able to push it down — even if it’s just for a moment. but he needs to hear this, needs to hear you.

“i’ve-” you start squirming under him, no doubt feeling that same fire he did. he almost felt a little bad by delaying your gratification but god, he really needs this. he can’t tell if the tears forming in your eyes are from the pollen or from the emotion that’s been building up after all these years.  “i’ve always loved you dick.”

his hormones fly out of control, his hold tightening against you. every nerve in his body tells him to move but he’s somehow frozen, transfixed on your confession. 

“i love you so much.” he manages to choke out, desire boiling in his gut once again, fueled by the sweet words he’s been dying to hear from you. it was too much, the overwhelming itch consuming him once again as “fuck, ‘m sorry, need to-.”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, instead he’s plunging into your warm, welcoming walls. fitting together like a puzzle piece that was always destined to connect. the pollen swirls with the love shared between you two and he can’t help but ruthlessly drive into you, relishing in your sharp cries of pleasure.  

his cock slips out of you, exasperated groans both leaving your lips and into each others mouth. he reluctantly pulls apart from you, shoving himself back where he belongs before he resumes his pace.

“dick, more-.”

something shatters within him. he couldn’t say it was self control — that had long been gone. but something else deep within him broke by your hands and yet, he could already feel you mending it back up.

there’s no way to tell the passage of time, but none of that mattered to him anyway. all he could do was revel in the warmth of your soft, silken walls. his eyes scan over your face, taking in your blissed out state no doubt mirroring his own.

it had him wanting — craving more. like a man starved who had his first bite, who wouldn’t be sated until he had his fill.

dick’s movements were even faster now that his body could hardly keep up. his cock slipped out of you again, and he let out a strangled sob.

everything was just so wet, both of your bodies coated in a mixture of sweat, spit and cum. he felt your slick coat his thighs, your saliva mark his neck — every inch of his skin is completely covered by your essence.

he drives himself back into you, humping against you as he chases another release. everything was burning up the longer he staved off. at this point, he needed to keep filling you up. you made it so easy for him too, greedily sucking him back in every thrust, squeezing around him so tightly his head was spinning.

driven by pure instinct, he pushes your thighs against your chest, pushing himself deeper into you. 

“wanna take my time with you s’badly.” he rasps out, hands pushing against your legs. “but you just feel s’good i can’t stop.”

his mouth hung open as unsteady breaths left his lungs, trying to gulp up any air he could. but he’d much rather breathe in the sight below him, watching you sprawled out for him, sucking him into your pretty cunt has his mind short circuiting.

“you take me so well, you’re so good to me.” he babbles, eyes squeezed shut for a moment to soak it all in. “you were made f’me.”

his head falls forward and he feels a bead of sweat drop down the side of his face. your trained eye watched it fall, before you lean up and lick it clean off of him. he gasps in surprise, lips chasing yours once again.  

at this point, you really couldn’t call it kissing. your lips were pressed against each other but neither of you could move them properly. just unsteady breaths and moans keeping the two of you connected as pleasure overrides your senses.

arousal pours like gasoline beneath his abdomen, your pleas serving as a match to ignite his body into flames. the pollen warps his mind, drunk on your taste and only craving more of it. 

but he needed you to cum first. he was still trying his best to help you, to relieve you of any pain. he doesn’t know how long it’ll take but he needs you to at least cum as much as he does. 

“oh god, oh, it’s never, fuck, felt like this before, so good-“ you moan out, arching your back up so he can get deeper. 

“i know baby, i know.” he keeps going, harder than he had before. “you’re so, so good to me.”

it was all too much for you, clinging onto him as he relentlessly thrusts into you. he watches as your body freezes in his grasp, bliss saturating all your features, before you forcefully come around his cock.

he wasn’t much further behind, gripping the back of the couch and pushing his hips flush against yours as he fills you up once again. 

the pollen was still tingling in his system, he could feel it. but he felt so drowsy, and he knew you were too. he presses his forehead against yours as your legs fall helplessly by his sides.

“you okay?” he can hardly recognize his own voice.

“mhm, you?” you ask, your eyes fluttering shut for a second. he sees your face constrict with pain and he knows you feel what he feels. it’s not over yet.

“can you handle another round?” he asks, gently caressing your cheek, wiping off what was either sweat or tears. it took so much not to jump you, but the desire was starting to lessen and becoming easier to control, but that didn’t change the fact he was still so damn weak around you. one more round would soothe it all, he can feel it.

“can you?” you laugh breathlessly, always trying to challenge him. a lazy smirk takes up his face as he adjusts you, sitting back against the couch and pulling you up into his lap. his fingers rub little circles along your hips before he digs his fingers in.

“since you’re so confident, why don’t you show me how it’s done.” he meant to sound cocky, but his voice came out twisted with need and desperation.

“with pleasure.” you grab a hold of his still hard cock, lining it up with your sopping entrance, cum from the previous rounds dripping down your thigh. he can’t help but swipe some on his finger, playing with the slightly sticky substance.

you slide down on his cock, moaning the entire way down. all he can do is look up at you, unconsciously sliding the two coated fingers in your open mouth.

you swirl your tongue around them, sucking them clean as well as you were sucking him off earlier. he moans, head hitting the back of the couch as you start rolling your hips.

“you’re so pretty — fuck — i mean, just look at you.” he slurs, eyes glued to where you were connected. his fingers leave your mouth, sliding down your body. “you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, using it as leverage to grind yourself more in his lap, his neatly trimmed pubic hair brushing along your swollen clit.

he slumps back a bit, letting you take control and take what you need. mesmerized by the way your tits jiggle with each movement, he wraps his tongue around your nipple before giving it a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

he was lazy with his movements, swirling his tongue around the perked bud and nuzzling his face against it. the more he touches them, the more he needs to. 

your hips drag along his, bodies pressed together as it feels like lead fills your bones. but you can’t stop moving against him.

“want you to be mine.” he moans against your tits, thrusting up into you more as he feels himself getting close. all he needs to hear is your confirmation that you’ll finally be his. “say you’ll be mine.” 

“m’yours!” your cry out at the increase of pace, fingers digging into his hair as he leaves his mark all over your breasts. “i’m all yours.”

with one final groan, his hips jerk up a few times, releasing another load into your already overflowing cunt. the grip on your hips loosen as his forehead lands on your shoulder, wincing as you keep going to chase your release. overstimulation was starting to creep up on him as the pollen started to clear out of his system. but he didn’t care, he’d keep going as long as you need him to.

“c’mon baby.” he slurs, leaving open mouthed kisses along your collarbone before looking up at you like you summon the sun every morning, beaconing it with your radiant, blissed out smile. “you’re doing s’good for me, give me another one c’mon.”

“cant, i’m trying but i need more.” you move your hips a little faster with a whine of his name tumbling from your lips.

“i’m right here, fuck baby, let go f’me. you’ll feel so much better i promise.” his fingers slip in between your bodies, thumb pressing firmly against your clit as you keep riding him. it sends you over the edge, gripping onto his shoulders and tossing your head back. he’s never seen a more ethereal view and if he could’ve, he would’ve cum all over again at the sight alone.

he doesn’t move his thumb as you ride out your high, squirming around in his lap as pleasure courses throughout your body. he lets go after you start twitching in his grasp, showing you mercy for the first time tonight.

you collapse into a heap on his chest, your heart racing as you try to catch your breath. he feels you curl into him, exhaustion starting to take you. he’s still nestled inside of you, with no desire to move. 

he blinks a few times, starting to take in his surroundings. you guys definitely messed up the couch. anyone who passes through this safehouse will see the traces you two left behind for weeks to come. the thought makes him smirk a little bit.

his phone buzzes and somewhere deep in his fucked out mind he realizes he should check. he’s still technically on patrol. with one arm still securing tucked around you, he uses the other to grab his phone.

everything is a little blurry, the fog still clouding his mind, his eyes drooping as he tries to read it. your soft snores start to fill his ears as he opens the text from tim, reading the line over and over a few times in hopes of processing it better. but then he gets it — clear as day. it was from tim.

“let me guess. you stopped at a safehouse.”

another text.

“have fun explaining this one to bruce.”

taglist : @the-tenth-shadow @petriquors @boogiebooboo @lucifersidepiece @oikawabi-sabi @collin-thegreat ᰔ

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

OMG I have an idea

What if a villain hit reader with a love potion and the Yandere JL has to deal with reader being obsessed with one of them until it wears off🙏🙏😭(I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR YAN JL WORKDGHBJB)

A Day in Life: Love Pollen

Synopsis: A day in your life where you get hit with love pollen, get kidnapped, and are rescued by the Justice League.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; PDA; Dry humping; Kinda public sex bc they're in a deserted island’s beach, so it's basically out in the open but no one’s around; Dubcon/noncon bc, you know, love-and-kinda-sex pollen; Also maybe drugging bc of that; Writer is the Justice League's weakness; Hal Jordan is a little shit; Needles; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,1k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I imagine the League’s marketing will have a hard time after this little stunt, I mean, there's no way no one caught that on camera

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The Legion of Doom had a plan. They invaded a political event in Metropolis, with the presence of the Justice League as the president’s security team, the League being the target. First, Poison Ivy release pollen throughout the whole city, as a distraction, making people hallucinate that they were in love with one another. Crazy in love. It would be okay, if her experiment didn't cause chaos. All over the streets, some people were having sex out in the open, some were fighting and killing because of jealousy and cheating, some were committing robberies to give their “loved ones”. It was pure chaos and only the quick reflexes, powers and gadgets from the League spared the team from getting hit.

Half the team went to deal with the distraction, saving and restraining people, giving them the antidote, etc. The other half, took care of the villains. After a few hours, the Legion of Doom was taken down and the city’s security and health workers took over the job, the chaos being a lot easier to contain since they were spreading the antidote through the air, it would take at least an hour to spread it throughout the whole city, and then the ones who somehow weren't able to breath it, but mostly, just the mess left behind was the real issue.

You were standing with the rest of the crew on the event, watching the League and the politicians discoursing for the press and TV. When the mayhem started, for the first few seconds, you got startled and froze. Looking between the League, the scared crowd, and the villains invading the place. Suddenly, you breathed some thick smoke and your eyes shot to the heroes, silently urging them to do something, when your eyes locked on Green Lantern’s, the pollen’s effect kicked in. You got dizzy, something snapped, and then everything changed.

Wait, when did Green Lantern's jaw got so sharp? And his muscles so defined? Oh, and he was so big and tall. Did he do something to his hair? Wow, his ring is glowing now and he's flying. He's so cool and powerful. A true hero. Shit, he's coming in my direction. Hehe, he's using a construct to lift me and my coworkers to a safer place as if it was nothing. Imagine flying with him every day. How does he look without the mask? Ugh, must be perfect, if his jaw and lips were anything to go by. I can't even see the color of his eyes! And- and please stop looking me in the eyes and touching my shoulders and asking me if I'm okay, of course I am, I'm with you. No. Nooo. Come back here! Let the others deal with the bad guys, I'm right hereee! Nooooo!

You were depressed and deflated the whole time your soulmate was away. A journalist team from outside the city arrived at some point and you were able to watch the fight — Normally, Lois Lane would do the transmission, but she's too busy making out with her cameraman, she was in the crowd too. —. You started crying watching your lover fighting with Sinestro. When he won, and everything was fine, was when you finally calmed down and just started anxiously waiting while ignoring your colleagues strange antics, one of them even hitting on you. Didn't she know you and Green Lantern were in love?

When the League was back, the paramedics were starting to give the crew the antidote, you were next in line, however, as soon as you saw the heroes, you broke into a sprint.

— Green! — You yelled, catching everyone off guard. Even more so when you jumped and hooked your legs around the brunette’s waist, your arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

Hal was so shocked that it took him two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, ignoring completely the gasps from his friends. You moaned against his lips, mumbling a jumbled mess of “I love you”, “I missed you”, “was so worried”, “so glad you're back”.

Someone groaned.

— Batman, just give them that damn antidote before I lose it. — Batman grunted and Hal struggled but managed to separate your faces for a moment. You tried to push your face towards his again, but he grabbed your jaw. You kept forcing your face against his hand and whining. It was really cute, and your willingness and the previous sensation of your lips ignited something in his belly, yet, he looked to the side just in time to see Batman preparing the needle, the rest of the League sulking on the side and glaring at him.

His mind worked rapidly, ignoring the texture of your soft lips pampering kisses against the skin of his hand. When he felt the tip of your tongue, he made a decision.

A bad one.

— Yeah. I don't think so. — Green Lantern conjured several chain constructs, chaining the League's arms and ankles to the ground. It wouldn't hold off the ones like Superman and Wonder Woman who were strong enough to break it, and Martian Manhunter who could just invade his mind or use his intangibility, Flash was also pretty capable of taking him on, but Hal was smart and sagacious. Still holding you, he made a rocket construct around you both and took off.

Really, a terrible idea.

Superman and Wonder Woman, in a cry of rage, broke the chains. Diana unsheathed her sword, her feet not even touching the ground anymore, flying, ready to go after the traitor. Martian passed through the construct, while Superman went to break Batman and Aquaman free, Flash vibrated fast to rearrange his particles and also escaped.

— We need a plan. — Batman’s voice stopped the amazon warrior from going in a hunt for blood. He was already stressing over what the marketing team could do to fix this.

— A plan? We can defeat the enemy and retreat my darling if we go now! — Wonder Woman barked.

— Green Lantern is impulsive. If we go now we can destroy the whole state and hurt (Y/N) in the process. He won't give them up easily.

— Batman's right. — Superman agreeds. — Flash, follow them and see where they’re going. — The speedster nodded and took off.

Barry shook his head, cursing his idiot best friend the whole way.

Between the whole team, Hal was clearly the only one who would be okay with you falsely loving them. The rest wanted something more genuine for you. Some of them would settle for you not loving them as much as they loved you, some wanted you to feel exactly the same amount of what they felt. Hal still loved you just like them, but he always had that certain level of insecurity that craved to be better than anyone, to impress, making everything a competition, and the sensation of being the only one to have you could certainly cloud his judgment and accept your love, even if fake. He just thought he could compensate by treating you the right way, and not just using that opportunity to do whatever he wanted with you, just because he could and you wouldn't complain. He could make this about you both, and not just about him.

Either way, every one of them (thought) they deserved their fair chance at winning you over.

— Manhunter, can you still read his mind and tell what he is thinking? — Manhunter nodded and his eyes started glowing, there was a second of silence before he spoke.

— It's getting weaker as he gets more distant. It's purely impulsive thinking. Green Lantern isn't considering the consequences and means no harm against Earth or us. — Batman nodds.

— That's a shame. I mean harm. — Wonder Woman mutters, Batman glared and Superman side-eyed her. Batman turned his communication on.

— Flash, tell us when they stop moving.

— If he touches them, I will personally kill him. — Aquaman darkly states. Superman took a step in his direction, facing him head on.

— No, you won't. — The two stared at one another intently, until Batman broke the silence.

— Focus. We don't have time for this. — The dark knight stated.

— We need to be collected and work as a team to act smoothly on our plan. — Martian reminds them. Wonder Woman steps down again and sheats her sword. They all form a circle and start planning.

The sky was never this blue and the sand never this warm and soft. Even with the warmth of the sun being so intense, you were laying on a palm tree's shadow, and the air was flowing just fine. What was actually making you sweat was the dry humping you and your soulmate were doing.

You don't remember ever getting so aroused in your whole life, and can't remember ever desiring someone so much. You could kill someone if they dared to try and steal him away from you.

Hal felt you carding your fingers through his hair and pull slightly, giving him shiver, and he squeezed the flesh of your hips. You moaned against his lips at a particularly stronger wave of pleasure. The clothes were a curse, stopping you from feeling the real him, so you desperately started clawing at his clothes. Green Lantern breathily chuckled.

— Relax, hot stuff, we have time… — He whispers with a smirk. The man held your hands and laid them on the ground, above your head. You just moaned, more needy, and pushed your hips against his, eliciting a hiss from his red and swollen lips.

His hands started unbottoning your shirt and freeing the fabric out of your pants. You kept your hands were they were and watched, eyes wide open, when he descended kisses from the middle of your chest, going south, only pausing at your waistband.

As much as you wanted to feel his mouth more, seeing him so covered and not being able to properly touch him was making you restless, so you sat up, surprising him, and started pulling up the fabric at the back of his neck. Hal chuckled and shook his head, humoring your needs. He helped you take it off, then pushed your own shirt down your arms, until it was off.

You paused, admiring his adonis body. Your heart raced and eyes watered, never having seen something so perfect your whole life. Even his scars were beautiful. His chest hair and happy trail looked really soft and somehow he looked even more muscled, strong and beautiful. You wonder why you rejected him before.

Hal Jordan basked in your amazed gaze, loving to show off, especially while doing nothing. He frowned weakly, and gave a reassuring grin when you pouted, slumped and frowned.

— What's this, sweetheart? I thought you were enjoying this. — To lift your mood, he started running his hands up and down your sides.

— I wanted to see your face… — Hal remained silent for a few seconds. They would tell you their identities eventually, and that fact kept being brought up on reunions. They all knew at some point, you would have to know, to really start a relationship, yet, Batman, and his paranoia, kept them all from telling you. Sometimes, it felt like a sabotage, but mostly, it made sense, since the guy had a bunch of kids, who could be in danger if the information somehow got leaked, still, you couldn't trust to let them in, if they didn't let you in. That was the only reason you didn't trust them, of course.

Also, a face was not a name. Hal wasn't famous, so how bad could it be? Especially if it would turn you on so much, and when you looked so damn cute. His own lust was also influencing his critical thinking, which was already second place to his impulsiveness.

Hal bit his lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, a few centimeters away from having your noses touching.

— Okay… Take it off… — You let out a happy squeal and reached up with both hands. Your heart pounded with anticipation, making you go slower to savor the intimacy even more. Hal closed his eyes when he felt the gentle tug, against his wishes to watch your eagerness and your lip biting in anticipation. His heart was also pounding.

You saw his right eye closed and his thick eyebrow, when suddenly, a loud noise rang out, scaring the shit out of you and prompting Hal to fix the mask again, get up and assess for danger.

He finally fell to his senses and realized something.

He just took the worst decisions ever.

Everything happened too fast. Flash was on your side, holding a needle to your arm, and Green Lantern was being thrown around by a red and blue blur. Only the feminine rageful scream gave you the hint to who it was.

You got up, ready to die for your soulmate, when the antidote kicked in.

You threw up.

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Kinktober day one

Sex pollen and Logan 😫😫😫😫

Part 2 here!!!

Logan has a bad habit. Okay, actually, he has a bunch. But one of them is never really paying attention to Scott. He annoys him. Just because.

So Logan just nodded and waved dismissively as Scott said not to go into this one lab downstairs because blah blah blah plant.

But he knows you're working down there, and he likes to be around you. Lately, he's been flirting with you day in and day out, and he really enjoys your company.

As he's looking around for you in one of the labs, his eyes catch a glimpse of an odd plant. It’s bright colors draw him in, and it looks so soft to the touch…

What could possibly be dangerous about a plant? It’s a plant and Logan is the wolverine. He’ll be fine.

So. He touches the plant. Into the air, tiny particles of pollen rise and he doesn’t even have the opportunity to step back when they get stuck all over him. His jacket, shoulders, hair—everything. He’s covered in the soft pink pollen.

As he’s brushing it off, he catches a sweet whiff of the pollen. Curious, he lifts his hand, covered in the particles, to his nose. He sniffs it and, not having thought it through, snorts up most of it by accident.

He coughs, eyes watering, and then sneezes. He walks out of the lab, muttering about stupid plants, when he catches your scent.

He follows it until he reaches the lab you’re in, dilligently working away on some compound or another.

You blush with so much ease when you see him. “Hi, Lo,” you say sweetly.

Logan’s body jolts with electricity, heat coursing through his veins. The sensation is so sudden and intense that he doesn’t really understand what’s happening until his cock twitches in his jeans and he realizes he’s getting hard.

“Hey,” he replies, clearing his throat. “Hi.” He offers you a smile.

But he can feel his body start to lose to a craze. His skin feels like it’s on fire. His cock is being pumped full of blood and will soon be too hard to conceal. Beads of sweat are forming on his brow and his vision is growing a tad hazy.

You glance at him when you hear his heavy breathing and are immediately concerned. A discreet flush has settled on his face, his pupils are dilated and he’s shaking his head every now and then, as if trying to get rid of something.

“You alright?” you ask him, eyeing hands rolled into fists and his prominent veins. “Lo?”

His eyes fly up from the floor to meet you. You see his gaze, dark and intense, and it scares you as much as it thrills you. You’ve never seen him look like such an animal…

“Lo?”

He closes the distance between you two with a few strides, and it’s only as he’s backing you up onto one of the lab tables that you see the pink pollen particles in his hair.

Uh-oh.

---

Kinktober masterlist

Blog masterlist

[star-suh]

Re-Connect

Lee Jeno x Male Reader

an: based on the sex pollen trope.

—

lee jeno is a masterful spy working for the government,this time his mission is to deactivate an explosive device set in one of the stadiums in the city, which is packed with civilians today. “okay mr. lee you will be disguised as a policeman and your job is to cut the cables of the device to avoid the explosion. but in order to maintain your safety you will be accompanied by mr. ln”. “what?” jeno said surprised, “i can do it by myself” he adds. “we know” the higher up replies quickly, “but it’s just so you can do it without worries”. jeno was ready to talk back but the video call was cut off, “damn” he sighs.

the reason why jeno was so opposed to the idea of being with yn is because they had a past together that didn’t end well. they both were trained in the same academy to become top tier spies so naturally a relationship bloomed between them but the constant missions in which they had to go to different locations created a rift in their relationship which finally ended when they both had an argument. jeno sighed, he knew that sooner or later he had to talk to yn but he doesn’t feel ready yet.

“hello jeno”, yn awkwardly said, a bit flustered. “oh, hi y…n…” and as if he was in one of those cliche movies the world stopped when he saw yn in front of him, even his hair moving in slow motion. “close your mouth or a fly will enter it” yn joked trying to lighten the atmosphere. jeno giggled flustered, “are you ready for the mision” jeno asked. “mmh hmm” the other nodded, “let’s just do this fast and get over with this”, a lump forms on jeno’s throat. as much as he wants to deny it he wants to spend some time with yn even if it’s just for a mission they had to do together.

“yeah let’s go” yn leads the way, entering the black van followed by jeno. the pair accompanied by the rest of the team arrives to the stadium, trying to blend in as just simple viewers of today’s game. “the report says that the bomb is near the south entrance, let’s go there then” jeno says looking at his watch and pressing the stopwatch button that started a countdown. the pair arrived at the south entrance while the rest of the team stayed in the van to communicate instructions to them through earphones.

“we are here” yn touches his earphone waiting for instructions. “yeah umm you should see in front of you the bathroom signal, go there and turn left you should see a door” yn signaled jeno to follow him, “the door’s locked. i need a code” jeno talks to jisung, who was in charge of the technology part of the mission, a hacker you must say, “wait a second aaand… done, it’s open now but don’t let it close or else you have to wait almost one hour so i can open it again”.

“roger that” quickly jeno went towards the strange package wrapped in a black trash bag and some tape. he looks at his watch and wipe the sweat off of his forehead, while yn stands on the door watching if someone comes. jeno unwraps the package and sees a quite fancy device for it to be a bomb, “this looks tough” jeno murmurs but he then breathes deeply and relaxes his nerves, “phew.. how do i start..” anxiety starting to take over him. “hey” yn blurted out, “it’s okay, don’t worry” jeno looks at him, those words reminiscing him of their past days, “you can do it” a soft expression plastered on yn’s face that made jeno regain his confidence, “thank you” he says softly resuming his job.

out of nowhere yn hears footsteps running towards the door, “jeno i don’t want to scare you but i think we have some company coming our way.. no pressure tho”, jeno again giggles nervously, “sure” his face and arms dripping with sweat.

suddenly a pair of hunky men burst through the door, yn adopted a position to get ready to fight “focus on that damn bomb i’ll take care of them”. one of the men runs towards yn and he does the same landing a punch on the other’s face but he then is met with a punch on his face too that sends him flying to the floor, “guess this is not gonna be boring” he spits some blood and cleans his lips with the back of his hand, “come on assholes, you two are going to be my bitches today” a smirk appearing on his face.

while the three keep throwing punches and kicks here and there, jeno was still disassembling the device but he couldn’t help to glance at yn, his bloody and bruised face. he felt a rush on his body, a need to go and help yn but he knows he needs to focus and end his job. yn manages to knock one of the men on the back of his neck leaving him unconscious on the floor but the other one manages to overpowered him, throwing him to the floor and starts to choke him. desperately yn punches and scratches his face trying to get him off of his neck, veins start to bulge on his forehead a neck,his face completely red and his eyes becoming hooded. when he thought that would be his last breath he felt the pair of hands leaving his neck alone so he quickly crawled away from there and coughs a lot. his chest heaving a lot trying to catch some air then he looks at the other man screaming. the cause was that jeno threw a little knife to his thigh. “you damn fuckers” he cries in pain pulling the knife out and pressing against the wound. he then stands up and pulls out a vial out of one of his pockets he then picks up the other guy and throws the object to the floor near them, “let’s see if you both can keep focused on disassembling that shit” he runs towards the door and close it. from the vial a pink smoke comes out, “what the fuck is that” yn asks, “maybe some toxin?” jeno answers and then freaks out, “are we gonna die?” his tone was laced with worry. “i don’t think so, he said something to keep focused”, “so maybe a hallucination gas or something?” jeno says. “i don’t know man but just finish your job.

yn takes off his jacket and wraps him around jeno’s mouth and nose, “try to not breath much of that gas. you’re almost done with it.. good job” yn pats jeno’s head and sits against a wall.

finally with the last cable being cut the device turns off by itself and jeno celebrates standing up and cheering like a little kid in a birthday party. pressing again the button on his watch to stop the stopwatch seeing he also break his previous record of the time he spent disassembling explosive devices, it made him more confident on his job. he then turns around and see yn slumped against the wall, sweating a lot and his face flushed as hell, “oh my god yn, what happened?” he takes out the jacket around his nose breathing in the gas too. “i don’t know i feel weird… and hot..”, “do you have a fever or something?” jeno caresses his face surprised by how hot he was, “i think this is because to the gas jeno” yn squirms on the spot, a moan escaping from his mouth. this catches jeno off guard and the gas starts affecting him too, “yn i- i’m sorry for what happened that time”, he positions himself on top of yn, his veiny arms on each side of yn and his face turning red too. “i was a fool, scared of being with someone” his face drooping on yn’s shoulder, “i’m so sorry for telling you all those things to make you get away from me” he nuzzles his head on yn’s neck leaving subtle little kisses on the burning skin. yn moans due to the other’s actions, “jeno.. it’s- it’s ok, i’ve already forgave you” yn pushes jeno’s head harder against his neck, showing jeno that he wanted more and the latter complied, his lips sucking around the skin leaving hickeys on it, he then licks a stripe and afterwards bites that spot leaving a mark of his teeth on there. “you look so pretty like this, all flustered” jeno praises. “i need your help jeno… it’s itching… inside me” yn confesses, shy and flustered. “don’t worry i’ll help you with it” jeno kissed his lips, licking the blood that was on them.

the scene escalated quickly with them both discarding their clothes,craving to feel each other’s bodies, the burning sensation that is left on them every time their bodies touch. “i missed this” jeno declared while leaving more mark on yn’s torso. “fuck jeno” yn moaned, hooded eyes and drool coming out of his mouth, he was already a whimpering,”i barely touched you and you are already so fucked up”, jeno swear he can almost see yn’s pupils turning into hearts by how horny he was right now. jeno ripped yn’s briefs leaving them as if it was a jockstrap, his bare ass touching the cold floor. the top’s hand slid up and down yn’s pulsing hole, his middle finger moving right above said part. jeno kept on kissing yn, swallowing his moans while his fingers prepped him down there. “i’m sorry” jeno apologizes again, tears forming on his eyes “it’s not the time jeno” yn holds back a whimper when one of jeno’s digits entered his hole, “i know but i just want to tell you that i still love you”...

jeno slicked his dick with yn’s saliva, that he previously asked him to spit on his hand, and put it on the other’s entrance. pushing little by little until he stuffed yn completely with his fat dick. “i forgot how hung you are” yn express while getting used to the sensation. “but you know how to take it like a champ.. you never disappoint me” jeno praises. his hung cock going in and out of yn’s ass while his balls smacked against him. “god how much i’ve missed clapping your cheeks” jeno snickers and kisses the tip of yn’s nose, “my pretty prince”. “jeno you make me feel so good” yn claims, “yeah i know that, your body tells me everything. i wish you could see how your hole grips on my cock it doesn’t want me to leave it empty”. jeno pulls out watching at the gaping hole clenching, slapping the tip on it and putting it in to then slam himself with all the strength he has left on his body.

jeno keeps railing yn while he lays down, back against the floor, grabbing him by his legs as a way to keep himself steady. on the other side yn was jerking off at the sight he has in front, jeno’s sculpted torso all sweaty and with some marks, his chest bouncing thanks to the recoil of his powerful thrusts and his slutty waist moving as if he was dancing a choreography, in short jeno knows how to fuck, how to make yn feel on cloud 9 with his big dick. few minutes later, unable to hold it more longer and the constant abuse suffered from jeno’s tip touching his prostate, yn spurted cum all over his body with some landing on his face and hair. “wonder how long has it been since you masturbate, this seems to be a lot of jizz” jeno played with the liquid with his fingers, coating one of his digits and then smearing it on yn’s lips like a balm and kissed him immediately afterwards.

“please give it to me. fill me up” yn begged hugging jeno, one of his hand on his wide back while the other on one of his ass cheeks to try to make him go faster, “i love how your tip kisses my prostate but i need you to move faster please, go hard” his moans growing louder when jeno accelerated his pace, “yesss” yn rolled his eyes back, “fuck me like the beast you are. break my fucking ass” the sudden change on the tone of his pleas drove jeno wild, as if those simple words turned on a switch inside of him he went as fast as he could, the outline of a bulge forming on his tummy every time jeno goes in and by consequence yn ends up scratching the top’s back, “what the fuck” jeno growls, opening yn’s mouth with his fingers and spitting on it several times, “swallow it” he demanded, then sliding his index and middle finger on yn’s lips while he sucked them.

now in a doggy style jeno is doing the last thrusts when he uses the previously sucked fingers to introduce them along with his dick on yn’s gaped ass, while his cock keeps opening yn’s walls his fingers massage the rim of his red puckered hole.

“fuckk” with a loud grunt jeno empties himself on yn, every spurt followed by little grunts. jeno plops himself on top of yn, eager to feel the warmth of his body. “that was way good” yn blurted out, caressing jeno’s hair, “good make up sex” jeno adds, both snickered when they hear the door unlocking, “umm… you all can go out now, i could unlock the door again” jisung spoke to both through their earphones and then realization kicks in, yn gasps while jeno stays still with open eyes. they were so focused on each other that they forgot to turn off their earphones, so basically, jisung heard all the heated sex session. “sorry jisung” yn muttered. “it’s okay” in the van a flustered jisung was stunned, flushed face, sweaty forehead and a big tent forming on his pants, “i need a second” jisung tells the rest of the group in the van while going out of the vehicle and ran towards the nearest bathroom.

“do you think he’s gonna say anything?” yn asks jeno who just shrugged it off, “i don’t care, that way they know you’re my boyfriend now”, yn giggled like a fool in love, “i’m serious” jeno seals his words with a passionate kiss.

[spicyspiders]

turn me inside out

Mark Grayson x male reader smut

4.9k words

Quiet evenings were a thing of the past when dating a superhero.

Warning for bottom male reader, sex pollen, armpit kink, scent kink, sweat kink (kind of?), rimming, deepthroating, anal sex, and slight cum inflation.

What you thought would be a quiet afternoon quickly changed at the sound of a helicopter drawing closer and closer to where you were. It wasn’t the weirdest thing to see helicopters flying overhead given the world you lived in, but it wasn’t every day that one landed right in front of you. 

You shield your face against the wind, struggling to try and peak through to see who is approaching. Your hands fell from your face as the blades slowed down, watching as the head of the GDA got out. 

“Cecil Stedman of the GDA,” he said, flashing his badge, “you need to come with me.”

You knew who he was, but it wasn’t from the numerous articles about him on the internet, but from Mark. And from how Mark talked about him, he sounded like a no-nonsense type of guy. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“We will be if you don’t come with us,” Cecil responded, and when you looked at him full of confusion, Cecil clarified, “it’s about Invincible.”

You tried your best to not show on your face how the mention of his name affected you, even if everything in your body was telling you to run to him. “What about him?” You asked, trying to keep up the facade. 

Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “we know Invincible– Mark,” he said his name quietly, like he was afraid someone would overhear, “is your boyfriend. Now,” he said, the helicopter’s blades already whirling back to life, “get in.”

“Donald, fill him in,” Cecil said to the man in the seat across from yours. 

“Yes, sir,” Donald said, waiting until you were settled into your seat before he spoke again, “Seven hours ago, Mark returned from an off-world mission. He came back with an unusual,” he glanced over at Cecil, “side effect.”

“What do you mean by side effect?” You asked, looking between the two men.

“We kept him overnight to conduct research, and what we’ve found is that we need your help to cure him.”

“How can I help?”

“You’ll see when you get there,” Cecil answered, “he’s been asking for you nonstop,” he said as he looked out the window, “he’ll be excited to see you.” Which didn’t sound ominous at all. 

The helicopter ride turned into a private plane ride, making the journey to The Pentagon shorter. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or bad with the lack of information Cecil and Donald gave you. 

“What’s this?” You asked, looking at the bag in the seat next to yours. 

“We didn’t have time to get clothes from your house, so we brought you some of ours,” Cecil answered. 

Your head snapped up to look at them, “you were in my house?”

Cecil let out an annoyed sigh, “I just said-”

“We didn’t go to your house,” Donald answered calmly, trying to defuse the situation. 

“How do you know where I live?” You asked as you opened the bag. 

“We looked in your file,” Cecil answered like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My file,” you parroted. 

“You’re dating one of the strongest superheroes on Earth, of course we have a file on you,” Cecil replied. 

The clothes in the bag were a few pairs of underwear, what looked like sleepwear, and in the side pocket was a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Looking through the bag did little to help your confusion. With what was in the bag, it looked like you were being kidnapped to have a sleepover at The Pentagon. 

“What is this?” You asked, frustration more than evident in your voice with how cryptic they were being. 

Cecil let out another sigh, “listen,” he started, “all of your questions will be answered when you see Mark,” he said, placing a comforting hand on your knee, “right now you should get some rest before we get there.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Maybe Cecil wasn’t as bad as Mark made him out to be, you thought to yourself as you forced yourself to sleep.

You didn’t know how much time passed before Donald was gently shaking you awake, but it felt like you were barely able to get any sleep. 

You’re led down through a facility that by the fifth turn through the same looking hallway, has you confused about how Donald and Cecil can make their way through it without a map. It goes from hallways to elevators, Donald and Cecil taking turns on who has to swipe their identification card to get in. 

“Almost there,” Donald says as he presses one of the buttons, flashing you a tense smile.

Your hand tightened around the bag’s handle as you tried to calm your nerves. Though the setup felt oddly similar to when you first spent the night at Mark’s place, just with fewer elevators and hallways, something in you felt wrong.

”Mark is just through that door,” Cecil finally said as you approached two doors. In the middle of them was a small table with a metal bin on top, “empty your pockets into that.”

Your hands shake as you place what belongings you have on you into the bin, Donald giving a small, “thank you,” before he takes the bin back down the hallway. 

“Where are you-”

”He’s taking it to a safe environment,” Cecil answered, cutting you off. 

“So you can plant spyware on me?”

”We already have that on you.”

”Of course you do,” you responded with a roll of your eyes.

Cecil mumbled something under his breath as he walked up to the other door beside the one he pointed out, the words sounding a lot like, “I can tell why Mark likes you,” but you weren’t quite sure. 

“Before I can let you see Mark,” Cecil said as he turned the knob, “I need you to take a shower.”

”I’m not dirty,” you responded, unsure whether to be offended or embarrassed.

Cecil held up his hands in surrender, “we just want to control the environment as much as possible to keep you both safe.”

“The environment is my body,” you replied angrily, “Mark’s body,” you shook your head, “we aren’t a science experiment.”

“You technically are,” Cecil responded, before quickly adding, “I know how it sounds, but we’re still learning. What we have learned is a way to calm Mark down.”

“Me?” You asked, feeling slightly calm now that it seemed that Cecil was opening up. 

“You,” he answered with a nod. “While he was off-planet, something affected him and his powers– heightened his senses. That soap in there,” he nods over to the bathroom, “will clean you in a way that Mark will smell you without all the extra scents you wear or pick up during the day.”

“It’ll help him? You asked, looking Cecil straight in the eye. 

“It’ll help him,” he answered. 

Your mind still reeled with questions, but you took what you could get. If you knew there was anything you could do to help Mark, you would do it. 

It felt odd to wash your body that barely had any smell to it, but at least it had a lather. You watched the soap go down the drain as you tried to calm your mind, your hands moving across your body on autopilot. 

Though it lacks a smell, the soap leaves you feeling clean, your fingers nearly pruned by the time you turn off the water. You pull the clothes on from the bag slowly, trying not to grimace at the thought of there not being any deodorant you could find in the bag. When Cecil said you needed to be clean, he meant everything. 

At least the toothpaste with the toothbrush in the bag had a nice minty flavor to it. You wiped the steam from the mirror with your other hand, coming face-to-face with your nervous eyes. Before you pulled on the clothes you were given, you took a few deep breaths, trying to force yourself to relax. 

You approached the door that connected the rooms slowly, your hand coming to rest on the cool knob. You let your forehead rest on the door, counting down in your brain as you get up the courage to open the door. 

Between seven and six, you hoped Mark would just open the door himself and tell you that everything was okay now, but as the numbers kept going down, you had to face the fact that that wouldn’t be the case. 

You repeated the number one over and over again in your head, and after what felt like the hundredth time, your hand turned the knob. 

You open the door slowly, nervous about what you will find. It made you feel crazy because you knew it would be Mark, there wasn’t anything you needed to be nervous about. Or so you hoped. 

Mark was pacing on the other side of the door, looking at any moment his feet would go straight through the floor. He looked… not quite like himself. 

“Mark?” You whispered, the man jumping at the sound of your voice, “were you waiting long?” You asked when Mark turned to face you. 

Out of all of the things your brain had come up with when you finally saw Mark, what you didn’t expect was for his face to crumble and for him to come racing over. He collapsed into your chest, letting all of his weight fall onto you. 

You fell back into the door with a grunt, Mark’s arms wrapping around your body protectively. You spent what felt like hours against that door until you both calmed, your breaths synching. 

It caught you off guard, your body going tense for a moment before you reflexively wrapped your arms around Mark. You ran your hands down Mark’s back, his body practically vibrating in your arms with untapped energy.   

Mark nuzzled into your neck and let out a hum of contentment, the vibration rattling your chest when he let out a louder one when you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt the tip of his nose run across your neck, puffs of soft air hitting the skin. 

“Are you,” you started, pausing when Mark angled your neck to give him more room, “sniffing me?” You asked.

“Smell so good,” Mark murmured, his lips dragging across your skin. 

“I don’t smell like anything,” you said with a small laugh. 

Mark pulled away from your neck, looking as if your words had offended him, “you smell like you,” he said, a crazed look in his eyes. 

“Okay,” you responded as Mark sat there, waiting for you to respond, “I smell like me.”

Satisfied, Mark nodded before he closed the distance between your mouths, pulling you into a slow kiss. Though it lacked any heat, you were more than happy to let Mark have his fill, responding readily to it. 

“What’s going on, Mark?” you asked, turning your head when Mark instead tried to initiate another kiss. 

“Nothing,” Mark responded, a smile stretched across his lips when he moved his hips forward, his already hard cock nudging your hip, “just needed to see you.” You were surprised you missed that, especially given that the only thing Mark had on was a thin hospital gown. 

“I can tell,” you responded humorously, gasping softly when Mark moved his hips forward again. “This isn’t usually where we meet, though,” you said as you looked around the room. It looked rather plain and empty with just a bed, a nightstand, and a small table with a single chair. It was much different from your room or Mark’s. 

You had to admit though that with the level of surveillance that you were under here, it would feel similar to the few times you’ve been in Mark’s bed at his house. Or, so you assumed. On your way here, you passed by what felt like dozens of cameras, and those were just the ones you could identify. It wasn’t like Mark’s house had cameras, but there was always a level of risk there knowing that at any moment, Mark’s mom could walk in. 

“Mark,” you whispered, “are there cameras in here?”

Mark grunted in reply, his head ducking back down into your neck to this time run his tongue across the skin. He moaned into the skin, his hands tightening on your body as he pulled you even closer. 

“Mark!” You hissed, trying your hardest to stifle a moan as his tongue ran over your pulse point. 

“No,” Mark answered, “yes– I don’t know,” he pulled away from your neck, his eyes flicked over your shoulder to the door before he looked over to the other one, “knowing Cecil, probably,” he added before swooping forward into another kiss, one you couldn’t dodge. “But right now I don’t care,” he said against your mouth, the look in his eye making you shiver.

Mark flew you the short distance to the bed, barely giving you time to hang on. You knew Mark wouldn’t let you fall, but it still managed to startle you, “Mark!” You yelled as he picked you up, before what felt like a second later, your back was on the bed, “warn a guy next time!”

“Sorry, baby,” Mark whined, “can’t help it,” he said, his hips driving down. He pulled away after one last thrust of his hips, tearing the thin hospital gown to shreds. 

Mark’s hands moved under your shirt, mapping out the skin he had long grown familiar with. He licked his lips as more and more skin became exposed before he ducked down to get his mouth against it. 

Mark swiped his tongue up your chest, groaning as he licked up the moisture he found. You weren’t able to tell if it was water you had missed from your shower, or if you had already started sweating. 

It was a nice temperature in the room you were in, not too cold or hot, but it wouldn’t surprise you if you had already broken out in a sweat. Just being in Mark’s proximity tended to do that to you. 

Mark’s skin ran hot against yours, his hands a hot weight on your skin as he held you down to the bed. His hands tightened along your hips when his tongue dipped into your belly button to swirl around the sensitive skin. 

“Mark,” you gasped, not knowing whether you wanted to get away or stay in place as the ticklish feeling washed over you, “feels weird,” you said, trying to bite back the laugh you felt bubbling up. 

“Sorry,” Mark breathed as he pulled away, his saliva already starting to cool. It left the trail of hair leading into your pants matted to your skin, Mark looking grossly satisfied at his work. 

A flash of nervousness runs through your body as Mark tugs at your clothing, afraid he is going to rip them off like the poor hospital gown. It wouldn’t be the first time Mark has ripped your clothing to get you undressed. 

You brought your hips off the bed to help him out, Mark flashing a grateful smile your way as he pulled them down your legs. When his hands moved to your bunched up shirt below your chin, he leaned down to press his lips to yours. 

You pulled away from the kiss with a laugh, “it’ll be easier if you take this off,” you said. 

Even though he nodded in agreement, Mark moved back in for another kiss, before finally pulling away when he tried for another and his lips came in contact with your shirt. Once it was finally out of the way, Mark tossed the shirt to join your pants.

You kissed lazily until you were at full hardness, making you feel for Mark. He must have been like this for hours. He moaned into your mouth as your hard cocks met, Mark’s leaking from the head messily as you rutted together. 

Precum was normal, of course, but what had gotten onto Mark from that other planet must have caused him to act in this way. What had gone from normal, had been taken to extreme, one of the examples of that being the way his cock leaked like a faucet. 

Mark pulled away with a groan, his breath mingling with yours as he took a moment to catch his breath, “can I try something?” He panted.

“Anything,” you responded, not caring as long as his cock stayed pressed to yours. 

With one last lingering closed-mouth kiss, Mark slowly moved down your body. You whimpered when his hips moved from yours, Mark surging back up to press a kiss to your lips in apology. Once he had kissed the pout from your lips, Mark continued on. 

Higher than you expected, Mark came to a halt, one of his hands going to your elbow to lift your arm. You held your breath as you looked down, watching and waiting. 

You gasped when Mark moved forward, not at all expecting his tongue to come into contact with your armpit, “fuck, Mark. That’s so–” So what? Gross? Hot? You didn’t know what to call it. All you knew was that Mark seemed to enjoy it, if the sounds he made were any indication. 

Mark’s other hand went to your other arm, lifting it towards the pillow in preparation for where he would go next. 

On your thigh, you felt Mark’s cock twitch before you felt a drop of precum hit your skin, smearing into the hair. Was this why there was no deodorant in the bag for you on the plane? Did Cecil know that Mark was going to spend more time than you expected licking over the skin until he managed to get up all of your sweat?

“You okay?” You asked Mark when he moved to the other one and stayed in place like he was frozen. 

Wordlessly, Mark nodded, nose buried within your armpit hair. You jumped as his breathing became heavier, the gushes of air ruffling the air. And like from earlier, you had to bite your lip to stifle a laugh you felt bubbling up as the stimulation ticked you. 

Slowly, Mark moved away before coming face-to-face with you, his pupils blown wide. Gone was the crazed look from earlier, and instead Mark’s face looked blissed out and overcome with pleasure. 

Just as slowly as he had moved away, he moved forward, giving you plenty of time to push his head away. It wasn’t like you were going to, even if his face had just been in your armpit. The salt on Mark’s tongue almost tasted the same as the salty taste on yours the last time you sucked him off, the thought making you groan as Mark’s tongue went deeper into your mouth. 

“Wish you could taste how good you are,” Mark whispered, “how good you smell,” he said after another kiss, “how good you feel,” he said, bringing your hips back together again. 

He made his way back down your body in sections, starting at your nipples. He swirled his tongue around one before biting it into a hardened point. You buried your hand in Mark’s hair when he moved to the other, the mix of pain and pleasure from his tongue and teeth sending waves of ecstasy through your body. 

Next, Mark licked down your body, cleaning up the mess his cock leaked out onto skin that hadn’t already dried, paying no mind to his own bitter taste. He dragged his nose as he went further, going right through the thatch of hair at the base of your cock. 

Mark groaned at the musky smell, the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Once he finally reached his destination and sucked your cock into his mouth, another followed suit, this time vibrating straight through your cock. 

“Mark!” You moaned as the suction, right off the bat, was nearly too much. Your back arched off the bed, your body moving closer for more.

Mark whimpered at the sound of his name, pausing to take your cock deeper. His throat was wet and tight around your cock, the wet walls of his throat clenching as he fought against his gag reflex to take you deeper. 

You grabbed for Mark’s face when tears sprung from his eyes, pulling him back up your body. “Easy, Mark,” you said as you wiped through the tracks, “don’t hurt yourself,” you murmured, wiping your thumbs across his face slowly. 

Mark opened his eyes as he rested his face in the literal palm of your hand, his tears making his eyelashes clump together, “want you to cum in my mouth,” he said softly like the heat of the moment had caught up to him and he was afraid for you to hear. 

“I will, I will,” you said, smiling down softly at him as he turned his face to press a kiss to your palm. 

Mark stole a soft, salty kiss before he went back down. He took you as deep as he could, and what he couldn’t take he wrapped his fingers around. He set up a fast, wet rhythm as he bobbed his head on your cock, his fingers slick around the base. 

Mark pulled off with a wet pop, his hand moving to the tip of your cock to give him ample room to work as he sucked one of your balls into his mouth. You groaned at the feel of not only his mouth, but at the feel of his hands as he slowly stroked you from tip to root. 

Moved onto the second, Mark’s hand moved achingly slow as the tip of his tongue licked the sensitive skin. He pulled away with a slick pop as he pulled into lungfuls of air, watching as you fell apart under him. 

“Don’t tease,” you pleaded.

“M’not teasing,” Mark replied, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Especially when he pulled his hand to his mouth and his tongue came out to lick up the bead of precum that had leaked onto his fingers. 

Once your cock was back inside the hot cavern of his mouth, it didn’t take long for Mark to get his wish. Your orgasm raced through you, punching out moans from your throat as your stomach clenched around the pleasure you had felt building there. 

And like the taste of your cum made Mark have his own orgasm, he moaned loudly around your cock as he drank down the cum that shot from the slit of your cock. 

You yanked at Mark’s hair when you could feel overstimulation begin to creep in, trying to pull him off as he continued to suck you off for all that you were worth. Your hand fell free when Mark finally pulled off, your cock giving a small twitch of interest as you watched Mark lick his lips satisfyingly. 

You opened your mouth when Mark flopped down beside you, his still hard cock rubbing against you, “what about–” you started to ask, only to be cut off when Mark kisses you. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you breathe. 

Mark lets out a hum of contempt as he runs his hands all over your body, “you are,” he sighs. You weren’t really sure how you being one orgasm down while he was still rock hard was satisfying, but you suppose you shouldn’t complain. 

Legs tangled together, you kiss until you’re nearly hard again, aided by Mark’s fingers as they dig into the skin of your ass cheeks to bring your cocks together. He pulls away momentarily to open one of the drawers to the nightstand, bringing a bottle of lube back with him.  

You turn onto your stomach in anticipation, waiting to hear the telltale sound of the cap opening. Seconds later, you instead feel soft kisses being pressed to your back. 

“Not yet,” Mark whispers into your ear, making you shiver. 

If he was going to make you wait, you might as well get comfortable. You curl your arms around one of the surprisingly soft pillows on the bed, waiting to feel what Mark is going to do next. 

Mark kisses down the knobs of your spin, down down down until he reaches the small of your back. You’re practically shaking by the time Mark grabs both of your ass cheeks and spreads you open. 

Your moan is muffled into the pillow as Mark licks slowly along your crack, his tongue only a faint whisper against your hole. It grows louder when Mark finally finds his, well… mark, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint dips inside.   

Mark moans as he spears you open on his tongue, the sound going straight to your cock. His strong fingers dig into your skin, massaging the flesh below his hands. When you clench down his tongue, Mark’s fingers nearly tighten to the point of pain, but a sick part of you hopes– wants Mark to go past that and leave a trace of himself on your skin. 

Mark pulls away, but just far enough to spit on your hole, one of his fingers coming in quickly to press it inside slowly. Lax from his tongue and your first orgasm, Mark makes swift work preparing you with one finger, and soon after, a second is joining the first. 

On the first brush to your prostate, your back arches, your now fully hard cock coming into contact with the bedspread. You push your ass back as Mark scissors his fingers, groaning into the pillow at the slight burn. 

Mark lays a kiss on each cheek as he moves his fingers in and out before he licks inside, between his two fingers. 

You moan at the combined feel of Mark’s tongue and fingers, your cock throbbing when a third joins the second, knowing exactly what was about to come. As you adjust to his three fingers, your ears pick up on the sound of Mark’s lubed-up fist around his cock and his harsh pants behind you. 

Mark pulls his fingers free slowly, your hole clenching around nothing momentarily before the wet head of his cock was replacing his fingers. His body hovers over yours, arms beside your shoulders as he thrusts inside in one steady movement. 

You both groan when Mark bottoms out, his hips coming to rest against your ass. Marks lowers himself down, his body laid out over yours as he lays kisses across the back of your neck. 

You crane your neck to the side, Mark already knowing exactly what you want as he presses his lips to yours. As his tongue presses past your teeth, Mark circles his hips, your hole clenching around his cock. 

“Ready?” Mark asked, pulling away from the kiss to lick up the sweat on the back of your neck. 

“Yes yes yes,” you chanted, pressing your ass back, even if all you came into contact with was Mark’s hips. 

Mark pulls out slowly until just the head remains inside before thrusting right back inside. It only took just that one thrust for Mark to pick up his rhythm, fucking you into the bed on each thrust.

The smack of skin-on-skin rang loudly through the room, accompanied by the groan and creak of the bed below your combined weight. If there truly weren’t cameras in the room, it wouldn’t matter because if anyone even stepped down the hallway you were in, they’d be able to tell exactly what you were up to through the door. 

Shamelessly, you pushed back into Mark’s thrusts, fighting off the ball of pleasure you could steadily feel grow larger and larger on each one. 

Mark panted in your ear, moaning to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moved one of his hands below your body and between your legs to wrap his fingers loosely around your cock. 

You moved your hand to cover Mark’s, instead of pulling his fingers down to wrap around the base. You tightened your hold around his fingers, hoping that Mark would get the gist that you were trying to last as long as you could. 

When your hand fell away, so did Mark’s. Your mouth opens in protest, but as if Mark could read your mind, his lips were there on the back of your neck, kissing the skin softly in the form of an apology. His fingers moved down your cock and past your balls to press his fingers into your perineum, inner prostate stimulation meeting outer prostate stimulation. 

You cum with a shout, stars exploding behind your eyes as they roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

After a few more stuttered-off thrusts, Mark cums. His cock goes in deep, and his cum goes in deeper, making a mess of your insides. Mark sobs through his orgasm, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to hold you close. 

Mark rolls you over onto your side, his body curled protectively around yours. He ran his hand softly across your stomach, right on top of where his hard cock was still pumping you full. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, your voice rough. 

“Good,” Mark replied, tangling your legs together, “tired,” he murmured. 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you said, clenching down on his cock. 

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “could say the same for you,” he said, wrapping a hand around your hardening cock. 

“Do you think it rubbed off?” You asked, reaching behind you to grab Mark’s ass when he rolled his hips forward. 

“Let’s find out,” Mark answered, nipping at your neck. 

[perseephoneee]

for kinktober 2024. fandom: teen wolf. characters: scott and isaac. kink: threesome

kinktober day 2 (isaac lahey x f!reader x scott mccall)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist

content warnings: threesome, oral (f. and m. receiving), degrading nicknames, p in v, unprotected sex, insinuation of sex pollen

a/n: i was so intimidated to write this so i listened to Mario kart music while doing so. because you know. nothing screams "sex!" like coconut mall

Your dirtiest fantasies had not prepared you for this. Beacon Hills always had something weird going on, and the Nemeton was to blame for that, but whatever had infected the boys this time was nasty. You had noticed Scott and Isaac acting weird while at school, so feeling dutiful, you decided to stop by and check in on them afterward. You had to wait until you finished your extracurriculars and came to the McCall household after the sun had set. Melissa's car wasn't in the driveway, so she was probably working the night shift again. Scott's motorcycle was here, so you assumed he was home. You knocked on the door but tried pushing it open after no response. Someone had left it unlocked as you nervously stepped into the house.

"Scott?" Isaac?" you called out, dropping your bag by the front and walking in further. Goosebumps prickled on your skin as you ascended the stairs, investigating further. There were no lights in the hallway, and you were questioning if you imagined the motorcycle in the driveway. Suddenly, you were pushed against the wall, letting out a yelp as a hand wrapped around your throat.

Isaac looked down at you, eyes rimmed in gold but no claws as he held you there. You gulped, and he smirked as you looked at him fearfully. Looking for someone, princess?"

Something was wrong, that much you could see. It was almost like he was trapped in a half-wolf state, and you were the stupid rabbit that had run into the foxhole. Isaac cupped your neck, tilting your head back with a growl. "Answer me."

"W-wanted to make sure you and Scott were okay," you stammered. Isaac's other hand traced circles on your hip, making you hyper-aware of everything happening around you. Your ears pricked at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"That's cute. She came to take care of us," Scott said, the same glazed look in his eyes as Isaac's, this time rimmed in red. Your heart picked up as he stalked closer. He heard the change in your breathing and grinned. "Don't be scared, it's just us."

You were slightly scared because these were not the often awkward but kind boys you knew. These werewolves looking at you like their next prey. The masochistic part of you was slightly aroused by it.

Isaac pulled you from the wall, spinning around so you were facing Scott as he stood right behind you. You could feel his erection pressing into your back as he brushed the hair away from your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Pretty thing, isn't she?" he murmured, kissing behind your ear. You would probably collapse from cardiac arrest if he wasn't holding you. Scott stepped closer, and you couldn't help but stare into the red glow of his eyes.

"What do you think? Gonna take care of us?" Scott cooed. The curious part of you nodded, all common sense flying out the door. Scott smirked, leaning down and kissing you. The intensity was shocking, and you couldn't help but almost stumble into him as your hands found his biceps. He just pulled you closer, nearly growling into your mouth before pulling away. Scott started pulling you towards the closest bedroom, Isaac following behind like a dominating presence. You felt heat rise in your cheeks at the sound of the door clicking close.

"You gonna undress for us, or should we rip the clothes from your body?" Isaac hummed, playing with the hem of your shirt. You hesitantly started taking off your body, then removing your jeans, until you were left in your undergarments. The room was mostly dark, with only a single lamp in the corner casting shadows. Still, you couldn't help but be aware of how they admired you. Scott sat on the bed, watching in amusement as Isaac circled you. Isaac pulled you closer to him, fingers brushing over the edge of your bra. "Such a pretty slut, all for us?" he purred, and you felt your stomach tighten.

"Yes," you responded, voice small. Isaac kissed you, gentler than Scott but still firm. His hands unclasped your bra as he pushed you towards the bed. You fell onto it with a slight bounce, wanting to cover your chest but unable to as Scott grabbed your arms. He had undressed and now was leaning over to kiss and suck your breasts before you could utter anything else. You let out slight gasps, feeling overwhelmed and not even noticing Isaac removing his shirt and sliding to the floor. He pulled off your panties, bringing you closer to the edge of the bed as he kissed up your inner thighs. He bit down hard on your soft flesh, causing you to let out a yelp, which Scott swallowed down with his lips. Your senses were on fire, feeling overwhelmed by their bodies close to yours. Scott slipped his tongue in your mouth right as Isaac licked from your entrance to your bud. You let out a shuddering breath and fell back against the bed, the pleasure overwhelming.

"Let's put that mouth to work," Scott hummed, sitting up above you with his briefs gone and cock pressed to his stomach. You gulped, unsure, but took him in your hands and tentatively licked the head. He let out a groan, wrapping your hair in his hands and holding your head steady as you took more of him in your mouth. You tried to remember to breathe through your nose, even as Isaac continued eating you out. Tears pricked your eyes as you took Scott as deep as possible before pulling back. He started fucking your mouth, holding you steady as his dick passed between your lips. You moaned around him as Isaac began to use his fingers, curling them just right. Scott and Isaac pulled away simultaneously, leaving you feeling discombobulated. You barely had a second to complain before you were being flipped over, ass in the air on your hands and knees. Scott cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip, which you took into your mouth, sucking gently. He growled, removing his hand and squeezing your face. "Greedy, aren't you?" Scott smiled, the red in his eyes almost getting brighter. "Don't worry, we'll fill you up real nicely."

"Love this pussy of yours, princess," Isaac cooed, running his fingers up and down your folds. Your core tightened in response, excitement building up for you. You turned your head to look at Isaac, naked and smirking above you as he kneaded the plush of your ass. You turned your head back and took Scott in your mouth again, breathing in and out deeply as you worked on taking in as much as you could. Scott held your head, panting in a way that only spurred you on. Just a moment later, Isaac pushed into you. You yelped around Scott's cock, earning a huff of laughter from Isaac as he started to pound into you. You knew your thighs would be red from where he was repetitively hitting you over and over. You almost gagged around Scott as Isaac caused you to go deeper and deeper.

"You're such a good little cock slut, fuck, you're so hot," Scott moaned, and you looked up at him through heavy lashes. Apparently, that was his undoing because he came in your mouth a second later. You swallowed it all down greedily, saliva coating your mouth as he pulled away and laid down on the bed. The glow was already dimming from his eyes, which you found interesting.

You couldn't help but moan as Isaac rolled his cock into you. He grabbed your arms, holding your wrists behind you and pushing down on the small of your back so you were arched up further. You cried out complete nonsense, your core desperate for release.

"Gonna cum on my cock, princess? You can do it; I know you can," Isaac murmured, reaching his other hand to rub against your clit. You cried out his name as you came, your entire body clenching as he followed right behind you. He kept fucking into you as you both came down from your high, pushing his seed as deep as possible.

All three of you were panting as Isaac pulled out and fell down to the other side of the bed, pulling you with him. You let yourself fall asleep, wondering if it was all a dream.

taglist: @alice3612 @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp

[rongloa]

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 | 𝐌. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

↜ CONCEPT — current | CHAPTER ONE ↝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. falling to earth like a comet—brilliant, burning, and broken. you don’t know their ways or their meaning. but there’s no harm in finding one thing for yourself.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). mark grayson x tamarenean! reader

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. future slow burn, future gore, heavy angst, two aliens falling in love w/ each other, invincible series typical violence, extreme misunderstandings, eventual nsfw ( more to be added )

𝐚/𝐧. hey so i watched invincible, fell in love w/ the show + mark grayson and decided i needed to make a stupidly sad fic for it with hatred, devotion and just pure sadness. this is just a teaser kinda idea thing i had. this won’t be canon but it’s like an introduction?

also, reader isn’t described or named! i just used starfire for the headers cause i’m a hoe for aesthetics and reader is based off her, rahhhh 🫶🏼🫶🏼

The grass is warm beneath your bare feet, the suns casting soft golden rays across the open fields. Flowers swaying and dusting the field with glittering pollen. Petal-creatures chime in high pitches as they drift lazily through the air, brushing against your cheeks like curious new friends. You chase them with laughter tumbling from your lungs, your arms outstretched, the long fabric of your dress fluttering behind you like wings. Your toes skim the highest of the stems below, tickling the soles of your feet.

The hills roll in vibrant gold and verdant green, and the palace looms gently in the distance—all soft spires and opalescent stone, yet to break beneath the pressure of the sky.

You are small, but the land feels endless. Safe. Yours.

Near the balcony, amid flowers that weep tears of lilac, two figures watch you from the shade of the flowering trellis. Your mother—tall, radiant, fierce—clasps her hands behind her back as your father speaks softly, he’d always loved your mother.

“She’s wild,” She says with quiet love, with a tone that would melt your heart if you heard. “Like the suns themselves live in her chest.”

Your father doesn’t smile often, but he does now, faint and proud. “And she’ll need that fire. The council will object. She’s young, barely through her first year of training—”

“She learns.” Your mother’s voice sharpens.

“She was born second,” he reminds gently.

“She was born ready.”

You tumble into the grass with a shriek of delight as one of the petal-creatures bursts with a glittering white puff in your hands, harmless and fragrant. You don’t hear the words drifting behind you. You don’t know that your name is already being spoken like a promise. You only know the sun feels good and the sky is yours.

The future hasn’t touched you yet. Not with fists. Not with fire.

Not yet.

Earth is a blur beneath you, a storm-wrapped swirl of oceans and lights and clouds too soft to be real. The depth of space had dulled your senses, only the blistering heat that you had felt breaking the ozone layer of your home was what accompanied you. You don’t know what this planet is really like. They called it “chaotic.” “Violent.” “Hopeful.”

The last one is all you cling to.

You break through the atmosphere like a comet—fire streaming behind you, heat clawing at your skin, the air screaming as it parts around you. Earth. The third planet from the centre most star of their system. Blue, green, and heartbreakingly whole. You almost can’t believe you made it.

As you come to a stop within the clouds dust whips up in plumes from the desert so far beneath you. The innermost part of the continent would be a good start. You don’t break the cover you have, not yet. You simply fly along as you inspect the odd formations and land.

The gravity is almost too easy to shoulder here, and the sun warming your skin in a delightful way. It’s much different from your home, from the never-ending gardens and sprawling fields of just flowers.

It makes a pang of sickness rise in your stomach, home. You miss is with a kind of pain that nearly drags tears from your eyes. You miss the animals too, and your family.

Drifting around a particularly large rock formation and a gust of wind drags your hair into whipping the back of your neck. You can’t help the way you cringe as you continue, in search of any structures, or life.

Just when you begin to see abandoned metal sheds on the outskirts of an old worn down town, there’s a loud roaring in the distance, no, directly behind you.

Three fighter jets flank you within seconds of you breaking cloud cover, tight formation, their sleek metal wings slicing the sky like blades, blue energy pulsing from the engines in them. You hear the sharp ping of radar locks, the low rumbling of the engines, and maybe a little fear from the breathing in the cockpits.

A mechanised voice rings out, travelling over radio waves. You can’t understand it, don’t know the words or the their meaning.

Dragging yourself to a slower pace, you turn to look upon the closest jet. An odd thing sits within the cockpit, a massive black mask masking what would be their face.

If you were in their position, a foreign alien roving over your country, you would not be lenient. No announcement or sign of peace. You would be ready to fight too.

You raise your arms outwards to show you carry no weapons.

The jet that flies above gives another signal—more deliberate. The voice crackling in a foreign tongue, but the intent is clear: Land. Now.

You obey, not out of submission, but hope. Earth wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so sharp, so suspicious. But you left a world where suspicion became bloodshed. You left when the faceless conquerors came, burning through your cities, razing your skies, and laughing as they conquered what your people had built over the millennia.

You land roughly in the middle of a desert, dust pluming around you, the jets circling wide before hanging low to the ground. All their noses aimed downsight, at a singularity. At you. For a moment, you feel alone in the wide expanses of the desert. Even with three souls hovering fingers over the killswitch.

Then—footsteps. Measured. Unafraid.

It makes you shiver, but not out of the heat or cold. They approach from your left, you turn to face them.

A human, who looks a lot like you. Physiologically wise. Two hands, a face, and legs just like you. It makes a smile bloom on your face even as this situation feels too suffocating, like there aren’t barrels of weapons pointed at the space of you.

A man approaches, through the dust. Tight black suit. Grey hair that sits far back on his head. Piercing eyes, and a gnarled looking scar that makes you too curious not to stare. A battle scar, a story.

You give a polite smile, or what you can muster. It’s a bit too toothy with the way his eyebrow shifts just the slightest. Your teeth are sharper in appearance then his.

A bow instead? That’s more respectful. You hinge at the hips and your hair curtains your view of the man who’s slowed to a standstill, the tips of your hair create odd little swirls on the ruddy sand below. Glancing up from your position through parted strands his face is the same, a placid look of indifference. Fuck, not that either.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your planet, Earth…” You gauge his reaction and still nothing. You’re ready to bang your head against the floor and plead with any higher power that he understood any of that, only a word. Even the ‘Earth’ part, but it wasn’t likely. Your home world accent is still too thick. The word probably sounding more like, ‘E-ar-tuh’.

You just bring yourself back up, hands clasped in front of you as you simply wait for him to engage instead, maybe say one word you can recognise out of a million. Oh, the cursed language of Earth and this weird man who wouldn’t react to a g’lark eating the face of his mother.

As you stand and wait, he looks at you like a man who’s seen too much and still wants answers. It sets the nerves in your hands on fire, and the hair at your nape stand on end.

You think he says his name, ‘Cecil Stedman’, and perhaps a question. An important one that you cannot conjure an answer too. Not yet.

You can only bring yourself to nod once.

[wifunozomi]

💐The lads men making bouquets for their s/o💐

Requested prompt 😩

Warnings: just fluffy wholesome vibes but a bit of injuries here and there. I’m still new to the game so I don’t have all the guys personalities down. I’m so sorry😭

Caleb

- yall can’t fight me on this, this man has been gifting you any flowers he would find since YALL WERE KIDS

- like I’m talking about, daisy’s picked by hands like after he’s done playing soccer or something. Sees them and starts picking

- has a handful by the time he’s home and is just like “ here you go” and hands you a small thing of daisies and some grass thrown in there

- BIG BOI Caleb, he’s stressing

- he’s just so used to picking flowers for you, randomly. That actually making the bunch and organizing everything and the bow. BRO IS STRESSED

- He ends up making this :

- of course!!! He putting daisies in there, HE HAS TO REMIND U HES BEEN THERE SINCE DAY 1 😈

Zayne

- guys come on nowww, he watches as Caleb hands you his freshly picked daisies. YOU CANT TELL ME THIS MAN HADN’T ALREADY BEAT HIM TO IT

- I can’t see him as the type to pick any flower or a bunch, i personally think he would pick a single flower, the prettiest one for the prettiest girl🙈

- so THIS DUDE is stressing at work while trying to make this god dam bunch, is definitely doing them in between appointments

- he’s VERY much sneezing from all the pollen, bless you mi bio

- ends up making you this, with of course some candy in there 🍬 :

Rafayel

- he witnessed you admiring some flowers 1 time. BOOM inspiration!!

- originally was just planning to paint you something flowers but he realized it wasn’t enough so… PLUS it’s an art form, I mean seriously how hard can it b-

- he had to look up a YouTube tutorial.

- yes he does end up getting a cut here and there, definitely a huge mess and a bit of sneezing too by the end of it BUT he does it👐

- what he ends up with :

Xavier

- Mans was frustrated and was absolutely taking it out on the video game he was on playing

- he tried making cookies for you buuuuttt ended up causing a small ( the fire department was called ) fire

- he ends up thinking if he can’t make you food HE CAN GATHER SOME FLOWERRRSSS

- definitely the chillest of all the guys,this is like a puzzle piece to him. Absolutely vibing making this for you.

What he made for you:

Sylus

- this man buys you stuff like ALL THE TIME, he’s bought you flowers before expensive one too☝️

- BUT the twins did bring up a good point of “ we’ll have you ever made her something” He froze… like a deer in headlights🧎‍♂️

- he orders the team to gather the materials

- he starts crafting right away, pieces of things are flying everywhere. He’s using his Evol to hold things and arrange them. knowing exactly how he wanted it arranged . Luke and Kieran sit behind the couch making paper origami while the bird watches them.

- FINALLY it is done, he gets 2 thumbs up from the twins and a happy CAWK🐦‍⬛

The results :

[bonercoaster]

Tell Me What You're Feeling

“Are you… feeling it too?” You say, almost whispering. 

He stops in the middle of the room with his back to you. God, you can see the musculature of his back so well now that he took off that flannel. His fists are clenched and arms strained. Your body is on fire. You see his breathing pick up as he hears you approach him, gently placing your hand on his right shoulder. Joel whips around with a wild look in his eyes, his hand flying to the base of your neck to swiftly push you against a nearby wall, pinning you with his body–one hand at your throat and the other caging you in on your right side.

WARNINGS: filthy smut, a little fluff at the end, choking, sex spore/sex pollen fic, creampie, dominant Joel, fingering, pet names, p in v sex, begging, joel yells at reader but dw it's hot, the sex shrooms compel them to screw each other but they've both wanted this for a while, I know this is a javier pena gif but it was so hot i had to use it :3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

While on a supplies run with your partner for the day, Joel, it seems he’s been having a pretty grumpy day. Grumpier than usual at least. Something about a deal gone south earlier in the day, you guess. He walks swiftly through the trees, just slow enough that you’re having some trouble keeping up, and fast enough that you’re panting a little. 

“Joel for fucks sake, I have little legs can we PLEASE slow down? What’s the rush?” You pant, your lungs and legs begging for respite. 

Joel gives you a mean look, raising an eyebrow until he sees just how winded you are. You had to start jogging just to keep up with his brisk walking speed. He looks down, “M’sorry, didn’ realize, let’s take a breather.” 

You go sit down on what looks like a fallen tree. 

“You okay man? Can’t help but think you’re upset on account of the steam coming out of your ears” 

Joel fights a smile at that, you know what to say when he’s having a rough time. 

“M’fine it’s nothing.” His knees crack a little as he sits on the floor next to you, leaning on the stump as support for his back. 

You roll your eyes at him… typical. But at least he isn’t giving you shit. 

You shift your weight a little, beginning to look down  at Joel while you start to crack another stupid joke, but suddenly, your seat gives out from under you. The tree you’re sitting on seems to be rotted, and it just collapses, sending you falling butt-first about two feet into the newly created hole. You let out a surprised yelp and a plume of… are those spores?… rise up out of the tree. 

“Shit.” Joel, also surrounded by the spores, grabs your hands and helps you out of the hole, dragging your dazed self away from the area. 

“Are you okay? Doesn’ look like the cordyceps kind… need a minute?” 

You’re dazed, a little shocked but you’re physically okay.  “Thanks for pulling me out, I'm fine.” 

“Better get goin’ then, there’s shelter close by” 

You two traverse through the forest, you’re still a little dazed, and you wonder if you hit your head against the bark but you don’t feel a bump or any pain. A couple of minutes later it gets a little too warm, you shrug off your sweater, leaving you in just a tank top and some shorts, but that doesn’t stop the sweating. 

Joel just keeps walking, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. At some point you notice his eyes on you, but it’s awkward and you don’t feel very equipped to talk about anything right now so you swiftly look down and keep walking. Eventually, Joel tears his eyes away from you and just takes the lead, walking in front of you and wiping sweat from his own brow. His breath seems a little more labored than usual but you know better than to bring it up to the sometimes- sensitive- about- his- age, old man. You just keep walking until you realize something’s very wrong. 

The fever that’s come over you makes your whole body tingle. Your breasts ache, they feel swollen. Your skin is crawling and you’ve broken out in a cold sweat, and there’s this familiar ache deep inside of you that just won’t go away. It’s getting worse. Thankfully the house is within sight and you’re getting closer. Looking ahead of you, you notice Joel removing his flannel, revealing that he was wearing a white ribbed tank underneath. You notice the sweat glisten down his muscular shoulders and his flushed neck; your breath hitches at the sight of his arms. 

He stops for a moment at the sound, before he keeps walking, turning the knob to enter the house. Slowly. 

“Are you… feeling it too?” You say, almost whispering. 

He stops in the middle of the room with his back to you. God, you can see the musculature of his back so well now that he took off that flannel. His fists are clenched and arms strained. Your body is on fire. You see his breathing pick up as he hears you approach him, gently placing your hand on his right shoulder. Joel whips around with a wild look in his eyes, his hand flying to the base of your neck to swiftly push you against a nearby wall, pinning you with his body–one hand at your throat and the other caging you in on your right side. Joel’s crotch presses against you, making you gasp as you feel him hard against you.

Towering over you, Joel bends down nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck right underneath your jaw, inhaling deeply. The stubble of his beard lightly scratches against your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps and coaxing a whimper from your lips. Both of you are panting. Sweating, hearts racing. His face drags it’s way up your neck, toward your cheek, until his lips hover over yours. It’s intoxicating, his breath, the feeling of him rubbing himself all over you, his body pressed against yours, the way he smells, the way he is looking at you like you’re a meal to be devoured. It makes you dizzy, it makes you feel weak in more ways than one. The temptation to collapse into him and just let him have his way with you, beg him for more contact, to press your lips against his, to release all of the lewd noises you’ve been trying so hard to hold inside of you. 

“You first babygirl, talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling.'' Joel breathes, almost allowing his lips to touch yours. The hand at the base of your neck moving down your chest to begin kneading at your breast, an involuntary whine making its way out of your throat. 

“J-Joel.” Is all you could muster while he kneads your tender and sensitive breast. You’ve never felt so much all at once before, it’s overwhelming. 

Joel moves his lips back down toward your jaw, growling into your ear “What is it baby? Usually I can’t get ya to shut up. C’mon sweetness, d’ya think you could use your words f’me? Tell. Me. What. You’re. Feeling.” Joel growls out the demand, sending shockwaves down your stomach into your currently most neediest area. 

A long whine escapes you when Joel’s lips make contact with the skin under your jaw, sucking on the tender skin there, feeling his teeth and tongue run over the area. Joel keeps slowly kissing and sucking on your tender flesh while you, winded and overstimulated,  try to gather the necessary vocabulary to answer his question. 

“Joel I.. Please Joel. P-lease ahhh, ahh  please.” 

“Please what?  ‘m gonna need more than that from you, doll.” He says grinding his hard cock against you, making you gasp. “Mmm,” Joel sighs, a rumbling sound that comes from deep in his chest, “You make the most delicious sounds babygirl.” 

“Can’t handle… I need… Joel please!  I … need… please…need you.” You manage to gasp out, breathless and shaking. Your whole body is on fire, pussy throbbing, breasts even more swollen and needy, legs shaking, every hair on your body standing up on end. You just know you want him to touch you, hold you, kiss you. You want his tongue in your mouth and his cock in your cunt but you can’t verbalize it, so needy and head so cloudy. You’ve wanted this for a long time, but you could never find the courage to initiate anything. “P-lease Joel… please baby.” 

At that point Joel’s lips crash into yours with such an insatiable voracity, it knocks the wind right out of you. He kisses you like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the first drops of water he’s consumed in weeks. Joel’s tongue forces its way into your mouth and massages against yours while his hips grind against your own. Joel groans into your mouth, and it is the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. Your hands find their way up toward his curls while his own hands tug off your clothes, not breaking away from the kiss for more than one second. You’re both in your own little world together, all that exists right now is each other and the pleasure you both receive. You begin tugging at his undershirt  furiously, not caring if it rips, just needing to feel more of his bare skin. You hear him chuckle at your desperation, breaking away from you for just a couple of seconds so he could take off his tank, pressing his lips against yours again while he steps out of his pants and boxers. It’s… so big that it’s a little intimidating. Nevertheless, the fire inside of you rages hotter, needing more. Your skin tingling all over and your heart feeling like it is beating a million times per minute. 

Almost as if reading your mind, Joel’s fingers trail fire down your bare stomach before they dip into your wet heat, spreading your slick all over your clit, making you cry out. He inserts one of his large fingers inside of you causing you to clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “Joel please, I need you now, I need, I need you!” You gasp out. You’re unsure how he could handle all this teasing, all you know is that you want his cock inside of you right now and the longer he takes, the more torturous this all becomes. Joel gently pushes you to the floor. He inserts another finger inside of you, and then another. “Joel baby ahh please!” Your cunt throbs around his fingers, you’re so close to your climax, and even though this is the most intense amount of pleasure you’ve ever felt, you can’t seem to get to that much needed sweet release, you think it might actually drive you insane. 

“Need t’make sure you’re prepared, baby” Joel pants. He doesn’t seem like he’s doing much better than you are, and it’s a delicious sight. His eyes wide and wild, skin flushed and sweaty. His muscles are tense, like he’s doing everything he can to hold himself back from straight up ravishing you. 

You grab him by the jaw and bark “NOW!” Desperate for him to stop holding back and just start 

His eyes darken and you see a hint of a smile show up on his face, but it’s different. If you weren’t so horny you might have otherwise found this expression frightening. He swiftly snatches his hand out of you and toward his member, you can’t help the groan that escapes from your lips. He positions himself right at your entrance before thrusting himself fully inside of you, the sensation so intense you can’t help but let out a loud moan that was probably closer to a scream. You both sit there panting for a couple of seconds, you look up at him and he’s squeezing his eyes, trying and failing to hold back groans and growls between his breaths. You realize he’s trying to give you time to adjust, and he’s really struggling. You grind your hips toward his, silently telling him it’s okay, keep moving which results in Joel letting out a sharp hiss before he starts moving.

It’s not long at all before he’s pounding into you with everything he’s got. His hands all over you, caressing your face, teasing your breasts, desperately grabbing at your thighs. With sweat dripping down his whole body and mingling with yours, his eyes are crazed, looking you over while you fall apart around him. Your eyes flutter shut as you get close… close…so close when one of his hands fly to your throat. While continuing to thrust at a punishing pace, he brings his face close enough to kiss you and between pants he growls out:

 “LOOK.   AT.   ME.” 

You immediately open your eyes and your orgasm hits you in waves, stronger and stronger, flooding and overwhelming your senses. You see he’s close too, his hips stutter and the rhythm you two had is now lost, Joel is pounding into you with everything he’s got until you feel him release inside of you. You two collapse into each other, exhausted, 

You cuddle yourself into him, nuzzling your face into his chest. After a few minutes, Joel clears his throat and speaks up and you’ve never heard him sound so nervous: “I’ve been wantin to do that for a very long time now…but if…” He trails off, takes a deep breath and continues: “If you don’t wanna mention this… I mean if you wanna forget all this happened I would respect that.” 

You shift your weight to sit up just a little and bring your hand to his cheek. Joel closes his eyes, he can't help but lean into your hand. You speak up: “I’ve been wanting this for a while too, Joel.” 

Joel leans over toward you, and presses his lips against yours. “Alright then.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Sweetest Nectar

Yandere Sundew Plant Man x Gender Neutral Luna Moth Fae Reader CW: Noncon, no pain, drugging, aphrodisiac nectar, lured in, bondage, reader done gets violated by the tentacles, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, reader rides that dick like a cowboy, making out, french kissing, general yandere behavior, seed oviposition Word Count: 1.4k (Comm I got late last night. Wrote half before 5am this morning and the rest tonight. The name Lasio comes from the sundew subgenus Lasiocephala. Hope you all enjoy <3)

The only sound you could hear was that of the wind as it whooshed by while you fluttered without a care in the world through the purple sky. Partly cloudy, a nice breeze, no bothersome humans in this realm at all. A lovely summer evening in the realm of the fairies.

You were a luna moth type fairy. Your large pale jade wings and antenna serving as a dead give away. Not that it mattered when you were away from the land of the humans. When you were on Earth you could easily disguise yourself though, so it was never a problem. But here you were totally free to be as nature intended.

You flitted between the great flowers, many as great as trees, collecting various types of nectar to feed on later. You went at this task for a couple hours before deciding to feed on your spoils in a nice clearing near the crystal creek.

After a nice day fluttering all about it was nice to sit down and begin to relax. You sipped from one of your many vials of nectar and enjoyed the birdsong all around you. It was so peaceful here. A true paradise. You tried to spend as much time as possible here, avoiding the human world as much as possible.

With a heavy sigh you willed yourself up and readied yourself to collect more nectar and maybe some pollen for tomorrow. It took much to sustain you. It seemed you were in luck. As the wind shifted, before you even took to the sky, you caught the alluring scent of nectar.

It was the most alluring floral scent you had ever experienced, there was probably quite a lot of fresh high quality nectar. Your antennae were twitching like crazy and even though you had just had a snack you had to wipe away drool from your mouth because you were salivating so intensely.

You leapt up and began flying towards the wondrous aroma at once.

It didn’t take long for you to find it. A long vine with lovely red globules of nectar. You tried to collect one but found that they were quite a bit sticky. Terrifyingly sticky… no matter what you did you couldn’t get free. What’s more you found yourself wrapped in the vine the more you struggled.

Soon you found yourself covered in the sticky goop, its heady aroma practically drowning you. Your head grew dizzy as a heat pooled in your crotch.

Just what was this stuff?

You were stuck for a while longer and found yourself actually grinding into the sticky vine that held you, you knew you should be trying to think of a way to escape… but you were so horny… you needed to cum so bad. It was all you could think about. Your antenna vibrated with agitation at your inability to get yourself off in your current predicament, with your hands held uselessly at your sides.

Once you started to cry it became evident just what mess you had found yourself in exactly.

A man stepped out of the brush. A plant man with long sticky tentacles sprouting from his head and another mass of them branching out from his tail. They were green at the base, transitioned into a lemon yellow, and were tipped with the red globules you found yourself ensnared in.

Due to your drug-like effects of the sap you had been coated in you did not even realize the danger that you were in.

“Ah~ Pl-please help! I need help. Stuck.” You kept fidgeting. You needed to touch yourself so badly!! You couldn’t even put together that this man standing before you was the one who had trapped you in the first place.

“Of course cutie! I’m your new boyfriend, Lasio. And I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I didn’t help you out~”

You did not even question what he had said, you were just too needy by that point.

At Lasio’s whim the sticky nectar became slick and slippery, but before you could get your hands to your aching crotch the vines of his tail wrapped around you tightly and drew you closer. You whimpered due to being denied the use of your hands but it quickly turned into a moan as the tip of one of the vines dipped into your pants and rubbed you thoroughly.

It pressed and massaged your entrance and you cried and begged for more. He was inclined to oblige you. The slippery appendage slid into deeply, coating your insides with the potent fluid that had already made you lose control.

You writhed and squirmed in pure sexual bliss, more stimulated than before.

But Lasio didn’t stop there, he brought your squirming form close and stilled you with a touch, his hands holding your head steady as he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past your lips and caressed your tongue before exploring your mouth. It was dripping with the same sweet substance that had covered your body and been deposited into your hole.

You sucked at it eagerly as you moaned softly. You absolutely couldn’t get enough.

When Lasio withdrew his tentacle like vine from you you were ready to cry in protest. It left you so empty and hollow. So needy to be filled up. Then you saw why he had removed himself from you. His cock was fully erect. It was bright yellow with a sweet looking bead of amber nectar dribbling out.

There was nothing you wanted more in this world than to be plowed by your brand new boyfriend. And there was nothing in the world that Lasio wanted more than to sink his cock into you and fill you with his seeds.

Lasio sat down on a soft patch of grass. He grabbed you gently with one of his tails and guided you over to him then pulled you down into his lap.

You understood what he needed and sat down on his cock, your well lubed hole taking him just as perfectly as his cock filled that void in you. You steadied yourself with your hands on his muscular green pecs. Your antenna twitched and lightly touched him as he grabbed your hips in his strong hands.

The sensation was indescribable as you moved yourself up and down on his prick, riding him and doing most of the work in your desperation for release. With a dazed and far away look you stared at him but you weren’t really paying much attention to anything other than the physical sensation of impaling yourself on his dick.

Lasio pulled you close and nipped at your lip gently then pressed his lips against your passionately. Reveling in the feel of your soft lips against his had him almost as intoxicated as you were.

You rode his cock until you were simply too spent to keep moving. You had already cum several mind shattering times by that point but even in your exhaustion you were no less desperate to continue making love with your wonderful partner.

“You’ve done so well for me, let me take over now my sweet moth.”

Lasio, priding himself on being the very best boyfriend ever, would never deprive you of your needs. He grasped your ass firmly and thrust into you over and over. You melted into his chest, body pressed against his with your face nestled comfortably into his neck as he thrust into you. This entire time he hadn’t yet came but he was getting close, his movements gradually became fast and sloppy as he chased his own release.

He grunted and his spasming cock flooded you with more than just semen but also many small literal seeds. The feeling of his dick twitching inside you made you squeal before going limp against him. Finally you felt sated as you wrapped your arms around Lasio and kissed him lovingly.

“Mmm, I bet you’ll grow my seeds just as well as you took my cock~”

Of course you would! You’d happily bear your lover’s children. As many as he needed you to! For once an insectoid fae had tasted of the sundew man’s nectar and then got themselves seeded by him their love for one another would be eternal.

[cemeteryspider]

Rooted in Love

Gambit! Remy LeBeau x Poison Ivy! Reader

Summary: During the attack on Genosha you took the hit that would have killed Remy, luckily all he had to do was put his trust in Kurt to keep you safe.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Near Death Experience, Emotional Distress

Word Count: 1127

I allowed myself a breath. My plants surrounded me in my small greenhouse at the X-Mansion. The feeling of vines, stems, roots and lush flowers against my face and arms kept me grounded.

'Just keep breathing'

The pollen tickled the inside of my nose and I breathed it in like my teammates would breathe air.

'Her heart's beating faster, that is a good thing right?'

Your team. Where were you? Where were they?

~~~

Meanwhile, a mind away Remy looked down at your almost lifeless body. Madelyne Pryor projecting positive thoughts into your head to help draw your focus away from the painful injuries inflicted on your body by the sentinels. Magneto was badly injured and Rogue was looking worse for wear.

Neither were in any condition to fly, but still, they focused and aimed to get you to the mainland of Africa. Still, the burn marks on Magneto and Rogue's head wounds were not making good progress in their abilities.

Gambit was losing hope that he would get to see you again. To hear your pretty laughter, see your dazzling eyes, and feel your warm touch.

That's when Kurt appeared next to you, and looked at him. His eyebrows creased, Kurt would not be able to make it to the mainland. He would tire until he sent the two of you into the ocean, but there was something in his eyes.

He was physically hurt, "Trust me, mein Freund", but Kurt's determination was palpable.

"Gambit trusts you", If he said no you would die, if he said yes there was a chance you wouldn't. It wasn't a hard decision.

"Come back to me, cher," He placed a quick kiss on your forehead.

Kurt carried you in his arms and started running. He gained momentum, and he was gone. Quickly, the two of you became a dot in his field of vision, all he could do was pray.

~~~

Salty air entered my nostrils but I could've sworn I was just home, in my greenhouse. I peeled my eyelids open suddenly aware of my location. I was in Nightcrawler's arms crossing the ocean. Kurt looked worse for wear, but as the sleep leaves my eyes I understand that I must look worse.

Stabbing pain started entering my mind as what I could only assume was a telepath's attempt to block the pain wear off. I sucked air in through my teeth sharply, and Kurt looked down at me briefly.

The dark circles and half-lidded eyes gave away the utter exhaustion that must be in his bones. I forced my head to the side to see the sandy coastline of Africa. The trees, flowers, and grass seemed to reach out to you, and again your eyes closed.

~~~

The two of you were so close. Kurt used the last of his strength, but this last push didn't quite make it. You both fell through the air into the cold ocean. The two of you floated just below the surface, and Kurt tried to move his limbs but they just wouldn't seem to move, limbs like lead.

He closed his eyes, understanding that this could be the end. He let two of his friends down, he would let his sister down.

His mind stewed for a moment until he felt a light touch. Algae brushed him up to the surface and the seaweed below him pulled him by his arms to the shore.

When he was close enough he started to army crawl further onto the shore. The local flora pulls your body across the sandy beach, leaves wrapping around your whole body, and soft pink flowers cushioning your head.

When he stopped feeling the waves lap at his feet, he allowed the side of his face to drop into the sand. Exhaustion finally overcame his ability to stay awake.

~~~

When Gambit and Rogue were finally able to get the jet off the ground and to the shore there was a stillness in him. Gambit was never still, and the lack of movement or incessant talking made Rouge twitch with nerves.

Before the plane was even on the ground, Gambit looked about ready to jump out and begin his search. His eyes scan the sandy surface trying to find any sign of you or his fuzzy friend.

"We'll find them, Sugar" Rogue put a gloved hand on his shoulder, and a year ago he would have melted into the touch. Now it just made him want your comfort even more.

"There!," Rogue was pointing to a blue blob on the shore which could only be one person, "Kurt!"

She began to quickly fly over to him, and Gambit was forced to run which was considerably slower than her flight.

"Kurt? Are you okay? Oh my gosh sugar, I can feel your temperature through my gloves," Her hands cupped his face, and he slowly started to come back to the present.

"Rogue? Where's Y/n?," He tried to push himself off the ground but his sister quickly brought him into her arms.

"Don't worry about that right now sugar, we'll find them, I'm gonna get you to the jet first so you can cool down"

With a weak nod, Rogue picked him up in her arms and gently flew them over to the jet.

Gambit scanned the surroundings anxiously. "Where are you, cher? Come on, give Gambit a sign, s'il vous plaît" Almost like magic a trail of pretty pink flowers appeared in front of him, "Well, I'll be damned,” he murmured under his breath.

He followed the trail a little ways into the trees where it was considerably cooler and definitely more green. It wasn't long before the flowers stopped before a giant blooming pink flower. Carefully, he pulled one petal down to take a look inside, and low and behold there you were.

Glistening with morning dew, and the cuts and bruises were nearly gone. The rest of the petals peeled back, allowing him to hold you close in his arms, "God, cher, I thought I lost you."

He placed his face in the crook of your neck allowing himself to just hold you and feel you when he felt your hand gently caress his face.

"Hey, baby," You whispered in a hushed voice, "I'm okay, I promise."

In every retelling of this story, Gambit would never say he cried, but you know he did. Telling the story to the kids at the academy and eventually your own kids, you would mime exaggerated sobs behind the man telling the story. 

And in every single battle you ever fought together, he made sure that you were always by his side. Though he made you promise you wouldn't sacrifice yourself for him again, you knew you would do it again in a heartbeat.

[stayevildarling]

Agatha Harkness x Reader- Spellbound

A/N: based on a request and results of this poll ❤️

tw/tags: nsfw, female reader, G!P Agatha, inexperienced reader, suggestive, flirty Agatha, mention of hex (sex pollen) mention of breeding, oral, Agatha recieving, reader recieving, mommy kink

word count: 3.6k

taglist:

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay, @laavaagirl,@wtfffisgoingon , @milflovers4 , @ahintofchaos , @brekker157

Today was another day with Agatha. The older woman and witch had been teaching you for several months now after you tried a few academies where you used to live, only to be turned away as they were all full and getting guided toward being taught in private and stumbling over Westview and the witch residing there. At first you had no idea what to do with yourself, not knowing anything about magic other than remembering some mumbling about it during your childhood and the random outbursts that you couldn‘t understand.

The brunette had taken you in, allowing you private lessons in her house, ultimately her basement with several spell books and all kind of magic items. Over the months the two of you got along well and Agatha managed to teach you the basic spells to the point your magic grew more advanced, being able to perfect it well, even try your own spells and potions. By now you were only really around to stay in her company as there had been a chemistry between you from the beginning and both of you could tell.

„I have some errands to run today dear“ she told you after greeting you and you got started on the same book you had been working on for a while. „That‘s fine“ you smile at her, seeing her in a beige blazer, the same coloured flowy pants, her usual jewrely and details as well as some reading glasses. Her hands ghost over your shoulders in that all too familiar way before she leaves you to it. And as soon as you hear the front door upstairs, you begin with the book, eyes flying over the pages before you stumble upon something you hadn‘t seen before.

The spell looked simple really, deepening connections and your own magic, awareness and sensation. You begin by laying out your usual items, making sure you had read the instructions properly before whispering the words. At first nothing happens and you assume you may have done it wrong or with how old the page looks that you may have stumbled upon a spell that was wrong. But then you feel a warmth, spreading through your body. It‘s slow and gentle at first but it quickly spreads like a fire, leaving you trembling, panting and sweating.

You couldn‘t tell what went wrong or what you needed exactly but you needed relief. Your entire body feels on fire, as if you can feel every single muscle and nerves, heart beating incredibly fast. All you can do is grip the table in front of you to the points your knuckles are turning white. At last Agatha returns, even though it feels like minutes to you it had been a few hours as the woman trusted your abilities by now. She expects to hear the usual sounds of your magic practice downstairs, flicks of energy, whispers of incarnations but instead there is silence.

For a moment she even thinks you may have left already even though that wasn‘t like you but when she sees your bag and coat by the door she grows curious. She makes her way into her basement, finding you standing by the table, gripping the edges of the table tight, too tight. You don‘t turn to greet her like you usually do, instead your entire body is tense and a red flush creeps up your neck. Her eyebrows furrow before she teases „Well well, look who is all serious today“ the amusement in her tone is clear as she steps behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

„What has gotten you all wound up sweetheart?“ she asks curiously as she reads over the pages of the book that still lays open on the table. You flinch, just barely but of course she notices. And then she understands, seeing the open page of the book, your breathing shallow, a little line of sweat on your forehead and your fingers twitching almost unsure as what to do with yourself. The witch can feel your magic humming in the air, uncontrolled, restless and desperate.

Agatha hums knowingly, obviously already having connected the dots but enjoying this nevertheless. „Did you mess something up while I was gone?“ she asks curiously her voice playful. You glance at her and the answer is enough before she whispers „Maybe I should punish you“ which causes you to press your legs together at the tone of her voice and words. You exhale sharply, squeezing your eyes shut before whispering „I- I didn‘t mean to“.

The woman tilts her head to the side before turning you around, wanting to meet your gaze. „Didn‘t mean to what?“ she asks curiously as she steps away and leans against the table opposite you. You don‘t answer at first, shruddering under her intense gaze. „You tried a connection spell didn‘t you doll?“ she asks curiously before you nod and look away in embarrassment . „Poor thing, that wasn‘t a power boost silly, it was a heat spell“ she explains with a slight smirk on her lips.

„No wonder you are squriming“ she teases as she steps forward again. You make a soft noise, almost a whimper trying to pull away as the embarrassment overwhelms you for a moment. But she simply drags her hands down your arm, fingertips softly ghosting over your skin and then it happens, you whimper. It‘s quiet but loud enough for her to hear and the heat to travel straight to your face as your eyes widen and you understand what just happened. Agatha stops her movements for a moment before you see the deep smirk on her lips.

„Oh sweetheart.. you‘re burning up, aren‘t you?“ she pouts and you nod weakly as the back of her hand touches your cheeks and forehead to confirm. Her voice is sinful now, dripping with both amusement and seduction as you face her again. Your pupils are blown wide, lips slightly parted as you are trying to hold yourself together, feeling the heat travelling lower and lower with each second passing. Agatha catches your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes meet hers. „All you need to do is say the word and I‘ll help you darling“ she whispers before stepping away again, hopping onto the table opposite you casually.

For a moment the world stays still as you realize what is actually happening, what she is offering and suggesting you here. For a second everything overwhelms you as the thoughts circle in your mind. Thoughts of doubt and uncertainty considering she was teaching you and much older and you enjoyed getting taught by her but all you can focus is the way she is sitting, legs slightly spread and that knowing grin on her lips and you can‘t hold back.

„Please“ you whimper, louder this time, so desperate it matches how you feel inside, wanting nothing more for this feeling to go away and knowing the only person able to do this and you want to share this with being the woman in front of you. Agatha hums in satisfaction as she studies you, stepping towards you again and her grip firm on your hips. „Poor thing“ she whispers as she leans closer to your ear. „You must have been suffering so much while I was gone“ she pouts and you nod breathlessly.

Heat spreads through you even more and for a second you think you may explode under her intense gaze and gentle touch despite her body pressing against you strong and solid. Her fingers dance along your ribs before her lips ghost over yours and for a moment you close your eyes thinking she may kiss you before she pulls away again, leaving you breathless. „I could help you I suppose“ she whispers before smirking. „But I think I‘d enjoy it more to watch you beg a little first“. Your eyes pry open, finding hers so close before you stutter „Ag- Agatha“.

„Oh sweet girl, you sound so desperate already“ she sighs before she pulls back enough to study you again. Slowly and deliberately she squeezes your chin before you can‘t take it any more „Tell me how bad you want this“ she whispers before you almost cry in desperation, feeling the tears stinging in your eyes. „Please Agatha - I need you“ you whisper and that‘s all she needs to hear, the words causing her own pupils to blow as she captures your lips in a kiss at last, rough, possesive and so damn hot. She grips your waist, pulling you against her as your chest collides and you lose yourself in the kiss, lips wet and aching for the older woman.

She sends a pool of heat through you, already able to feel your soaked underwear at this point as she begins pushing you against the wooden desk behind you, legs weak under her intense touch. As she pushes you back further and further she begins exploring you a little, moaning into your ear, mouth exploring your neck as well as her tongue. In a swift motion she had your flannel ripped from you, exposing your flushed chest, the black bralette that drives her crazy as her eyes fly over your hardened nipples that undeniably show and how excited she feels to unwrap the rest of you.

But as she steps between your legs you can feel it and she has you gasping and freezing at the same time. Your wide eyes drop before she stops, immediately noticing your hesitation as she stops attacking your neck and looks at you. „What is it sweetheart?“ she asks a little concerned before your gaze drops to something hard between her legs. „I um.. didn‘t know you um“ you stammer before she realizes. „Have a cock?“ she asks so casually that it almost causes you to choke on the air. She watches your expression, the excitement but hesitation and she can‘t help but smirk in amusement.

„Does that.. does that mean you could get me pregnant?“ you ask and she can‘t help but chuckle lowly „Oh sweetheart, you really are a little innocent thing aren‘t you?“ she asks which causes your cheeks to go red yet again. „Yes I could knock you up right now if you wanted to“ she giggles as your mouth hangs wide open from her boldness. „But don‘t worry sweet thing“ she quickly composes herself as she brushes your cheek with her fingers „I know plenty of spells to prevent that“ she reassures before capturing your lips in a kiss again that has you melting right into her. „Don‘t worry, I‘ll take care of everything“ she reassures and you nod into her before her hands reach for your hips, lifting you up and sitting you on the desk as she begins undressing your lower half.

By the time your clothes hit the floor underneath you, the older woman is already between your legs, hands firm against your thighs as she begins exploring your aching pussy with her mouth. She is slow and gentle at first, assuming you hadn‘t done this too many times before or maybe not even at all and despite how much she wanted you, how much she wanted you to scream her name and make you fall apart, she wanted to make this special for you. Once her tongue comes into contact with your clit, your entire body relaxes for a moment before the pure bliss takes over, head thrown back in pleasure despite how hot the image is to have the older woman in between your legs, diving into you as if she is addicted to the taste already.

„Oh babygirl you taste so good“ she moans, her words sending vibrations through you as you grip the wooden table underneath you. She can tell you wouldn‘t last long, your first orgasm already approaching fast with how much she had been teasing you and with how strong this kind of hex was. Agatha wastes no time in teasing your entrance with her fingers, her tongue relentless at this point as your soft whimpers and moans fill her basement and she never wanted to hear anything else ever again, already addicted to you. „So good mm“ you moan, tears of pleasure streaming down your face before the knot in your stomach feels like bursting. „I“ you struggle but she shushes you as her hands stay firm on your legs. „Cum for me sweet girl, I promise it will feel so good“ and so you do, letting the woman elope you in this feeling as you cum undone on her tongue, your juices flowing down her as she licks up every last drop, only coming up to let you taste yourself on her tongue.

By the time you come down from your high, your chest is still heaving, eyes forcing open as you look at her, mouth slightly agape as she stands between you still, eyes searching yours. For a moment she isn‘t sure whether the hex was finished, your entire magic still all over the place. Agatha watches as your eyes go a shade darker, almost as if the desperation from the spell is replaced with something even stronger, lust and desire for the woman. She had been flirting with you for months and teasing you but you never felt ready and you knew by now she wasn‘t seeing anyone, wasn‘t interested in anyone else as she was anything but subtle.

„That better sweetheart?“ she asks curiously before you practically jump at her, innocence and shyness gone as you stand despite your legs feeling wobbly, despite your heart pounding as your lips crash against her own, pushing her into the table at the opposite end of the room until her back collapses against it. Without another thought you go on your knees, pulling her trousers down, wanting to see, wanting to feel what she had told you. Once her cock springs free and you see how hard she is, you waste no time in glancing at her, wanting to make sure she wanted this and by her expression, the way her lips are parted and eyes wide in shock and lust you waste no time.

Your tongue licks around the tip before you slowly take her into your mouth, almost as if you had been doing this a thousand times before and the older woman is so taken back that all she can do is grip your hair tight as she guides your head backwards and forwards until she is completely inside your mouth, surprised with how well you are taking her length and how you aren‘t even gagging, simply carrying on and on and driving her so much closer to her own orgasm. But then she realizes what is happening, how you are topping her, how she gave control to you and that‘s one thing Agatha simply didn‘t do. She drags you up by your collar with practiced ease despite wanting to whimper at the loss of your perfect mouth.

„Confident now are we?“ she murmurs as her lips attack your neck and before you know it she has you in her arms, legs wrapped around her waist before she carries you upstairs, so caught up in the moment and by your mouths exploring each other that you don‘t fully realize she is taking you through the house and into her bedroom. As soon as she lays you down on her bed she is all over you, hands roaming your body before she looks at you, really looks at you, seeing how beautiful you are, how obedient and perfect and how she had been wanting to do this from the first day you ever walked into her house with your notebook and pen wanting to learn from the older witch.

„Fuck Agatha“ you pant as she takes one of your hardened nipples into her mouth, messy and biting sligthly. „I want you please“ you whisper loud enough for her to hear. „You‘re gonna have to get a little more specific“ she smirks confident as ever before your voice wavers „Fuck me Aggie, please I want your cock inside me please“ you almost cry and your begging has her in another dimension as she happily does just that, aligining her tip with your dripping pussy before entering you. Gently at first and so much unlike her and each other‘s needs but all she can see right now is the trust in your eyes, the vulnerability and how this wasn‘t the hex anymore, the older woman being able to tell.

„Oh“ you gasp as soon as she pushes her tip inside, stretching you so perfectly as your eyes force closed at the sensation of having the brunette inside of you. „God- please“ you cry unable to contain how much you wanted this, how bad you wanted to make her feel good and how badly you wanted to cum on her. Agatha doesn‘t hesitate then, pushing in further and further until she is all the way in and surprisingly you take her so well, despite her length, despite how much she is stretching you. „Baby you‘re so tight“ she whimpers as she hovers above you on the bed, unable to deny how good you feel and how she is slowly losing her composure and dominance with you.

„Can you feel - that- darling..“ she pants and you force your eyes open locking with her own. „Mommy is stretching your tight little pussy so well“ she moans and her words send a shiver through your entire body, heart pounding and stomach flipping. With her free hand she takes yours and puts it on your lower abdomen before she smirks despite her own pleasure „Feel how deep mommy is inside you“ she gasps. Something overtakes you then, maybe the fact she called herself mommy multiple times, maybe the fact she was technically your teacher, maybe your huge crush on her or just the feeling of her cock inside you and each other‘s wetness echoing through the quiet bedroom.

„Please can you- can you cum inside me?“ you whisper before she lets out a ragged gasp. „Sweetie“ she hesitates but you don‘t care, don‘t care about the consequences wanting nothing more than for her to fill you up to the brim with her warm liquid. „I don‘t care“ you murmur before she can‘t take it. She always wanted to have you like this, have you begging for her, waking up many times to the thought of this and having to touch herself in order to feel relief for aching for you like this. And now she couldn‘t stop herself. Her right hand moves to your hair gripping it tight again before her left hand reaches for your leg, putting it over her shoulder and hitting into you even harder, the newfound angle sending you both over the edge quickly.

In the end Agatha has you screaming for her, your orgasm washing over you both at the same time „Mommy“ you cry out as her eyes search yours, telling you to keep them open and on her as you cum undone and once you feel her liquid filling you up you cum a second time seconds later. The two of you are breathless by the time she moves your leg from her shoulder and she collapses beside you on the bed. There is silence for a while, the two of you collecting your breathing and waiting for the rush and adrenaline of it all to slow down a little. You are the first to open your eyes, unable to believe this just happened and unsure whether this was maybe just another one of your dreams about the woman you had desired for the longest time now.

As your eyes dart towards Agatha her eyes are closed, lips slightly parted and a hint of a smirk playing on her features. When she notices you shifting onto your side she turns as well, meeting your eyes and tugging some hair behind your ears as she allows herself to take you in fully. „I‘m so glad you accidentally discovered that hex sweetie“ she chuckles lowly and you can‘t help yourself for giggling a little as well as your cheeks go red all over again. Agatha watches you carefully, despite her dominance and everything that happened, caring about your wellbeing more than anything and that you are comfortable with her. She watches you go from content, to shy to very quiet and thoughtful in moments and her eyebrows furrow as she senses something behind your beautiful eyes.

„What is it?“ she asks almost a little worried before your eyes almost grow teary. „Does this mean I won‘t get to come here anymore now?“ you ask, almost small and her heart shatters at your words and the sadness in your voice. „I just mean.. for teaching“ you admit, realizing you may have hinted at your by now obvious feelings for the older woman a little too much. But she is quick to move closer and scoop you into her arms. Her eyes search yours, filled with reassurance and kindness as she wipes some of your tears. „Sweetheart if you think I‘m ever going to let you go after that you are very wrong“ she jokes a little but her features and eyes are so serious that you know she means every word. You almost sigh in relief before she moves a little „Now come on let me clean you up“ she offers as she extracts a hand to you and by the fire in her eyes you could tell this night was far from over.

[anlian-aishang]

You had heard that he only got two to three hours of sleep per night, and as your overnights with him grew more and more frequent, then to the point of living together, you found that to be true, but misleading. Levi’s insomnia was indeed a persistent thief of his chances for a sound night of rest, but your relationship was his rehabilitation. 

tags: levi x reader, established relationship (spouses), fluff, ambiguverse, food mention, gn!reader

word count: 4700

Spring mornings were now a household holiday. Whether it was a sunrise coffee together, a walk to the downtown bakery, or simply stepping outside to feel the warm air’s hug – no matter how varied the activity, the feeling was always the same. Never explicitly spoken, but mutually shared and understood, There was no better way to start the day.

One of those mornings, you couldn’t remember which exactly, you had ventured to the local library and each picked out a few books. When you got home, you set them on a window sill and murmured some vague suggestions as to when you might get to them. Who knows how long ago that was? Long enough to have collected dust atop the covers, to Levi’s discovery and dismay as he cleaned. “...Should probably get to these.”

That led you to where you were now, and where you had been for the last few mornings, each of you snared in your own cozy rope hammock. Close enough that you could catch glances of one another, but distanced such that you had to raise your voice a little to be clearly understood. You were putting the final touches on your latest sketch, Levi was reading one of the loans - the dark, dense novel that you had abandoned a couple weeks ago. You were absorbed by details. He was deep into the plot. The singsong of returning birds and the buzzing of awakening bugs, nature filled the silence between you.  

You were not sure how much time had passed, but you knew it must have been a decent while. The side of your hand had grown dark from all the back and forths along your sketchpad. The eraser you started with was hardly a nub now. The sun must have started to shine since, its warmth tinting Levi’s cheeks ever so slightly.

You sheathed your pencil through the loops of your sketchbook, at last satisfied with the final result. With one final look, you affirmed yourself and shot your glance to Levi, eager to flip the page around and show him your latest masterpiece. However, when you caught sight of him, you froze. Despite parted lips, the words stuck in your throat. Suddenly, your work of art seemed to lose its appeal. The greyscale of graphite was remarkably dull when it was the foreground to Levi Ackerman. His ivory skin had adopted a tan shade, overcast by a canopy of leaves. His jet black hair was somehow glowing, the sun’s spotlight haloing his head. Light winds sifted through his bangs and the wrinkles of his cotton half-sleeve, the pollen it carried causing him to lift his wrist to his nose now and then. The pastel aura of spring, brought about by budding flowers or perhaps rose-colored lenses, showed a side of him that few would see. Instead of shadows coating his rigid features, pure light showcased his best ones.

Without thought, you swung your legs over the side of your cot and left the sketchbook in your place. For those few steps from your hammock to his, you felt at one with the birds and the bees: light as a feather, warm and fuzzy all over, like you were flying to nectar after waiting all winter.

Together this long, you did not let your clumsy flop next to him embarrass you at all, and Levi was likewise unbothered by it. Your cheek was in soft opposition to his chiseled collarbone, as he looked down to you, his eyes aligned with the contact: gentle, yet steely.

“Weren’t you the one who insisted on buying two?” Feigned annoyance was offset by his movements, guiding his arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side.

With your head soundly on his chest, you looked up to him, “They were on sale!”

His response was silent, but you could feel the brief exhale of his lungs, a tickled sigh.

Right side now preoccupied with securing his bunkmate, Levi propped his hardcover in his left arm, fingers folded over the top border, the crook of his elbow aligned straight with the book’s spine. Gradually, absentmindedly, the angle of the prose began to tip as his muscles relaxed. His head would tilt to accommodate and grant his eyes the appropriate angle. This cause and effect went on and on, and before either of you knew it, his head was completely laid on his shoulder, the book had drifted closed, and he had dozed off. 

It took you a while to notice. The rise and fall of his chest was as steady as it always had been. Awake or asleep, he was equally unbothered by any environment, calm in every storm. 

Storm? You lifted your head slightly, gently, so as not to disturb his rest, and looked to the west. The heavenly clouds were growing corrupted by the showers that would satiate the earth, but not without cost. You figured that the weather was far enough that you could afford to wake him gradually, he woke up with startle often enough. 

You draped your arm over his torso, hand cupped his shoulder, thumb at the crook of his neck. This all seemed to have the opposite effect, as you felt your insides awakening while he remained fast asleep. Through light and airy fabric, the chisel of his body was impossible to ignore. His chest was so symmetrically divided, his abdomen so mirrored, row after row of muscles. Your fingers acted on their own desire, tracing his middle from neck to waistline. If you pressed hard enough, you would feel the slightest damp of sweat, momentarily sticking his clothing to his skin. The times that he shifted or breathed somewhat sharply, you instantly snapped your hand back. It was as if you had forgotten what you were doing in the first place. Though your intent was to stir him awake, your nerves felt the opposite, as though you were trying not to get caught, stealing from the cookie jar or sneaking around past midnight. 

In the end, despite your efforts, you could not claim the credit for waking him successfully. Just a stone’s throw away, a low thunder roared and shook the ground beneath you. With the smallest twitch, Levi flinched awake. Always quick to recognize a situation, even faster to act on it, he flipped you both out of the bed, grabbed you by the hand, and ran you both inside. A handful of minutes later, just before the downfall, he returned to the yard, sprinting in bare feet, to grab the sketchbook you had long forgotten about. 

Summer afternoons outdoors together. While you planted flowers, he did the rest: pulling weeds, trimming the hedges, and sweeping the deck. Even with the long list of tasks he gave himself, your hours of gardening outnumbered his hours of handling everything else. It irritated him slightly, the idea of idling around while you were working hard - perched on sore knees, covered in dirt - he’d have to bathe you later. 

“Just let me help you.”

Stern voice rained down, his short stature cast a long shadow over your kneeling stance. As with everything, Levi chose to be deliberate, standing in a way that allowed him to shield your eyes from the glaring sun. 

With your soil-caked glove, you nudged him back. Levi clenched his teeth as your handprint stain soaked through his linen. Mud cool on his shin. “No thanks,” you smiled in earnest, “I’ve got this.”

Levi used the back of his hand to wipe a strand of hair from your eyes, he sighed with the recognition that it had been glued to your face in sweat. “I know you can do it, but you know it could be done faster.”

You tilted your head and countered, “Why would I want to be done faster? I’m in my happy place.”

Levi pinched his brows in doubt, it was hard to believe that something so laborious and filthy could be enjoyable. Although, he supposed the same could be said about him. Every week, he did the dirty work - scraping the gaps between tiles, scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees, dusting the spaces you forgot existed.

“Any other housework you’d like done?” Levi already knew the answer, for he had completed every other chore, aiming to finish at the same time as you, but despite his most thorough efforts, you were still working and refusing his help.

You turned, looking as though a lost thought had dawned on you, “Oh, actually, there is one thing you could do…” your smile opposed your words, “leave me alone.”

Levi’s eyes widened, “What was that, brat?”

“Oh, come on…” you teased and shoved him back even further, “Relax. It’s the weekend. You’re so high strung.”

Everyone seemed to label him that way, but your opinion was the only one he trusted and the only one he cared about. How long had he prioritized your happiness? At least all of today so far. Seeking confirmation, he met your eye contact, in which you communicated clearly: Thanks, but I’m fine, your job is to look after yourself, too.

“Well,” Levi opened his hip and started back towards the porch, “don’t hesitate to get me when you change your mind.”

“If.”

With his back to you, he rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, you did your best to silence your giggles with a bite of your lip. Who was really the brat here?

His gaze landed on your outdoor set, the one he had bought and assembled for you, but never used himself. Levi grazed his fingers along the armrests then pressed his palm against the cushion, Not bad. Inch by hesitant inch, he finally allowed himself to take a seat. Though he was pleased with the feel of the furniture itself, it also seemed as though each of his nerves was stinging, irritated at the sight of you working while he sat in the shade. Levi closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, and when he opened them, refreshed lenses viewed the scene differently. 

If Levi could tell his younger self that his life would turn out like this, well, he wasn’t even sure how that kid would’ve reacted, probably something like “fuck off” or “yeah, right.” Owning a home that overlooked acres, cabinets full of food, and a loving spouse to share it all with. Reflecting on all the aspects of his life that had made the 180 from dire to perfect, he had to gaze upon you to convince himself that this was real. In each passing second, his situation became more believable. The life beyond his wildest dreams - those in which he was warm, safe, and housed - had come into reach and landed in his grip. All thanks to you. 

A tired yet contented sigh fell past his lips, and despite the considerable space between his chair and your garden, you caught the lovely sound. Over your shoulder, you glanced back at him. Your worn sunhat and the willow’s leaves hid most of your figure, but with a narrow squint and dilated pupils, your playful wave and toothy smile shined through. His chest fell with a single huff, what you considered his chuckle, maybe you were right - he had been high strung lately. Wind carried the songs of swallows. White clouds blocked the harsh sun. A bit hot, but that was fixed with the unbuttoning of his shirt and the removal of his shoes. By undressing, the breeze complemented the perspiration that enveloped his chest and arms, beckoning another satisfied exhale. Just like that, there was nothing to be upset about, nothing on his mind, the most important condition for his chance at rest. 

The elbow cuff of his sleeve served as a cushion to the armrest. Cheekbone rested on the base of his hand. Wooden chair his frame, its canvas coating his mattress. Summer heat his blanket, overworked hand his pillow. Good enough, but he had already drifted off before that crossed his mind. 

Fall evenings in your ranch home. Apples from the orchard. Cider from the market. The hue of candle flames matched those of the sunset sky and leafy ground. Stew simmered on your gas-fueled range, ready for whenever one or both of you craved it. Wind whistled through your chimes, decaying tree branches cracked under its pressure.

Levi brewed the accompanying tea while you dashed the finishing spices into the soup. Fall was in the air - its cool temperatures, its cinnamon scent. Your home was illuminated in an unsourced golden glow. As the steam rose from the mugs, Levi tossed you a side glance and his trademark sliver of a smile. His happiness always incited yours, you thanked him with a wide grin. Wordlessly, you communicated the shared thought, What a perfect evening. 

Well, as long as the dinner tastes good. 

You clenched your teeth and cringed as you shuffled to the table. Mitted hands carried the cauldron, your latest concoction. “It’s a new recipe, it might not be good… I was kind of eyeballing -”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Levi reassured you, then caught himself, “You made dinner, I’ll never complain about that.”

“I dunno, I’d try it first before making that promise.”

And no, it’s not perfect, but it’s also your first try. Levi was not much of a liar, so he did not pretend it was the best thing he'd ever eaten, but his reaction was much more muted than yours.

“What the -?! This tastes terrible!! It tastes flat-out wrong!”

Yeah, he had to agree with you, but he did not have to voice it. Instead, his silver eyes drifted to the countertop, and at the sight, he tucked his teeth beneath his lip, “How many cloves of garlic did it ask for?”

“Just two!”

“Did you count cloves,” Levi’s voice dampened a little, a tone he mostly used with his subordinates, “Or heads?”

Fuck. That made sense, too much sense. You tried to convince yourself more than him, “No…”

Levi placed his palms on the table and pushed himself up from his seat. Fists clenched at his sides as he sauntered over to the trash can, finding the pile of food scraps smothered by flaky white paper. With his lips pursed, his trademark sigh was forced out through the nose. Calmly, he placed the lid back on the bin and swung open the doors of your pantry, fridge, and sliding glass door. From the cabinets, he found bread and buns and tucked them under his arm. From the fridge, a seasonal maple sausage and fresh figs. Then, he headed outside.

“What are you doing?”

Levi turned back, the look on his face said What do you think I’m doing? Instead, he opted for, “Plan B.”

When the puzzled expression on your face refused to fade, he tilted his head and offered, “Look, I know it’s not gourmet or anything. This was something I used to make as a kid. Didn’t require much.” He dipped his gaze to the floor and toed into his slide-on shoes, “I think you’ll like it enough.”

Your confusion turned to elation when you realized what he was doing, fixing your mistakes, as you so often did for each other. With a bright grin, you flung yourself up from the table and looped your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, leaning in -

“Ah ah ah,” Levi put his fingertips to your lips, “you reek of garlic.”

“We reek of garlic.”

He flashed you a slight smile before setting off towards his outdoor kitchen. “Grab two sweatshirts. Meet me back there.”

Sat on the stone benches around your fire pit, Levi had skewered two sausages and readied two buns. By the time you arrived, the links were almost cooked through. It was minute, somewhat silly, but you felt an odd admiration as you watched him plate the meal, unafraid of the fresh-off-the-fire temperatures. Moving swiftly and confidently, as though he had done this tricky maneuver a million times before.

“Almost done,” his gaze kept on his lap, his ingredients, as he spoke to you, “these’ll just take another minute.”

From the side of his hip, he flicked his knife from the small leather pouch. Suddenly, his nerves singed, causing a shudder to run up his shoulders - a shudder you attributed to the cool autumn night but was actually summoned by a long distanced instinct. Not in danger, just slicing figs. 

A slice of bread, some sticky fruit, and another slice of bread: a sandwich that was itself sandwiched by two metal clamps. Wordlessly, he held both makeshift desserts over the campfire, elbows rested on perched knees, moving minimally.

You could feel yourself salivating, and who could blame you? In your eyes, a perfect man making a meal for you, allowing you to relax and enjoy the view. The night’s clear sky allowed the stars to illuminate his skin. The light of the campfire both highlighted and shadowed his best features - the blue of his eyes, his sharp and angular cheekbones. Your earlier mishap had completely vanished, for if you had made such a huge mistake, how could you have wound up in such a flawless scene? 

As the minutes went by, and as your stomach rumbles grew increasingly louder, however, your gratitude for his cooking regrettably began to waver. Levi grazed the pies along the tips of the flames. This would take forever, and you were starving. “Here, let me help!”

His lips parted in instinctual dissent, but before he could object, you had already snatched one of the tools from him and stuck it in the heart of the fire. Needless to say, Levi ate your burnt pie. You enjoyed his immaculate one.

After the first few bites, he shot you a glance. Lifting an eyebrow, a silent ask for critique. You swallowed, “It’s really… simple.” For a moment, Levi bit the inside of his cheek until you continued, “And tastes really good.” You nudged his bicep with your elbow, “Why didn’t you make this for me earlier!?”

The truth was, after moving out of the slums, he figured that he never would have to cook these things again. Now, here he was, serving it to his spouse who was already asking for seconds. Funny how something that had symbolized such hardship for him was soldering into a fond memory with you.

That night was one of the first that he could fall asleep in peace. Usually, as he closed his eyes, traumatic moments of his past would snatch him from the brink. This time, though, it wasn't the bad times that visited him, but the better ones from his youth. The fresh scent that filled his room after his mom washed his linens. Sneaking out late with friends, being up to no good. Finally, he fell asleep with the taste of campfire desserts on his tongue, and you in his arms.

Winter nights were unexpectedly bright. The fresh, sparkling slate of snow combined with outdoor lights to replace the early setting sun. It was not quite the same light, but it was as if the earth was making the most of what it had. If the days were to be shorter, the nights would be kind to you. 

Just outside your home, technically a few yards away, a harsh blizzard was making its presence known. Trees bent at its will. Its vicious gusts caused white sprinkles to flee from the top layer of snow. Pounding ice and whistling winds attacked your windows. Outdoors, there was a war, but here - inside and together - you had never felt safer. 

The most you felt was just a slight draft, but you had a million ways to deal with that. You crossed your arms across your chest, blanket bundled in your hands, wrapping yourself tight in your sofa nest. On the braided rug, Levi stretched his legs - clothed in fleece - closer to the fireplace and caressed his warm ceramic mug. Black tea, as always. At this time of year, it was the best season to pair his tea with a dessert. Gingerbread and sugar cookies - your annual tradition. Come early afternoon, you two had spent a long time baking, but spent even more time cleaning up the mess it had made. That you had made. 

The food fight started with one party not knowing that it had started. A jar of all-purpose flour was tucked in the crook of his arm, a measuring cup in hand. He gathered the flour carefully, using the brim to flatten the scoop, but his pour was not nearly as delicate. Levi flung the ingredients into the mixing bowl as if he was in a cooking competition and the last minute was approaching. 

At first, it appeared somewhat magnificent, artful even. There was something satisfying about watching Levi work the kitchen. When he smacked his hands together, clapping them clean, you admired the tiny particles that dissolved in air. Simple ingredients somehow combined to create complexity: a familiar scent and a feeling of comfort. 

That was all just icing on the cake. What you honed in on was the calloused way Levi cupped his arm to roll up his sleeves, the steep flex of his forearm as he stirred the batter, knuckles white around the wooden spoon. Once everything was incorporated, he pressed the dough to the countertop, which he had of course covered with flour beforehand, and began to knead it. Veins rose, tendons stood as he forced the dough into shape. The objective was a perfect sphere, one that would ensure that each cookie had uniform thickness. Nothing raw. Nothing burnt. 

Looking down at his work, his brows lowered, eyes narrowed, more flour. This time, he grabbed a random spoon that happened to be in reach, and used it to add a likewise random amount of flour to the dough. 

A bit of wafted flour had gotten stuck in your throat, causing you to cough a couple times. You tried to clear your throat, take a sip of water, but only after a lengthy coughing fit were you able to breathe without struggle. Bent at the waist, hand clutching the countertop, eyes brimming with tears, it wasn’t pretty. Past the blur, you caught sight of your husband, and were shocked to see his lack of shock. In fact, it appeared he had not even shot you a glance, seeming to care about the baking more than the baker. 

“Ahem!!” 

Still, he showed no compassion, it was as if he did not even hear you. With your hand on your hip, you thought of one surefire way to get his attention. You poured some sprinkles into your palm, pinched them in your fingertips, and showered them on his head. Most fell straight to the floor, some went down his shirt, and one tiny snowflake managed to stick on him like a crown. Annoyed before, but you were laughing now. 

His voice was low and quiet. “You don’t want to start this with me.”

“You started it!”

At last, he afforded you his gaze, though it was more concerning than concerned. Over his shoulder, a side eye colder than the negative temperatures. Also over his shoulder, a fistful of powdered sugar that hit you head-on. Levi choked down his amusement at the ripple effect it painted on your face.

Despite his efforts to stifle, you still picked up on his inner delight. At this point in the relationship, you had too much intel for that. You used your hand to wipe your face clean, but then cleaned your hand by having it slide down his apron. 

Then was an exchange that could not translate to spoken form, a silent conversation that you had engaged in on a few notable occasions. 

Did you really just do that?

Yeah, you tilted your head, and I have no regrets.

Levi knit his brows and flashed a devious smirk. I’ll make you regret it.

Caramel sauce, honey, and syrup - you were one of - now two - people on earth who could rank them in order of stickiness. Mini chocolate chips made good explosions. Whipped cream cans could shoot further than expected. The textures of custard and condensed milk could take a battle to the next level. And no matter how hard you threw a marshmallow -

“Hey!” Levi’s determination dimmed to seriousness. “Knock it off! We need those!”

Again, a conversation that was best had silent. The perfect offense in hand, you offered him a puppy dog look. Levi clenched his teeth, affirming his command, but his palm lowered slightly. You flicked one more marshmallow at him, and this time, he did not retaliate, instead offering a ceasefire with a sequence of plain blinks. 

You tiptoed as you approached him, ensuring there was no surprise attack coming. Finally, the truce was solidified by your touch, not the traditional handshake, but a warm washcloth to his neck, its damp fresh from the faucet. Your contact was deliberately gentle as you wiped him clean.

Back then, from behind your cover, the dining room table, you were unable to see how much damage you had really done. This close, the casualties appeared one after the other. Bangs that were typically combed straight had become glued together with various confections. Beneath them, sprinkles shaped like trees and candy canes stuck to his forehead. Comedically timed in your eyes, though he was not laughing, a puff of whipped cream fell from his chin and onto the towel you were trying to clean him with.

It was then that you broke, laughing and blurting out, “You look ridiculous.”

“Tch…” Levi scowled, “and whose fault is that?”

For this aftermath, there was only one solution: your corner bathtub and his mop bucket. Hours later, you united in your living room, two entities at total peace. Perhaps that was a reason for his tire. Normally, Levi would not feel the effects of being on his hands and knees, scrubbing for hours, but the season’s premature sunset made the early evening feel like midnight. You were cozy with blankets, enveloped in the plot of the latest fiction. It was difficult not to sympathize, to find anything less than perfect in this moment.

Levi propped himself up with a grunt and gazed towards the kitchen. Your sugar cookies had 5 more minutes, but then they’d have to cool. Then, you’d have to frost them. Then, you’d have to get the gingerbread in, wait for that to cool, and -” 

Levi could feel himself nodding off, eyelids even heavier than usual. Energy dwindling, he strained to meet your eye contact. His tired, crackled whisper spoke to you, “You’ll let me know when they’re done, right?”

Definitely not. “Yeah!” With how hard it was for Levi to find sleep, there was no way you were going to wake him up just to take cookies out of the oven. “Just rest for now, I’ll let you know when they’re done.”

But he was already out by then, and the direction of the night was yours. You were deep into the novel, just a hundred pages left. It was the tangent of the plot’s climax and the winding down of the story, the gravitational pull to finish it tonight. A howl of wind, a tick of the timer, and the start of new chapters, they nudged you back to reality just enough. You were always relieved and content to find Levi sound asleep on the carpet. As the night went on, you had gradually set pillows and blankets at his side until he was surrounded. When he eventually stood, there would be a Levi-shaped outline on the rug, you bit your lip and chuckled to yourself.

There would also be an imprint of you on the couch once you were done with your book. There was no reason to get up, and you could not have imagined a better scene. Outside, snowflakes continued to pile on one another, finally able to settle at the blizzard's mercy. Levi’s inhales and exhales made a subtle harmony to the sporadic fireplace crackle. The smell of cinnamon was gradually fading, melting into a scent that was familiar. Too familiar?

You threw your book down and ran to the kitchen. The sweet aura was gone, replaced by grey fog and smoky fumes. Peering into the oven, you should have been grateful that there were no flames, but you were too overwhelmed by the dreadful sight of burnt discs. The white delicacies you molded should have looked like snowmen. Instead, they looked like the coals in your fireplace, the fireplace he was sleeping next to now.

You’d just have to make more tomorrow.

// masterlist //