#mine: zhenya

[jamieees]

ISTG This must've happened atleast once in the future 🤣🤣

[malk1ns]

january 18 @ capitals, 4-1 loss

the streets let me know that geno and ovi appear to be on-again. they were chit-chatting between the whistles and getting quiiiiiite cozy. love that for them.

When Zhenya gets off the ice after the Sabres game, his phone already has two missed calls and five texts.

He sighs explosively, clearing the notifications and throwing his phone back onto the shelf in his stall before he starts stripping his gear off.

“What’s up?” OC asks, peering up at Zhenya from where he’s doubled over picking at his skate laces.

“Ovechkin,” Zhenya mutters darkly, glaring at his phone as he unbuckles his shoulder pads. It vibrates at him. Fuck.

Sid leans around from the other side of OC, eyes bright. “What’s Alex want?” There’s a burble of laughter under his voice, and after a game like that Zhenya can’t blame him. It’s not Sid’s fault that all the mirth in Zhenya’s soul got sucked out the minute he saw Алекса́ндр Миха́йлович Ове́чкин on his phone.

“Don’t know,” Zhenya huffs, sitting down heavily on the bench to get started on his skates. His legs feel heavy, and he’s already dreading the plane ride. “Probably wants dinner tomorrow, like, after game. Hope he picks somewhere good this time, last place was suck.”

That’s not fair. Sanya has never actually brought Zhenya to a bad restaurant in DC. But Zhenya’s not exactly inclined to feel charitable right now, not when Sanya is on an epic goalscoring tear and Zhenya…isn’t.

“Standing me up, G?” Kris calls from across the room, but he’s not being serious; they did their dinner in November. “Didn’t know Ovi was such a hot date.”

Zhenya makes loud fake gagging sounds until the guys chuckle and drop it.

Sid’s still watching him, though. Zhenya pretends he doesn’t notice.

—

By the time the plane touches down in DC, Zhenya’s stiff and sore, and he has to hobble down the steps to the shuttle. Sid is right behind him the whole way, and Zhenya can practically feel him about to say something, but every time he keeps his mouth shut.

This can’t go on much longer. They’re being too awkward, and the team is going to start noticing sooner rather than later. Kris for sure has, but he’s giving them space to sort themselves out; that won’t last forever, though.

Zhenya scowls at his phone for the shuttle trip through DC, stabbing too hard at his shattered touchscreen as he sends a request for a pre-game rubdown before the game tomorrow. He hisses when his finger slides over a break in the glass.

He needs to get a new phone. He needs to get back to Anna about where they’re taking Nikita on vacation together this summer. He needs to tell his agent which sponsorships he’s okaying for the off-season.

He needs to talk to Sid.

Instead, he opens up his WhatsApp conversation with Sanya.

It’s a bunch of expletives about the goalie goal, which are at least enough to make Zhenya smile as he scrolls. The last message, though, wipes the grin from his face.

we need to talk about the voicemail you left me next week. you’re coming to mine after the game tomorrow. don’t try to run to the hotel, i’ll find you

Zhenya sends a thumbs up and locks his phone, sinking into his chair and staring outside for the rest of the bus ride. When they get to the hotel, he grabs his key and hustles upstairs before Sid can waylay him.

It’s a good thing he’s bone-tired after a game and travel. He’s not sure he’d fall asleep otherwise.

—

Zhenya feels surprisingly sanguine as they troop off the ice. They lost, yes, but they didn’t completely fall apart; the score doesn’t reflect how they played. It’s something to build on, stuff to review and work on as they move forward.

Sully agrees, and he keeps his postgame chat short. Everyone’s exhausted after a back-to-back with travel, and the room is pretty subdued. They don’t fly out until mid-morning tomorrow, but it’s the brutal slog all the way to Los Angeles, and everyone is ready to get back to the hotel and sack out for as long as they can.

Except Zhenya.

Sanya doesn’t even give him a chance to escape; he’s waiting outside the visitor’s locker room when Zhenya exits, tapping at his phone and looking bored.

«I’m here as ordered,» Zhenya says, stopping in front of Sanya and kicking at his shin. Sanya immediately pockets his phone and beams up at him, grabbing his arm and towing him down the hallway as he chatters about the game.

Zhenya looks back and makes eye contact with Sid, who’s watching the two of them leave with a furrowed brow. Zhenya shrugs, then turns back forward so he doesn’t stumble over Sanya’s feet.

They get the small talk out of the way in the car. Sanya asks after Zhenya’s parents, who are minding his house back in Pittsburgh while they’re on this ultra-long road trip. Zhenya makes appropriately interested noises as Sanya talks about Nastya’s latest charity initiative back in Moscow.

«I had the team chef send me back with a double portion earlier today, I hope you don’t mind just reheating something,» Sanya says as they make their way into his house. «And don’t worry about the dogs, Carly picked them up earlier today.»

«Thanks,» Zhenya says, oddly touched. When he and Sanya are fighting, it’s easy to dwell on the worst parts of him—his temper, his ego, his questionable politics, the way he bulldozes through life assuming everyone will give him what he wants. When they’re friends, though, Zhenya’s reminded of the little ways that he’s careful with his friends, the details he remembers and the thought he puts into making sure the people in his life are alright.

Which, Zhenya supposes, is the reason he’s here.

He didn’t remember leaving Sanya a voicemail when he woke up hungover and miserable last week. It wasn’t until Sanya started texting him incessantly that the dreadful memory returned—too many shots after a night out with the team, no game the next day because of his wrist, and watching Sid do his painful, earnest best to act normal after what happened the weekend prior had sent him straight to the good liquor when he got home. And that, apparently, had led him to dialing Sanya and saying…well, Zhenya’s still not entirely sure what he said exactly, but it was enough that Sanya got the gist of what happened.

Zhenya shakes his head at a proffered beer and digs into the pasta Sanya sets in front of him. They’re quiet for a while as they shovel down their meals, but Zhenya knows what’s coming, and the admittedly delicious sauce tastes like ash in his mouth.

After they’re done, Sanya produces two Gatorades and directs them to the living room, settling Zhenya on the couch before handing him the blue one.

Zhenya takes a long drink and says nothing. He’s here under duress; Sanya can start.

«So,» Sanya says, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching his legs out, digging his toes into Zhenya’s thigh. Zhenya doesn’t even bother smacking him away. «You and Crosby finally did the deed and now you’re freaking out.»

Zhenya’s face immediately goes hot, and he sets the Gatorade bottle on the side table with a shaky hand. «No delicate lead-in?» he snarks, clasping his hands in his lap. 

Sanya tsks at him. «Stop trying to avoid the subject with jokes,» he scolds, poking Zhenya with his big toe to punctuate his point. «You’re very clever, yes, we all know Zhenya and his wit that he uses to deflect when he’s uncomfortable. You called me last week. I won’t make you listen to the voicemail because I’m nice, but I was really worried. You’re lucky I didn’t call your mother. What happened?»

Zhenya sighs, but the ball of stress in his chest unspools. Sanya isn’t angry at him, he’s concerned. He’s not going to report Zhenya to the SVR and get him banned from his motherland. He’s offering to listen.

For all they’ve been through, Sanya’s kept Zhenya’s secrets since they were teenagers, at least the ones that actually counted. Even when they hate each other, they’re family.

«I don’t even know what happened,» Zhenya starts slowly, rolling his shoulders back and sinking into the couch with a groan, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. It’s a shockingly comfortable piece of furniture; he could probably sleep here, even with his knees and his back. «Mama made vareniki, like, a thousand kilos of it, and Sid wanted to go over some power play tape anyway, so I brought some over so we could eat and talk…» Zhenya sighs. «It’s like trying to remember a dream. We were down in the basement watching, and it’s like…suddenly we were sitting really close. And I looked over, he was looking at me, and then…» Zhenya trails off, shivering a little as he remembers the way they leaned together as if magnetized. 

The whole evening really did feel like something out of a dream. It wasn’t until the next morning, when Zhenya woke up in Sid’s tangled sheets with come dried low on his belly and Sid’s warm breath against his neck.

He’d jumped out of the bed, shoved on his clothes, and tore out of there like he was being chased. They’ve barely spoken since.

«Who’s being weirder about it, you or him?» Sanya interrupts his reverie. «I’m assuming he’s trying to be normal and thus making it forced, and you’re avoiding every attempt.»

Zhenya can never say that Sanya Ovechkin doesn’t know him down to his bones. «That’s about right,» he admits, picking at a cuticle. «I know I can’t let it go on for much longer, the team will notice.»

«Fuck the team, Zheka,» Sanya says, and Zhenya rolls his eyes. «No, I’m serious. The two of you aren’t going to let this impact the team, Jesus, you’d never. But if you continue to be stupid you will let it fuck up the two of you.»

«I don’t know what to say,» Zhenya whispers. «It’s…you know how things have been, with Anya. We’re fine now, as friends, but…what if I’m not over her? What if I am, but Sid thinks it was a huge mistake? God, I don’t think I could bear him letting me down gently.» Zhenya’s pride can only take so much bruising, after all.

«Zhenyechka,» Sanya says gently, and suddenly he’s tucked against Zhenya’s side, wrapping his arm around Zhenya’s shoulders and drawing him close. «That man is head over heels for you. He has been for years. And you’ve felt the same, by the way—you both distracted yourself with pretty little things, but it’s been there the whole time. You really think after something like what happened, he’d treat you badly and let you down?»

Zhenya lets himself relax into Sanya’s strong grip.

Sanya’s right, is the thing. The way Sid had looked at him…Zhenya knows that look. He’s seen it on Oksana, on Anna. He sees it when his parents look at each other.

He’s seen it on Sid’s face for fifteen years. 

«What if I fuck up, then?» he says, resting his head on Sanya’s shoulder. «What if I’m the one that ruins us?»

«Well then, don’t,» Sanya says, as if it’s that simple.

Zhenya supposes that it probably is.

—

Sanya keeps Zhenya for a few more hours, coaxing him into trying some dreadful local beer he’s obsessed with and dragging Zhenya from room to room to show off his tacky new decorations that Zhenya immediately loves. Eventually, though, he drops Zhenya back at the hotel, beeping his horn twice as he tears off down the street.

Zhenya watches his tail lights fade, then heads inside.

His head is buzzing as the elevator slowly creaks up to the team’s floor, but not from the single beer he’d choked down. For the first time all evening, he looks at his phone.

There’s the usual shit that he swipes away, but there’s one text from Sid waiting for him.

let me know when you’re back safe

Before Zhenya can overthink it, he turns right out of the elevator instead of left, where his own room is.

He counts the doors until he gets to the room he knows Sid will be staying in. Pressing his ear against the door, he can faintly hear the television.

Taking a deep breath, Zhenya knocks.

[moonisthedoor]

This is a webweave for a Gerry Keay/Michael Shelley fanfic based on The Magnus Archives

I want to be home to you: The Whispering and the Reckoning web weave

for @blasphemous-lies-and-deceit <3

Elden Ring // Elden Ring // tumblr user @/s0larize (x) // In Bed, The Kiss by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec // tumblr user @/perfectlyripeclementine // Savior by Lee Hi (music video) // Savior by Lee Hi // tumblr user @/b0nkcreat // Trista Mateer // Savior by Lee Hi (music video) // The Internet Speaks Back to the Author by Phil Kaye // The Kiss by Edvard Munch // Zhenya Katava & Neus Bermejo for V Magazine, photography by Gus & Lo // Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Image description in ALT text and under the cut.

Image ID 1: Screenshot of a notification from Elden Ring on dark grey background. White text: You have not sinned. Text in response button: OK. The button is highlighted.

Image ID 2: Screenshot of a notification from Elden Ring on dark grey background. White text: You don't need absolution. Text in response button: OK. The button is highlighted.

Image ID 3: A photo of a person holding a bottle of purple nail polish in their hands, painting someone's nails. Their shirt is black with a red graphic print on it that includes a word "love". Their own nails are the same shade of metallic purple as the polish they're holding. You can't see their face as it's cut off.

Image ID 4: A painting of two people laying in bed. They're embracing each other and kissing. The person on the left has red hair slightly past their shoulders. The person on the right has short red hair. They're covered up to their chest by the blanket. The sheets and the blanket are white.

Image ID 5: Sccreenshot of a tumblr post from a user @perfectlyripeclementine. Black text on white background: calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion. End of text.

Image ID 6: A screenshot from a music video. A Korean man with black hair and black eyes is sitting on a low couch. He's wearing a white shirt with a red outline on the collar and black pants. His legs are slightly spread. A Korean woman with black hair and black eyes is laying on her side with her head in his lap. She's on the right side of the man. She's wearing a long white dress and her hands are clasped in her own lap. In the background you can see a church altar.

Image ID 7: Screenshot of lyrics. Black text on white background: Is there such a thing as love without despair? // Where will you be taking me? Yeah, yeah // Will you be able to stay by my side // As long as I wish you to? Hm. End of text.

Image ID 8: A screenshot of a Tumblr ask. Anonymous said: "do you think it'll all be okay?" User b0nkcreat, who has a blue and a green checkmark near their username, responds: "yeah. even if it won't i've got people to love in the meantime".

Image ID 9: Screenshot of black text on white background: In this space right here that we have made for each other, [text highlighted in light blue] you can say anything and I will not abandon you [highlighting ends]. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch.

Image ID 10: Screenshot from a music video. A Korean woman with dark hair and dark eyes is in the center of the shot, facing the camera. She's hugging a dark-haired man with her right hand, looking to her right side. The man is wearing a dark shirt with white vertical stripes in the center of the back. He's hiding his face in the woman's shoulder. In the background you can see the inside of a church, an altar and reliefs of saints on the walls.

Image ID 11: Screenshot of black text on white background: tell me what you want // [text italicized] every door you enter // I will let you in [italicized text ends]

Image ID 12: A painting of two people kissing. The person on the left is wearing a dark red suit, they have black hair. They're leaning against a green nightstand. A person on the right is wearing long black dress with red outlining the sleeves and the collar. They're hugging the other person by their neck. As the two are kissing, their faces are featurless, melting into each other.

Image ID 13: A photo of two people's hands. They're holding each other by the pinkies. The person on the left has light skin and is wearing a dark blue sleeveless dress. The person on the right is wearing a dark blue dress with buttoned cuffs on the sleeves. Nothing beyond the arms and a piece of their skirts can be seen. The arms are entangled with a red string from the middle of the forearm to the tips of the fingers of both hands. The photo is framed with a digital black frame.

Image ID 14: Screenshot of black text on white background: "We have to go home." // "I'm already home. I'm with you."

[mvltimvse]

( of course its for volgin its the sillays >:3 )

the porcelain major awakens to the dim rolling of thunder. it takes far too much effort to will his tired eyes to open, remaining half-lidded and shrouded in the thick veil of his eyelashes. his chest - peppered with the first blossoms of bruises and pressed flush against the colonel's own - shudders with his waking breaths, muscles contracting and releasing, rippling with every subtle movement of his body. he rolls his shoulders back with a sleepy hum, the ache of earlier activities still binding his limbs to lethargy.

awakening beside his beloved, rested and worn in the most delicious manner. a day like every other - almost. another clap of thunder resonates lowly overhead.

raikov lets his body melt back into the sheets, and nuzzles his rosy face between the pillow and the sculpted chest of his lover. a silk-soft hand slides over the thick, scarred arms wrapped lovingly tight around his waist, thumb tracing little circles on volgin's skin. he knows of his colonel's aversion to storms. oh, he knows, and it pulls enough on his fluttering heartstrings to make him speak up, his voice soft and doused in sleepiness.

" kuwabara, " he near sings the phrase through pink lips, eyes peacefully closed like those of a lain-back doll. his voice is softer than falling snow, breathy and doused in sleepiness. every syllable sounded out at an unhurried pace. " kuwabara. " a kiss upon warm skin. " that's what you always say, isn't it, zhenya ? "

@sadistpet

The thunder rolls again, a low rumble that vibrates through the walls and settles in his chest, an echo of some primordial dread he will never fully shake. Even now, pressed against the warmth of his beloved, Volgin feels the pulse of the storm as if it were his own heartbeat, erratic and relentless. His broad chest rises and falls beneath the weight of Raikov's sleepy form, the younger man's soft breaths tickling the lines of old scars. It grounds him, this intimacy, this tether to something so delicate it feels alien in his calloused grasp.

He tightens his hold, his scarred fingers splayed possessively over the small of Raikov’s back, drawing him closer. It’s instinctual, a silent answer to the storm's challenge, as if to say, This is mine. You will not take it. The ache in his muscles is a familiar one, the price of indulgence, but he welcomes it with a faint smirk, hidden in the shadows of his own thoughts. Let the storm rage, he thinks. What power does it have here?

But then Raikov stirs, his sleepy voice slipping through the haze of Volgin’s mind like sunlight cutting through thick smoke. “Kuwabara.” A single word, uttered with a tenderness that twists something deep inside him, something he doesn’t know how to name. Volgin’s lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, at the sing-song cadence. It’s a childish thing, a superstition meant to ward off lightning’s wrath, and yet coming from Raikov’s lips, it becomes something else entirely. A charm. A spell. A promise.

His own voice emerges rough, weathered from years of shouting orders and growling threats, but softened now by the moment they share. "It is," he rumbles, his accent thick, each word wrapped in the stormcloud of his baritone. His hand moves, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of Raikov's spine with a tenderness most would think him incapable of. "You always remember." He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to the crown of golden hair, his breath mingling with the scent of his major, the storm forgotten for the briefest of moments. "Even when I don’t."

[silly-stage-au]

Can't believe I'm only asking this Now

Are the "themes" of each contestant something they all thought up themselves or were they given to them and they just ran with it

Mod Penguin: for mine, nina was given her aesthetic without any say. nastya had very little say, but she did have some (like, that she wanted to wear shorts, for example. little things like that). ája refused the aesthetic she was given in round 1, but in rounds 2 and 3 she hasn't had the energy to refuse it anymore.

Mod Mayya: Betty chose her aestetic with little input, same with Marianne and Westley. Kyro's was 50/50 and he had to fight for that 50/50. Lisa's and Elise's was imposed but they didnt mind.

Mod Tarot: dasha's input started and ended with the guitar and the rest of the twins' aesthetic was built around that. but i imagine they went through a couple different fases before this season started.

roma was too scared of pushing back to reject anything so he just goes along with everything. but he really doesn't mind the emo/goth aesthetic they ended up with.

zhenya's was fully imposed on her but accidentally exactly what she would've picked herself so she's just like "woah the aliens are so cool! they knew exactly what i liked ! yippee! >:..D"

[smollandtoll]

Title: The Precipice of Tomorrow Author: nemorps Artist: kingcameacallin Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin, Past Evgeni Malkin/OMC, past Sidney Crosby/Jordan Staal, past Sidney Crosby/Conor Sheary, implied Sidney Crosby/Others Characters: Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, Sergei Gonchar, Pittsburgh Penguins Ensemble Tags: non-hockey!au, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn, Exhibitionism, Sex Toys, Bondage, Blindfolds, Fucking Maching, slight Identity Porn Archive warnings: no archive warnings apply Summary: Before discovering Mr.87's channel, Zhenya hadn't known edging, ruined orgasms, cock rings that keep you hard and wanting even after you’d come once, men jerking spasmodically while still being touched after coming, any of it was a thing for him. A/N: So… I finally got around to writing that story based on Smollandtoll's BEAUTIFUL, sexy, Edging!AU. (Feel free to go read that first over here). I've changed up a few things, and added a couple other plotlines to the mix :3c so hopefully mine still feels fresh and new 8D Thank you SO, so much to Smollandtoll for giving blanket permission to write stories based on their Headcanons <3 I hope they (and you all) enjoy what I've done with the story ^.^

link to fic: The Precipice of Tomorrow link to playlist: The Precipice of Tomorrow

[illastrologist]

Zhenya (mine) and Adzana (KravingKhaos on Twitter)!

[nastya-sokolova-2002]

I'm sorry that there is no art in my blog today, because today is the worst day in the world, because I'm really angry right now. I am angry that I am already tired of living with my grandmother, who has been infuriating me for the eighth month already, because I have been living with her since November last year. You will probably ask why and I will answer. The fact is that when I tell my grandmother that I want to go to work, she keeps telling me that she doesn't want to hear about it. I think about her every day to myself so that she finally dies and that she is to blame for my life, because she spoils my life more than the rest of my parents. I already wrote to my mom in Whatsapp to take me away from here, because I can't live with her anymore and I can't wait for repairs in a new house anymore and that because of her I want to commit suicide, because she forbids me to go to work. Mom told me that she and Uncle Zhenya do not know when the repair will end, but they are trying to hurry, but maybe they will finish before mid-July, and she told me not to worry and not kill myself because there will be a job for me. While I will not worry and endure the grandmother, I will probably really go crazy with anger, although this is not accurate, because I can calm down for a while if I start doing something on my phone and tablet: drawing, playing games (which I have on my tablet), sitting in social networks, watching Youtube and movies and animated series on the Internet, and write fanfictions. But the only thing that can really completely calm me down and remove anger is only moving to a new house and the first working day. Because of my anger, when I get angry at my grandmother, I tell her several times that after moving to my mother, I will work from morning to evening seven days a week. But I only said that just to show her that I'm tired of her and that I don't want to see or hear her anymore. But she still doesn't understand. I have a feeling that I live in a foster family, and not in my native one. Native parents would not do this to their own child. It seems to me that I am the only person who hates his parents and wants to leave them as soon as possible so as not only not to see or hear them, but also to forget that they exist in life. I'm sorry for everything I said, but I'm seriously not in the mood. And I seriously want to start working as soon as possible to get a lot of salary, buy myself an apartment and leave all the ancestors without telling them anything. I generally think that no one from my family is needed, because of them my half of my life is spoiled by them, but most of all from my grandmother, because she is the only one who does not understand that I need freedom. I don't say anything about my grandfather at all because he thinks only about himself and watches TV all day and goes to the kitchen. I feel like Brain, because his life, like mine, is full of suffering. Sometimes I wonder why I was raised by this family and not another. Although I've been an adult for three years and already have to live alone without them. So again, I'm sorry for everything I said, but I'm not kidding about this.

[honortodth]

Feanor rakes his hands down Zhenya's back, stops to hold tight onto her waist as he thrusts into her heat. It doesn't feel like enough, his hands on her skin. There's an ache in them to do so much more, as if their skin could meld together into one. And as they move against one another, all sweat and heated breaths and grasping hands, he swears they could be. He hisses as her nails dig into him, welcomes it as the slight pain mingles exquisitely with the pleasure that builds in his lower abdomen.

His mouth is exploring her neck, biting here and there as she leads his hand to where she's most desperate to be touched. Groans as she calls his name --- it's dizzying, the sound of it uttered in a haze of pleasure. He needs to hear that every night, he thinks. A prayer in the dark. ❝ Just like this, hm? ❞ he presses lightly, fingers rubbing her clit in a circular motion.

There's few people that Feanor has slept with, even fewer still those he's loved. Like a warm, gentle breeze, love has come and gone in his life. Each time is different, each person is different. With Zhenya, it somehow all feels new, yet carries with it a reassurance that yes, their souls have known each other before. Their souls have loved each other before, in days as ancient as the wilds of the land.

His other hand finds purchase at the back of her neck, gaze matching hers with equal intensity, ❝ I'm never leaving again, not without you. I am yours, and you are mine. Forever. ❞ A promise, one he intends to keep. Your heart is safe in my hands.

The pace of his thrusts quicken, become erratic, and he can feel the warmth in the pit of his stomach begin to spread. He feels her tighten around his cock and it drives him further to the edge. His fingers move faster, more desperately at her clit so that she may join him. ❝ Ahhh, fuck --- I love you. I - ❞ he moans hot and heavy, ❝ I love you so much, Zhenya. ❞ It's all too much --- the warmth and wet of her cunt, the sounds that fall from her lips, the way she squeezes down on him. He's desperate to have her coming on his cock, needs her to drag him into his own release along with her.

as she sinks onto his length, zhenya is dizzied by the press of him inside her, the way every inch of him fills her so perfectly. as though made for her. she knows feanor has loved others and others have loved him before, but in this moment, she cannot imagine him looking at another the way he looks up at her. as though she has the power to raise the sun and moon. as though he is seeing both for the very first time. the light in feanor's eyes feels undiscovered, as though she'd stumbled on a cave deep within the heart of the world. and what a privilege it is to see him this way, to hold the sight of him, so vulnerable, like a secret beneath the bone of her breast. in exchange, her heart –– all his to keep.

❝ ––so romantic, ❞ she manages to laugh through a strangled noise of pleasure. but zhenya's eyes haven't left his and for all her humor, she knows he means each word. her mouth drifts against his, teeth tugging at his lower lip. every thrust up into her tight heat has zhenya's nails digging deeper into feanor's shoulders, body growing hot with sweat and simmering desire so close to boiling over.

she's slept with many a person, and fucked her fair share more: tieflings, and humans, and satyrs –– even a dragonborn, once –– but feanor is like no other. zhenya freely lets his name tumble from her lips, a sharp cry she's sure can be heard through the walls. and hells. she'd be glad if it did. ❝ feanor, ❞ she gasps, eyes closed as she brings his hand to her clit. shows him just how she likes to be teased. hard, then soft. insistently. ❝ ...used to touch myself like this–– thinking of you. dreaming of kissing you. ❞ and waking wishing she could still taste him on her tongue. hungry, always, for him.

❝ ah, gods–– don't.. don't leave again. stay with me. ❞ against his cheek, the words are both a plea and a demand. ❝ fuck me every morning and every night... everywhere and anywhere. ❞ zhenya's walls tighten impossibly, clenching helplessly at the thought of him inside her like this forever. her fingers wrap around his chin, holding his gaze to hers. ❝ say it... say you're mine. be with me forever. ❞

[jamieees]

✧⁠*.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡🐇🐊✧⁠*.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[incandescentlysilver]

2018 Winter Olympics: Evgenia Medvedeva + Anna Karenina

[twomorestars]

[masochismustango]

I’m genuinely irritated that there’s no discussion about a statement of MINE in the reblogs.

Okay, you’ve answered to Zhenya’s addiction to this one - which is good and both of us are sharing our thoughts -, but there’s nothing about my kind of “problem”.

Wanna be a witch-huntress for Halloween so bad, but

1. I have no costume;

2. I can’t celebrate Halloween for some reasons;

3. It’s fucking COLD AND SNOWY where I live.

And I’m also not able to draw anything related to it 🥴👍🏻

[scarletwinstons]

ZHENYA KATAVA via instagram

[phanthereal]

#PACK FIRE -  ZHENYA KATAVA (Avatar/Firma personalizadas)

[angryjojofrog]

every time your girlboss snakolyte oc i can only imagine that one image of a hexagon cat so you can have this rotate in your skull now

(i didn't know if posting this on my blog and @ ing you would be polite or not so now its in your ask box)

A hexagonal what?- OMG!!!! THIS FAT ASS CAT IS LITERALLY HIM!!! /pos

This definetely getting engraved in my skull for a while, thanks <3