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iniquitousyearning · 2 years ago

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Mattheo Riddle. | We Are Done

Info: Mattheo calls things off during a nasty fight where you were only expressing your concern for his safety, putting an end to your months-long complicated fling. When he inevitably gets hurt and finds himself in the hospital wing as a result of his recklessness, you pay him a little visit, eager to get your revenge.

Word count: 5k

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Toxic Behaviours, Sadism, Masochism, Intense Bloodplay, Restraint, Dom!Reader, Sub!Mattheo, Begging, PIV, Sexual Punishment, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation.

A/N: went all the way to the depths of hell for this one☠️

The journey from the bustling opulence of the Great Hall to the clinical confines of the hospital wing unfolded like a protracted soul-search, nearly forty minutes of introspection that could have singlehandedly redefined the word regret.

A seething turmoil churned within, its intensity drawn solely from the arid kindling of memories involving your ex fling, Mattheo Riddle. Despite the passing week of newfound solitude, the inner maelstrom showed no fucking signs of abating.

The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away, a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..." he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

"May your recovery be swift, Riddle," you uttered with a tone that held a hint of farewell. "Until next time."

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ninibeingdelulu · 1 year ago

Text

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato #ken sato x you #ken sato x y/n #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato headcanons #kenji sato fluff #ken sato fluff #ultraman #Ultraman rising

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hazbinshusk · 8 months ago

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huskerdust x gn!reader. after a particularly rough day recruiting for the hotel, you limp back to your room to find your two favourite boys waiting for you. anon request. 1.7k

featuring: some blood, physical hurt/comfort, cuddles. really, it's just pure fluff.

Hell can seriously suck a dick sometimes.

You shove the door to the Hotel open with tired arms, for once actually finding yourself wishing that the wall had once again been blown up, if it meant less effort getting home. Charlie had had you pounding pavement all day, trying and failing to enlist new guests to the hotel. Even after the failed extermination, most of the sinners in Pride were less than welcoming to the idea of improving themselves. You spent half the day being told to fuck off and having doors slammed in your face, and the other half actively avoiding being the victim of some asshole’s wrath or lust.

You wipe sweat and ash from your brow with the brow with a sleeve, pausing by the bar to take the weight of your knee. You’d managed to trip while trying to escape a sudden firefight in the Doomsday District, and every step back to the hotel had sent pain shooting up your leg. Your pants were torn and blood has dried in itchy streaks down your calf.

The bartender is nowhere in sight, and you fish your phone out of your pocket to text Angel, sighing when you notice the screen now has a crack spiderwebbing up from the corner of it. Still, a small smile twitches at your lips briefly when you notice he texted you an hour earlier. It’s short and sweet, and your smile widens tiredly.

It was a habit the two of you had picked up since you’d fallen into this relationship with him and Husk; when two of you had turned in for the night, one of you would text to let their other partner know which room they had ended up in. Usually, it was you texting Angel when a shoot ran long, but it had been a rare day off for the porn star and apparently the lack of clientele had meant Husk had been able to clock off early, too.

The lack of a cat emoji said they were spending quality time with Fat Nuggets in Angel’s room, and you thanked Lucifer silently that he’d installed an elevator during the remodel.

You sigh at the idea of having to keep moving rather than just collapsing onto the nearest horizontal surface, limping around the bar to wrap a handful of ice in a towel before making your way to the elevator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, gorgeous, ‘bout time you got—” Angel sits up from where he was lounging across his bed, concern creasing his brow as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. The sudden movement unsettles the two curled up on top of him – while Fat Nuggets snuffles in a mix of both protest and greeting as he waddles across the comforter, Husk looks up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’. He had been stretched out alongside Angel, his arms wrapped around the spider’s midsection and his chin resting against his chest. Angel’s hand still lingers where it had been stroking through the fur between the bartender’s ears, and you feel a small pang of regret for interrupting the tableau. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

“Hell happened,” you reply dryly, wincing as you put a little too much pressure on your knee. Husk blinks sleep out of his eyes and his expression immediately becomes marred with worry. He pushes himself up of Angel just as you move to collapse onto the stool in front of Angel’s vanity, ignoring the ache that protests in the small of his back as he comes to your side. You grimace as you stretch out your leg in front of you, and Angel rolls over to fish the first aid kit out from under his bed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Husk points out gruffly, kneeling beside you. He carefully hooks a claw in the tear in your pants and tears it wider, his brow furrowing further as he reveals the dried blood staining your calf.

“Am I?” you say, sarcasm weak. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Husk fixes you with a dry, exasperated look from under his feather brows as Angel joins the two of you. “Who did it?”

“No one.” You hiss as Angel begins to clean you up, the saline stinging at the abrasion on your knee.

A low growl rumbles warningly through Husk. “Doll…”

You reach out, cupping his face in your hand. You stroke your thumb through the fur of his cheek soothingly. His frown doesn’t ease, but his eyes close for a moment at the touch. “I’m serious. I fell, that’s all.”

“Jesus, toots.” Angel says through an exhale, carefully scrubbing away the blood streaked over your calf. His other hands rummage through the kit for disinfectant and a bandage. “Was it down a flight of stairs by any chance?”

You shake your head, smirking lightly. “Doomsday District; the ground there is like, ninety percent broken glass. Pretty sure I got it all out.”

“The Princess shouldn’t be sendin’ you out there alone,” Husk grumbles, using a piece of saline-soaked gauze to wipe away the remaining ash on your face. You wrinkle your nose as the material tickles at your nose. “It ain’t your job to—”

“Husk, I’m fine.” you assure him. You lean forward to press a kiss to his nose, and Husk��s shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I’m home.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Better?”

You smile, running your fingers rhythmically through Angel’s hair. “Much.”

The three of you are curled up on Angel’s bed, ice melting against your knee and all three of you cradled amongst his many, many pillows and blankets. Husk is propped up against the pillows by the headboard, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You’re tucked up against him, your shoulder against his chest, and your face tilted up to tuck up against his jaw. His purring vibrates through his back, but some of his earlier frustration still lingers in the twitching of his tail. His lips brush against your forehead gently.

Angel is curled up against your side, his head on your chest and two arms wrapped around you. Another reaches up to stroke through the fur of Husk’s side, the fourth resting on the back of the little hell-piglet curled in a ball on Husk’s thigh beside your hip. His legs are bent to tuck up under yours, hooking your knees over his thighs to keep your injury elevated. Every part of you seems to be pressed against soft, soft fur, and you arch your neck further to press your lips to the underside of Husk’s jaw. His purring grows louder.

“Plus side?” Angel comments, looking up at the two of you without raising his cheek from your chest. “Charlie is gonna feel so bad ‘bout sendin’ ya out there—”

“She fuckin’ should,” Husk interjects in a grumble. You sooth him by reaching down to card fingers through his fur, and when your fingers find Angel’s hand, the spider entangles them with his and squeezes. He might be talking more lightly about your current state than Husk, but you knew he was worried, too. You squeeze it back.

“—that there is no way ya gonna be on recruitment duty for, like, a month.” Angel continues. “Ya can jus’ live the high life here. Ya milk that knee jus’ right an’ she probably won’t even make ya go to group. Lucky bitch.”

You hum a laugh, shivering at the way Husk’s claws skim pleasantly against the bare skin of your arm. “And does this ‘high life’ by any chance involve some serious naked time?”

Angel giggles, reaching releasing your waist to reach down and run teasing fingers over the front of Husk’s pants. “Depends. Think the old man here can keep up?”

Husk swats his hand away, and you catch the amused smile that touches his lips for a moment before he remembers to scowl. “Never heard you complain.”

“Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up,” Angel suggests tauntingly, and you choke on a laugh when Husk reaches over you and shoves him off the bed. “Hey! Ow!”

Husk grins, winking at you as Angel stands, all four hands on his hips and a pout on his face. Careful not to jostle you, Husk leans over and grabs a hold of the front of the spider’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Angel wraps two arms around his neck, the other two smoothing over the bartender’s chest. He finds a nipple and pinches, hard, and Husk breaks away with a surprised growl.

“Fuck!”

“Hey!” you object as the movement jostles you further. You rescue Nuggets from the fray, setting him down on the end of the bed. “Watch the invalid, would you? Some of us are injured here!”

Husk immediately stops, his expression apologetic. He catches your cheek, dusting kisses over your face before he presses his lips to yours. You hum happily, feel Angel climb into the bed beside you. He curls up behind you, pressing himself up against your back. Husk kisses you for a few moments more before he pulls away, touching his lips to the skin between your brows. “Sorry, doll.”

“He’s a goddamn brute,” Angel says, tucking his head over your shoulder. “You should totally kick his ass.”

You giggle, and Husk silences him by kissing him again. When they break apart, Husk pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. His wing curves to cover the three of you, and you bury your face contentedly in the soft fur of his chest.

#huskerdust #huskerdust x reader #my fic #huskerdust fic #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #qpr angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel angel dust #husk hazbin hotel #husk #angel dust #hazbin husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust

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quinn-of-aebradore · 5 months ago

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CR Non-Endgame Ships Bracket Take 2

Hello my friends! Some of you may recall that just about 2 years ago now, I ran a series of polls for ships from Campaign 1, Campaign 2, and EXU Calamity that were not together at the end of their respective series. I excluded any Campaign 3 and modern era EXU ships, since at the time, those storylines were still open; Imodna weren't even together at that point. However, now that C3 has reached it's conclusion, I thought it was a good time to revisit the concept. I also didn't feature M/F pairings last time around and now is a good time to make that right too.

So! Let's get into the rules and paraments parameters:

The phrasing "non-endgame" was chosen as certain relationships present were together at some point in canon but are not longer (ex. Blumendrei) or there was an either mutual or one-sided attraction that did not result in a relationship (ex. Widojest). It doesn't feel right to me to simply call these ships "non-canon", though they are featured alongside plenty of purely fanon ships (ex. Verinwulf), so. Non-endgame. It's a little clunky, but it works.

I've reincorporated pairings from the first poll that lost in the very first round, potentially giving them an opportunity to shine further! Any ship from the first poll that made it further than that is not present this time around. These pairings are: Widofjord, Fjordwulf, Vaxmore, Fjolly, Jester x Reani, Polynein, Vexleth, Perc'ildan, Beaukeg, Vexahra, Beastrid, Beaureani, Polymachina, Beaujester, Lucigast, and Widomauk. Please do not ask me where they are.

Almost every ship will feature fanart of the characters in question, included of course with permission from the artist. Links to the original posts will be included and I highly encourage giving them some love if you vote! Any ship that doesn't have a piece of fanart has a little tableau designed in HeroForge by myself. Grogleth is the only exception, with a still from TLOVM.

This bracket is for fun. Ship hate will not be tolerated. You will be blocked if you act poorly in the tags.

Block “cr non endgame poll” if you don’t want to see this further!

Voting will begin this Friday, February 14th, at 3pm CST. All polls will run for 24 hours. The first round will take place over two days, split into Parts A and B.

Matchup links and breakdown below the cut.

Round 1 Part A:

Laudna x Dorian VS Widoyussa

Polyhells VS Blumenshadow

Scanvax VS Dashrym

Dariax x Deni$e VS Shadowmauk

Beauvasha VS Percylan

Ludinus x Liliana VS Laudna x Fearne

Yu x Laudna VS Orym x Dariax

Kashleth VS Imofearne

Chetanna VS Vaxlethmore

Verinwulf VS Grogleth

Liliana x Otohan VS Yashter

Percy x Tary VS PolyCrownKeepers

Fearnechet VS Imogen x Otohan

Jessek VS Veth x Devexian

Luciessek VS Jester x Calianna

Shadowmoore VS Fjeth

Round 1 Part B:

Fjarrow VS Dashrymwill

Fearne x Braius VS Pikeleth

Widobrave VS Doomstorm

Ashrym VS Percy x Pike

Shadowidomauk VS Laudmoore

Shadowfjord VS Fearne x Opal

Verleth VS Greystorm

Blumendrei VS Percleth

Bashter VS Rubygold

Grog'ildan VS Kashvax

Jestermauk VS Doriax

Essek x Ludinus VS Widoking

Widojest VS Zerxus x Azmodeus

Laerryn x Patia VS Lucien x Cree

Esswulf VS Mariking

Jestrid VS Goldenshadow

Round 2:

Widoyussa VS Blumenshadow

Dashrym VS Dariax x Deni$e

Beauvasha VS Laudna x Fearne

Orym x Dariax VS Imofearne

Vaxlethmore VS Verinwulf

Yashter VS Percy x Tary

Fearnechet VS Veth x Devexian

Jester x Calianna VS Shadowmoore

Dashrymwill VS Fearne x Braius

Widobrave VS Ashrym

Shadowidomauk VS Fearne x Opal

Verleth VS Blumendrei

Bashter VS Kashvax

Doriax VS Widoking

Zerxus x Asmodeus VS Laerryn x Patia

Mariking VS Goldenshadow

Round 3:

Blumenshadow VS Dashrym

Beauvasha VS Imofearne

Vaxlethmore VS Percy x Tary

Fearnechet VS Jester x Calianna

Fearne x Braius VS Widobrave

Shadowidomauk VS Blumendrei

Bashter VS Doriax

Zerxus x Asmodeus VS Mariking

Round 4:

Dashrym VS Imofearne

Vaxlethmore VS Fearnechet

Widobrave VS Blumendrei

Bashter VS Zerxus x Asmodeus

Round 5, Semi-Finals:

Dashrym VS Vaxlethmore

Widobrave VS Bashter

Round 6, Finals:

Dashrym VS Widobrave

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vintagerpg · 4 months ago

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Flames of the Falcon (1990) wraps up the trilogy. Same creative team — big shout-out for Ken Frank’s hooked horror combat tableau.

OK, so, the Falcon escapes, obviously. The city is in chaos. She makes things worse by sending waves of undead attacks to further destabilize the situation. The players must hunt her down and finish her off. That takes them to Grey Manor (this module’s cardboard model) and, eventually, the caves beneath them. There is a lot of dungeon in this event-crawl! Populated by unusual monsters, too. The aforementioned hooked horrors, meanlocks and quite a lot of Derro. I really appreciate how the final cult complex calls out many features that were encountered in the first module’s cult stronghold and later salvaged and dragged here.

Couple things I want to highlight. First is that the Falcon is a pretty great villain. She’s powerful, ruthless, not stupid and can easily win out if the players are foolish. She’s also a she, which is worth mentioning, far more so than Zuggtmoy; she appears primarily as a Maleficent-esque sorceress with a double-horned hood, which is pretty great. She is maybe the first time in D&D that a boss has two forms — that sorceress, and her true form as a spirit naga, which could be a genuine surprise for the players at the climax.

The ending is a little bit baloney, honestly. One of the NPCs is a shape-shifting dragon who was instrumental in capturing Falcon the first time around and in the final battle, he changes form to the way he looked 60 years prior. This has two effects: it leaves the Falcon so stunned she just stands there sputtering for two whole rounds and, once she recovers, she focuses all her fire on that NPC, who can probably take it. It’s a little bit of the NPC vs NPC battle thing I so loathe, but the sputtering thing is so funny and goes to her unearned feelings of infallibility that I am inclined to give it a pass.

By the end of these adventures, the City of Greyhawk should feel like a living place full of plots and potential. I kind of love that they decided to blow it all up almost immediately, but I also understand why folks were upset.

#Dungeons & Dragons #TSR #Greyhawk #Flames of the Falcon #roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #rpg #d&d #ttrpg

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choerypetal · 2 years ago

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Distraction / Coriolanus Snow

Summary : Coriolanus and You are both selected as mentors, and let just say that he whenever you feel a little too 'sociable' he gets distracted and would make sure to who you belong to.

Enjoy! (English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistake)

To ascend to the role of mentor demanded a blend of finesse, charisma, and an unblemished demeanor, qualities reserved for the privileged echelons of Panem's chosen. The revelation of one's inclusion wasn't a mere announcement but a unstable pause, a stillness punctuated by the resounding utterance of names until, unmistakably, yours found its place on the coveted list.

Now, endowed not only with the prestigious title but also the requisite capability, you navigated the ensuing challenges with a sense of latent assurance. Throughout the process, an uncanny awareness gripped you, a conviction that Coriolanus’ watchful gaze bore into your very essence. An enigmatic conflict brewed within him, an unspoken desire for your exclusion even as he showered relentless accolades upon you.

In the covert depths of nocturnal meetings within his private sanctuary, his expressions wove a tapestry of profound admiration and genuine regard. Strikingly absent was any semblance of feigned surprise at your nomination, suggesting an anticipation of fate's alignment. "Y/N, step forward." Your name resonated with a meticulous pride in the legacy of your family, prompting you to descend gracefully along with your peers. One by one, individuals were chosen to assume the pivotal role of mentor, all for what ultimate purpose? The perilous pursuit of victory in the Hunger Games.

Coriolanus, in stark contrast, observed each nuance of your demeanor. Whether it was your poised rise from the chair, the exuberant cheers of your friends celebrating your selection, or the unmistakable pleasure tinged with a touch of envy directed toward the other male. You consistently confided in Coriolanus about the depth of your friendship with this individual. However, despite your forewarnings and the reassurances delivered in your angelic voice, it appeared that these declarations did little to prevent Coriolanus from appreciating in disgust, the subtlest of gestures exchanged between you and your friend in that crucial moment—a simple yet profound hug.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Coriolanus lingered at the entrance, anticipating your emergence. A fervent desire to claim your attention exclusively simmered within him, yet he judiciously postponed exploring those emotions, allowing you the space to break free from the throng. The spotlight gravitated toward the newly appointed mentors, Coriolanus included, but he deliberately sought the sanctuary of distance and its attendant consequences.

In the midst of joyous embraces shared between you and your chosen classmate, the vibrant hues of your smiles illuminated the tableau. When your eyes inevitably locked with Coriolanus's, a fleeting yet authentic smile on your lips wove a narrative of a carefully crafted excuse, suggesting an impending meeting with an urgency that, beneath its surface, concealed the true intention of drawing near to Coriolanus himself. "And I pondered, how in the world could I ever be chosen." You remarked with a momentary pause, a self-assured smirk gracing your features as you finally drew close to Snow. To this, Snow responded with a mirrored smirk, acknowledging. "Told you that you'd be selected. Can't say I was mistaken this time."

Flashing a subtle eye roll in response to his confidently asserted demands, you couldn't help but be amused by the way he carried himself. Not to mention, he felt the need to remind you of your privileged status as one of the select few chosen to be a mentor. Although you managed to conceal any traces of pride on your face, there was something intriguing about Coriolanus's sudden actions. The casual brush of his fingers against your waist, coupled with the assertive manner in which he approached you, conveyed a sense of control that he seemed to have gained from observing the ceremony. Despite the unexpected nature of his behavior, you didn't appear irritated; instead, you willingly let him take charge.

Breaking the silence, you interjected with a pause, shifting your gaze momentarily from Coriolanus to your friend, who had earlier hinted at a noticeable intimidation for Coriolanus. Returning your gaze to Coriolanus, you added. "You know," With a slight emphasis. "If you continue with this overly protective demeanor, you might end up making the poor thing even more uncomfortable." The emphasis on the 'poor thing' became more pronounced as your full attention returned to Coriolanus.

"When do I ever come across as too cocky?" He inquired, arching a brow in a way that seemed designed to make you feel diminutive compared to his self-assured demeanor. As you observed him, you could have sworn his smirk subtly grew in response to the effect he was having on you. Moreover, he didn't shy away from expressing his desire, doing so with a degree of sophistication that bordered on subtle affection. If the dynamics of your relationship were as apparent as he made them seem, you might have suspected he was merely engaging in this for amusement. Consequently, he left you with no choice but to respond to his probing question. "I am genuinely surprised that I can endure such teasing." You replied, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected turn of the conversation.

As the room gradually emptied, you sensed Coriolanus' breath drawing nearer to your skin. His warm presence had a dual effect, both intimidating and strangely comforting, especially when his arm casually encircled your waist, indicating no intention of letting go. His gaze softened as he noticed the subtle glimmer in your eyes in response to his proximity, even though you hadn't consciously tried to make it obvious. "You know, you look oddly beautiful today." He remarked. Stepping back slightly offended from his comment, you decided to play along in this familiar game that invariably concluded with a well-timed kiss between the two of you. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

In that moment, you experienced the gentle touch of his lips effortlessly gliding across your skin. Starting from your neck, his plush lips skillfully caressed and sucked at your soft flesh, leaving marks that would need to be concealed for the coming week, if not a few months, should he persist. Instead of dissuading him, you found yourself suggesting he continue, and he did. His free hand roamed down your entire body, drawing you closer to him. "You are mine," He asserted relentlessly, repeating the declaration without warning, as his lips now yearned for the connection with yours. "Mine until the end." He proclaimed with a conviction that left no room for doubt.

"I am yours." Your voice whispered softly, almost like suppressed whimpers escaping your lips as you endeavored to keep any audible sounds at bay. The awareness of being in a public space heightened the need for discretion, as the uncertainty of potential intruders loomed. "Yours until eternity, Coriolanus Snow." You added. His smile widened, and amid the kisses, you felt his teeth gently sinking into your bottom lip, eliciting more of those restrained whimpers and a silent plea for him to continue. "We should be careful not to get caught." You reminded him, although his affections only intensified, fueling a growing desire for more. "Who cares if someone sees us, sweetheart," he dismissed, his words brushing aside any concern for discretion.

"I do." A voice, familiar yet elusive in its identification, caused both of you to freeze in place. Coriolanus' grip on your arm tightened, the intensity more pronounced this time. He refused to release it, his brows furrowing in anger. It was evident that the intrusion had upset him more than either of you could have anticipated.

Volumnia Gaul fixed her gaze on both of you, her eyes piercing and unwavering. A pause lingered, seemingly devoted to contemplating the fate she had in mind for the two of you, not to mention devising a fitting punishment. Her reluctance to do so was palpable, considering your shared reputation as the Academy's top students and mentor. "Dr. Volumnia Gaul..." Coriolanus broke the silence with his response. In his defense, given the way he had left you in a state of supplication and submission, you found yourself rendered in silent, unable to offer any immediate rebuttal. “I can explain.”

"No need for it." She remarked, despite being well aware of the relationship dynamics between you and Coriolanus. While part of you yearned to inquire about the how of her knowledge, the weight of Gaul's reputation, coupled with her own legacy, left you feeling restless and apprehensive. The fear of inviting punishment held you back from probing further. However, to your surprise, Gaul chose not to impose any retribution. "Just be careful next time, especially you, Snow." She cautioned, emphasizing the importance of discretion in your interactions.

As her figure faded from view, you raised a skeptical brow in response to her remark, a shared laughter ensuing from the peculiar conclusion it left. "What did she mean by 'be careful'?" An undercurrent of concern swept through you, but Coriolanus reassured you with a gentle caress on your face, assuring you that everything would be okay. "Nothing, I suppose. My distraction just makes me a little too vulnerable at times." He confessed. Observing him closely, you tilted your head with a smirk playing on your lips. "And..." You paused for a moment, carefully choosing your words. "Am I the distraction?"

“You are.”

#hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #president snow #hunger games x reader #the hunger games katniss #the hunger games x reader #fanfiction x reader #imagines #coriolanus imagines #coriolanus x you

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sizzlingstarlightsky · 5 months ago

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**Lend A Helping Hand

Azriel x Dorian

[Exploration @sjmprideweek]

word count: 6.5k

Summary: Looking to expand intergalactic allyship, Azriel ends up in Adarlan. Coming face to face with King Dorian Havilliard II, he must plee his case. There's something about him that brings Azriel to his knees.

** Indicates smut

CW: Pretty much a Azriel x Dorian fever dream. Gay sex. Ass eating. Oral. Shadow/ Phantom play. Just hot guys loving hot guys.

Sorry for posting so late. I had a bad cluster migraine 🖤

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, where stars danced like silver glitter on a velvet canvas, cloaked in shadows, he moved with silent grace. His eyes as piercing as twin blades, surveyed the alien terrain, searching for signs of life.

His shadows whispered secrets through the breeze of towering crystalline structures that surrounded them.

This was not the mission he had planned, nor was it the planet he had intended to visit. Somehow, during his shadow walk, the fabric of space had twisted, and he had been flung to this uncharted realm.

A flash of light in the distance caught his attention. It was unlike any natural light he had seen in his long centuries of existence.

Curiosity piqued, Azriel approached cautiously, his wings folded tight against his back to avoid detection. The light grew stronger, and the air grew thick.

As he reached the source, a grand castle loomed ahead, its towers reaching towards the heavens. The walls gleamed with a metallic glass sheen that was not of this world. Well, maybe it was as he didn't know what world he was on.

The air was alive with the sound of laughter and music that spilled from the open windows. The scent of exotic blooms filled the night, a tantalizing bouquet that beckoned him closer.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Azriel slipped into the shadows, his steps silent and swift. The castle teemed with life, guards patrolling the perimeter.

He found a window that led to a chamber bathed in candlelight. Through the cracked pane, he saw a male figure lounging on a throne, surrounded by a court of beings that were a mix of human and fae.

The man on the throne looked up, his eyes meeting Azriel's through the glass, and a knowing smirk played on his lips. It was as if he had been expecting the shadowed figure's appearance all along. The king raised a hand, gesturing for the music to pause. The room stilled, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Azriel's hand glued to truth teller.

"Welcome," Dorian's voice was a rich purr that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the shadows.

Surprise flickered in Azriel's eyes before he could school them to his usual impassive mask. How had the king known he was there? His shadowy form was all but invisible unless you had the power to see it. Yet, there the king sat, staring directly at him with an amused tilt to his head.

With a silent curse, Azriel stepped out of the shadows, his form solidifying into a figure that was as much a contradiction as the realm he found himself in. He was a warrior dressed in the armor of darkness, yet there was a beauty to his sharp features and the way his moved through the night. He bowed deeply before the king.

The courtiers gasped in unison, their whispers a symphony of shock as they took in his ethereal presence. The room was a tableau of frozen figures, all eyes on the mysterious being that had just emerged from the very air itself. Dorian's smirk grew, a gleam of challenge in his gaze as he took in the newcomer.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his tone a blend of curiosity and command.

"I am Azriel," he replied, his voice a whisper of nightfall. "A wanderer who lost his way in the stars."

Dorian leaned forward, intrigue glinting in his eyes.

"Lost, you say?" He gestured to the guards who had drawn their weapons, and they lowered them, though not entirely sheathing them. "You find yourself in a peculiar place, Wanderer."

"Indeed," Azriel said, rising from his bow. "I seek only knowledge, not conflict."

Dorian's gaze was sharp, assessing the truth in Azriel's words. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively.

"Then you shall have it." He descended from his throne, the train of his robe trailing behind him like a river of blood. "Walk with me."

The two males left the chamber, the courtiers' whispers following them. The shadows stayed silent, as if they to were as flabbergasted as their master.

As they moved through the halls of the castle, the Kings stride was purposeful. Azriel matched his pace, his eyes darting around, taking in every detail of the unfamiliar surroundings.

Dorian led him to a private study, the walls lined with ancient tomes that emitted a faint glow. The king poured them both a glass of a deep red liquid that smelled of berries and spices.

"Tell me, Wanderer," Dorian began, handing him a glass. "What is it that you wish to know?"

The question was loaded, and Azriel knew better than to reveal too much. He took the offered glass, the warmth of the liquid seeping into his palm.

"I am searching for allies. A gateway has been opened in our world. We're hoping to expand interdimensional relationships." He took a sip, the flavor rich and potent, leaving a trail of fire down his throat. "But I seem to have landed in the wrong place. Deepest apologies my king."

Dorian's smile grew, his teeth sharp.

"Dorian. I am not your king, nor do I hold dominion over the stars." He leaned back, his eyes never leaving Azriel's. "But I do enjoy a good tale of adventure and intrigue."

He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.

"Perhaps, we could help one another."

Dorian's gaze was like a caress, leaving Azriel feeling both exposed and desired. It was a sensation he was unfamiliar with, and it stirred something within him that was as unsettling as it was intoxicating. He took a moment to compose himself, the warmth of the drink spreading through his body, and set his glass down with a deliberate click.

"Your realm is fascinating," Azriel said, his voice as smooth as the liquid they sipped. "Yet, I fear my presence may bring trouble. I would not wish to impose."

Dorian's smile was knowing.

"Trouble often finds me, regardless of where I am in the universe. I suspect you're more than capable of handling whatever may come our way." He took another sip, his eyes never leaving Azriel's.

The king leaned closer, his breath warm and tantalizing. "But let us not speak of troublesome matters just yet. Where had you intended to go?"

Azriel's heart fluttered, his gaze dropping to the king's lips before he could stop it. He cleared his throat, focusing on the task at hand.

"The planet Eos."

Dorian's eyes widened, a spark of genuine interest lighting them. "Eos," he murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I believe we've met a few residents from one of its countries. There's some beautiful creatures there."

"I have yet the pleasure of knowing," Azriel replied, his voice measured and calm, though his heart was anything but.

He took a deep breath, his scent mingling with the king's own allure.

"However, I was not brought there. Perhaps there is something else of value in our meeting."

Dorian's smile grew, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

"Ah, the sweet scent of destiny. How could I resist such an intriguing quest?" He set his glass down and stepped closer, his hand brushing against Azriel's arm.

The contact sent a jolt through the shadowy warrior, and he felt his wings twitch involuntarily.

"I am intrigued by your quest, Wanderer, and I am a king who enjoys the company of the extraordinary."

The air between them grew charged, and Azriel had to fight the urge to lean into the king's touch.

"I appreciate your hospitality, Dorian," he said, his voice a little too husky for his own liking.

Dorian's eyes searched his, a question lurking in their depths.

"Is it just the allyship that brings you to my realm, or perhaps your shadows whisper of something else?"

The touch of Dorian's hand on his arm was like a brand, marking him in a way he hadn't expected. Azriel felt his cheeks heat slightly, a blush that was almost invisible against his pale skin. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words to explain his reaction.

"The shadows speak of many things" he hedged.

Dorian's leaned in even closer. "And do they whisper sweet nothings about the king of this realm?"

Azriel's breath hitched, the warmth from Dorian's body radiating towards him like a sun's embrace. The king's eyes searched his own, looking for something, anything that would give him a clue to the tumult of emotions he was feeling.

"Perhaps," Azriel replied, his voice a murmur that seemed to echo through the room.

The corners of Dorian's eyes crinkled with mirth.

"Perhaps," he echoed, his hand still resting lightly on Azriel's arm. "Tell me more, Wanderer. What whispers do your shadows share?"

Azriel knew he could not lie to one who could see the depths of his soul. He leaned back, breaking the connection. The loss of contact leaving a cold trail on his arm.

"They speak of a king who is both fierce and just, whose beauty is matched only by his cunning."

Dorian's smile grew into a full grin, his eyes alight with amusement. "And do you find me to your liking?"

Azriel's cheeks flushed deeper, but he held the king's gaze. "I find you...unexpected."

Dorian chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mirth. "The universe is full of unexpected delights, isn't it?" He stepped away.

He could smell the scent of his arousal, faint but unmistakable, mingling with the heady aroma of the candles that burned in the room. He hoped Dorian's senses were too preoccupied with his own thoughts to detect the subtle shift in the air.

The king's laughter was low and seductive, a sound that seemed to resonate within the very marrow of Azriel's bones.

"Unexpected indeed," he agreed, his eyes flickering over Azriel's form with a hunger that was unmistakable. "But I suspect that is what makes you all the more intriguing."

"My apologies, your majesty," Azriel said, his voice tight with restrained desire. "I did not intend to cause you any distraction."

"Nonsense," Dorian waved a hand dismissively. "And I told you to call me Dorian." He stepped closer again, his hand sliding up to Azriel's neck, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

The touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Azriel's body. He hadn't felt such a reaction in centuries, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"What are your intentions with me?" Azriel's voice was a rasp, his eyes locked with Dorian's.

Dorian leaned in, his breath a warm caress against Azriel's cheek.

"To aid you in your quest, of course," he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of his ear. "But perhaps there are other ways in which we might be of use to each other." His hand slid down to rest over Azriel's chest, the heat of it burning through the leather armor.

Azriel closed his eyes, willing his body to calm. "Dorian, " he murmured, focusing on the task at hand.

Dorian's grip tightened, his thumb stroking the pulse point at the base of Azriel's neck. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice a warm rumble. "But tell me, why is planetary allyship so precious to you?"

Azriel's eyes snapped open, meeting the king's. "It is not for me, but for my queen. With it, she could save our realm, our people."

Dorian's gaze softened, a hint of understanding crossing his features. "A noble quest indeed," he murmured, his hand still resting on Azriel's chest. "But what of your own desires?"

"My desires are bound to my duty," Azriel said, his voice steady, though his heart was racing like a wild steed.

Dorian's hand paused, his gaze searching. "But even warriors have hearts, do they not?"

Without waiting for a response, Dorian leaned closer, his face coming to rest against the cool, unyielding surface of Azriel's chest. He inhaled deeply, his nose twitching slightly. Azriel felt his body stiffen, his heart racing as the king's breath ghosted up towards the sensitive skin of his neck. He could feel the heat of Dorian's arousal as it wafted towards him.

The shadows that clung to Azriel's form pulse with a life of their own, shifting and twitching in time with the erratic beating of his heart. His cock, usually as stoic as the rest of him, was now standing at attention, eager to explore the unknown territory of Dorian's embrace. It was an uncomfortable sensation, but he enjoyed it.

He knew the king was playing a game, and yet, the thrill of it all had Azriel entranced. Each stroke of his thumb sent a shiver down his spine, and every time he pulled away, the cold of his absence left a void that only Dorian could fill.

"Your heart beats like a caged bird," Dorian murmured, his breath hot and tantalizing against the curve of Azriel's ear. "What secrets does it hold?"

Azriel's eyes narrowed, though the corners of his lips twitched with a smirk.

"I'd tell you," he replied, his own gloved hand coming up to cover Dorian's. "But then I'd have to kill you."

Dorian's laugh was sudden and delighted, the sound of it resonating through the chamber. He pulled away from Azriel, his hand sliding down to catch the warrior's, and for a brief moment, their fingers intertwined, the warmth of the king's skin seeping through the leather. The room was alive with the sound of their mingled breaths.

"Such a deadly creature," Dorian said, his voice a caress. "But fear not, I am not so easily swayed by mere words." He leaned in closer, their faces almost touching.

"Perhaps a different form of persuasion is needed."

Without waiting for a response, Dorian's lips met Azriel's in a kiss that was as surprising as it was fierce. It was a kiss that held centuries of unknown longing.

Azriel's initial shock gave way to a surge of passion that ignited like wildfire in his veins. The shadows around them seemed to pulse and swirl in response, as if they too were caught in the intensity of the moment.

Dorian's mouth was demanding, yet gentle, as he explored the uncharted territory of Azriel's lips. The warrior's own response was a mix of reluctance and hunger, his body betraying his usual stoic demeanor. He found himself leaning into the kiss, his hands coming up to frame Dorian's face, the softness of his touch belying the strength in his grip.

The king's hands were everywhere, sliding over the leather armor that protected Azriel's body, searching for any weakness, any entry point to claim as his own.

Azriel's mind raced, torn between his duty and the undeniable attraction that pulled him closer to Dorian.

His body, however, had no such qualms, responding eagerly to the king's touch. His own hands roamed Dorian's body, finding the warmth and strength beneath the fabric of his royal garments. Their kiss grew deeper, tongues dancing together in a silent conversation of want and need.

With a sudden move, Dorian swiveled his hips, straddling Azriel's thighs as he sat on his lap. The warrior's eyes widened in surprise, his arms instinctively wrapping around the king's waist to keep him steady. The contact sent shockwaves of desire through Azriel's body as he felt Dorian's erection press against him through the layers of clothing that separated them.

The king's hands found their way under Azriel's shirt, his fingertips brushing against the taut muscles of his stomach. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent shivers up his spine. Dorian's eyes searched his, seeking permission, and with a gasp, Azriel found himself nodding, his body aching for more.

Dorian's hands grew bolder, his fingers tracing the lines of Azriel's abdomen before moving lower, teasing the edge of his pants.

But it was the shadows themselves that decided the next move. They coiled around Dorian's wrists, seemingly of their own accord, and with a sudden, almost violent tug, they ripped his crimson robe from his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a pool of fabric, leaving him bare before Azriel's eyes.

The king's chest was a sculpture of muscles, each one defined and gleaming in the candlelight. The shadows danced around them, caressing the newfound expanse of Dorian's body with dark, hungry kisses.

The sight of Dorian's bare skin was a revelation, a declaration of intent that Azriel couldn't ignore. His own hands moved almost of their own accord, tracing the lines of muscle and power that lay before him. His fingers danced along the king's collarbone, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath the warm, living flesh.

The shadows whispered sweet, seductive nothings, urging him to give in to the passion that simmered between them.

Dorian's eyes grew darker, his pupils dilating with desire. He rocked his hips against Azriel's, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through their bodies. It was new and thrilling in this uncharted territory.

"Tell me," Dorian murmured against his lips, his breath a warm promise of more to come. "Is it only your queen for whom you long?"

"It's not like that," Azriel managed to gasp out, though his mind was growing murkier by the second. "She's my brother's mate."

Dorian's eyes searched his, a hint of surprise flitting across his features before he smirked.

"Ah, I see," he said, his thumb brushing against the ring that lay hidden beneath Azriel's shirt "And your mate is?"

"I am unclaimed," Azriel replied, his voice a bare whisper, his eyes locked with Dorian's.

Dorian's smile grew, a wicked glint in his eye.

"How fortunate for us," he said, his hand moving to Azriel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the leather. "For I find myself quite...taken with you."

With a trembling hand, Azriel reached up and unbuckled the strap that held his right glove in place. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Dorian's as he slowly peeled the fabric away from his left hand.

The king's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the scars that marred Azriel's flesh. His hands were a tapestry of pain.

Dorian's own hand hovered over the warrior's, a question in his eyes.

"These are not the marks of a gentle life," he murmured, his thumb tracing the jagged lines with a tenderness that sent shivers down Azriel's spine.

The shadowy warrior's breath hitched, his eyes closing briefly.

"You owe me no explanation if you do not wish to," Dorian said softly, one hand still in Azriel's.

The other against his chest, thumb tracing the frantic beat of the warrior's heart.

With a violent sureness, Azriel's eyes snapped open. He claimed Dorian's mouth once more. His hands moved with a will of their own, sliding down the king's body to grip the fabric of his pants.

The sound of Dorian's gasp was music to his ears as he found the king's hardness, stroking him through the material. The king's hips rolled against his palm, the heat of his arousal burning through the barrier.

With a sudden jerk, Dorian pulled away, his eyes blazing. He stood up, the fabric of his pants tenting outwardly.

"Not here," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Not now."

Azriel felt a pang of rejection, his hands falling to his sides. "Your majesty-"

Dorian cut him off with a look that was both fiery and commanding.

"I want you, make no mistake," he said, his voice a low rumble.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two males stared at one another. The king reached out and traced a line along Azriel's cheek, his thumb lingering over the fullness of his lower lip.

"But this is not a meeting to be rushed, nor one to be held in the presence of prying eyes."

A thrill of anticipation shot through Azriel, his hazel eyes darkening with a need that mirrored Dorian's own lust deepened blue.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Dorian stepped back, the loss of contact leaving them both trembling.

"Come," he said, taking Azriel's hand in his own. "We shall continue this...discussion in private."

The warrior allowed himself to be led, his mind racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. They walked through the castle, the shadows seeming to bow before them as if acknowledging their king and the one he had chosen.

As they were approaching Dorian's chambers, Azriel felt a sudden, unexpected touch. It was as if a phantom had reached out of the darkness to cup him firmly through his pants.

He gasped, his eyes going wide as he looked down to see nothing there. His own shadows touch are a familiar comfort, this was a different force entirely.

Dorian's eyes met his, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Allow me to show you true hospitality," he murmured.

The king's chambers were as opulent as the rest of the castle, with velvet drapes and gold-leafed furnishings. The scent of exotic spices and incense filled the air, a heady mix that made Azriel's senses swim.

Dorian closed the door with a gentle click, the sound echoing in the quiet room. He turned to face Azriel, his eyes dark with want.

"Now," he said, his voice a low purr, "where were we?"

Azriel's breath caught in his throat, the phantom touch from the shadows still a lingering presence between them.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice shallow.

Dorian stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and desire. "Im impatient, " he said, his hand tracing along Azriel's chest. "And got a little handsy."

The shadowsingers breath hitched, his body responding to the king's touch despite his confusion.

"Your... shadows," he managed to murmur.

Dorian's smile grew, his hand sliding up to rest on Azriel's chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of his heart.

"A small demonstration of my power." he said, his voice a soft purr. "A taste of what we could do."

Azriel swallowed hard, his hand shaking slightly as he reached for the buckle of his own pants. With trembling fingers, he managed to undo the clasp. The material fell away, revealing his own hardness, standing proud against his abs.

Dorian's eyes widened, his gaze dropping to take in the sight before him. "Beautiful," he murmured, his hand sliding down to wrap around Azriel's cock.

Azriel's eyes fell shut as the king's hand began to stroke him in a slow, steady rhythm that had him moaning with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," Dorian murmured, his eyes feasting on the warrior's body.

Azriel's breath hitched, his eyes opening to meet the king's gaze. "You're not so bad yourself," he said, his voice low and husky.

Dorian's smile was all teeth as he stepped closer, his hand still working magic on Azriel's cock. He leaned in, their lips millimeters apart.

"I'm more than good," he said, his voice a dark promise.

Without waiting for a response, Dorian dropped to his knees, taking Azriel in his mouth. The warrior's head fell back with a moan, his eyes rolling back in his head. The king's mouth hot and wet, his tongue skilled and sure.

The shadows in the room grew more insistent, coiling around them both like a lover's embrace, whispering dark secrets and promises of pleasure. Azriel could feel the power of Dorian's magic, a thrumming energy that seemed to resonate with his own. His body was alight with sensation, his wings quivering with every touch and caress.

Dorian's mouth was a masterpiece of pleasure, his tongue swirling around the head of Azriel's cock before delving deeper, taking him in until he hit the back of his throat.

The sound of his moans filled the room, echoing off the high ceiling and mingling with the scent of arousal that thickened the air.

Azriel's hands found purchase in Dorian's hair, his grip tight as he fought the urge to thrust his hips forward, to fuck the king's mouth like he knew Dorian wanted. He'd never felt so out of control, so at the mercy of another's touch.

Dorian's eyes were closed in concentration, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, the wet sounds of his ministrations adding to the symphony of pleasure. The king's hand gripped the base of Azriel's cock, his thumb tracing the vein that ran along the length of it, sending bolts of pleasure through his body.

The shadows grew bolder, wrapping around Dorian's neck, urging him on. The king's eyes snapped open, the pupils blown wide with desire. He looked up at Azriel, the challenge clear in his gaze.

Azriel met his gaze, the intensity of it making his knees wobble. He knew he was playing with fire, but the flame was so tempting. He leaned in, whispering against Dorian's ear.

"Take me, your majesty," he murmured, the words a sultry invitation that sent a shiver down the king's spine.

Dorian pulled back with a gasp, his eyes blazing. He surged to his feet, lifting Azriel off the floor with surprising strength. Their mouths crashed together again, teeth clinking and tongues dancing.

The warrior's legs wrapped around Dorian's waist, his arms around the king's neck, holding him close. The room spun around them.

Dorian's hands were everywhere, pushing fabric out of the way, seeking skin. They made it to the bed, the silken sheets whispering against their skin as Dorian laid Azriel down, his body following.

Dorian's hand found its way to Azriel's cock again, stroking him in time with their kisses. Azriel's wings, usually a symbol of his stoicism and control, fluttered behind him, betraying the tumult of emotions that raged within.

The king's kiss grew more demanding, his teeth grazing the warrior's lower lip before soothing it with a gentle suck.

"Fuck, Dorian," Azriel moaned, his body arching up into the touch. The language was crude, but the sentiment was pure and raw, a reflection of the need that clawed at him from the inside out.

The king's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched the effect he had on the stoic warrior.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. "You want more?"

"Yes," Azriel gasped, his body straining against Dorian's touch. "More."

The king chuckled darkly, his hand moving to undo his own pants, freeing his erection fully. He stroked himself, his grip firm and sure, his eyes never leaving the warrior's face.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I intend to give you everything."

With a sudden shift in the air, Dorian's shadowed hands coiled around Azriel's wrists, pinning them to the bed.

The warrior gasped, his eyes widening with surprise, but the thrill of it only served to heighten his arousal. He struggled against the restraints, his body begging for more. He wasn't used to being the one tied up. Let alone by darkness not of his own.

Dorian leaned over him, a feral smile playing on his lips. "I've been waiting for someone like you," he murmured, his breath hot against Azriel's neck.

He kissed along the line of his collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before moving lower. His mouth found one of the warrior's nipples, sucking hard.

Azriel's body bowed off the bed, a sound of pure pleasure ripping from his throat. He'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The shadows held him tight, their grip unyielding as the king explored his body with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Dorian's eyes gleamed with dark desire as he kissed a trail down Azriel's stomach. He reached the top of his thighs, his breath ghosting against the sensitive skin.

With a sudden, almost savage grace, Dorian pushed Azriel's legs apart and over his shoulders. The warrior's body was bared to him, vulnerable and exposed.

He took a moment to appreciate the beauty before him, the muscled thighs, the tight, puckered entrance that promised untold pleasure. He could see the tension in Azriel's body, the way his abs clenched in anticipation. The shadows around his wrists grew thicker.

Dorian leaned in, his tongue sliding out to taste the warrior's skin. He traced a line from the base of his cock to the tight ring of muscle, the heat of his breath making Azriel shiver. He pressed a kiss against it, feeling the warrior's body tense beneath him.

"Please," Azriel begged, his voice a ragged whisper. "Take me."

Dorian's smirk grew wicked as he positioned himself between the warrior's spread thighs. He reached for the nightstand, his hand emerging with a small bottle of oil that gleamed in the candlelight. He coated his fingers, watching as Azriel's eyes grew dark with need.

The king's touch was featherlight as he began to work the oil into Azriel's skin, his fingers circling his ass, teasing and pressing until the warrior's hips began to buck.

The sound of his moans grew louder, his body begging for more.

Dorian leaned down, his tongue following the path of his fingers. He licked and kissed, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin until Azriel was trembling beneath him. The warrior's breath grew ragged, his eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold onto some semblance of control.

But Dorian was relentless, his mouth moving closer and closer to the spot that would shatter Azriel's restraint. The tip of his tongue flicked out, teasing the tight ring before pushing inside.

The warrior's eyes shot open, his back arching off the bed with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. The shadows around them swirled in a frenzy, their whispers growing louder, more insistent. Wings twitching frantically against the silken sheets.

Dorian's eyes gleamed with victory as he watched Azriel's reactions, his own desire reaching a fever pitch. He pushed his tongue in deeper, curling them to hit that special spot inside him that would have the warrior begging for release.

"Please," Azriel whimpered, his voice barely recognizable. He'd never been touched like this before, never been so thoroughly claimed by another.

Dorian's tongue swirled and stroked, his fingers joining the dance. They slid in alongside his tongue, stretching and preparing.

"Yes," Azriel moaned, his voice a broken plea.

Dorian's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt Azriel's body tighten around his fingers. He could feel the warrior's orgasm building, the muscles in his ass clenching and releasing as he grew closer to the edge.

"Come for me," Dorian murmured against his skin.

The words were a command and a prayer, and Azriel obeyed. He let go of the last shred of his control, his body tightening around Dorian's fingers. The king's mouth pulled away with a pop, and Azriel felt the warmth of Dorian's breath on his sensitive skin. His hips bucked upward, seeking more, desperate for the release that hovered just out of reach.

With a swift, powerful motion, Dorian flipped Azriel over onto his stomach, the shadows releasing their hold on his wrists. The warrior's wings spread out above him, casting a wide shadow across the bed. The king's hands were everywhere, smoothing down his back, gripping his hips, spreading his thighs wider apart.

Dorian positioned himself behind Azriel. The warrior's body quivered with anticipation, his breath coming in shallow pants. He could feel the heat of Dorian's cock against his ass.

The king leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against the warrior's ear. "You're mine," he said, his voice filled with possession.

The words sent a shiver down Azriel's spine as he felt the tip of Dorian's cock press against him, slick with oil and precum. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the burn that was to come.

With a single, powerful thrust, Dorian filled him completely, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing in the stillness of the room. Azriel's eyes squeezed shut, and a low, guttural sound tore from his throat as the king's cock stretched him wide.

"That's it," Dorian murmured, his voice as thick as him. "Take me like a good boy."

Azriel's eyes flew open, the king's words sending a fresh wave of arousal through him. He'd never been talked to like this before, and it was a heady feeling, to be dominated so completely by someone he desired so fiercely. He pushed back into Dorian's grip, the fullness of the king's cock making him feel complete.

Dorian began to move, his hips pistoning in a steady rhythm that had Azriel's eyes rolling back in his head. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through his body, setting every nerve ending alight. The shadows in the room grew darker, their whispers louder, urging them both onward to the crescendo that waited just out of reach.

One of the king's phantom hand reached around to stroke Azriel's cock in time with his thrusts, the warrior's hips rocking back to meet him. The feeling was overwhelming. He could feel the pressure building, the tension in his balls growing tight.

"You're so fucking tight," Dorian growled, his teeth digging into Azriel's shoulder. "So perfect."

"Fuck me harder," Azriel moaned, his body moving in time with the king's relentless rhythm.

The filthy words spilling from his mouth were. All he could think about was the way Dorian's cock filled him, the way he felt claimed and owned.

Dorian's grip on Azriel's hip tightened, his nails digging into the warrior's skin as he complied with the desperate plea.

"You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark purr. "You want me to fuck you until you scream my name?"

"Yes," Azriel hissed, his voice raw and desperate.

He'd never felt so wanton, so utterly consumed by lust. The king's words were a drug, a filthy incantation that had him writhing beneath the other male's touch.

"Fuck," Dorian groaned, his own hips snapping forward, driving into the warrior with a ferocity that left them both gasping.

"You're going to come for me," he growled, his breath hot against Azriel's ear. "You're going to come so hard you'll see the stars you came from."

"Yes! Dorian!" Azriel chanted, the word becoming a mantra as the king's cock hit that spot deep inside him that made him feel like he was flying.

The shadows around them danced, their whispers growing to a crescendo that matched the tempo of their passion.

Dorian's hand moved faster on Azriel's cock, his thumb pressing into the slit at the top, smearing his first orgasm across the sensitive head.

"You're so close," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "Come for me, my sweet warrior. Give me everything you've got."

Azriel's body tensed, his wings fluttering above him as he fought the urge to come. The king's words were like a whip, urging him on, pushing him closer to the edge.

"I'm...I'm...oh gods," he panted, his voice breaking.

"That's it," Dorian encouraged, his own breath coming in harsh pants. "Tell me how good it feels to have my cock in your tight ass."

"It's so...fucking...good," Azriel gritted out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

"That's it," Dorian purred, his voice a sinful caress that sent shivers down Azriel's spine. "Good boy."

The warrior could feel his control slipping, his body responding to the king's filthy words like a finely tuned instrument.

"Dorian," he moaned, the name falling from his lips like a curse and a benediction all at once.

"You want it," Dorian said, his voice low and seductive. "You want to cum around my cock as I fill you up, don't you?"

"Yes," Azriel moaned, the word torn from his chest as Dorian's shadowed hand tightened even more on his cock.

The king's thrusts grew more erratic, his own control slipping as he felt the warrior's body tightening around him.

"Now," he growled, his voice a command that resonated through the very air.

With a roar that seemed to shake the stars themselves, Azriel came, his orgasm a white-hot burst of pleasure that left him trembling and weak. The shadows in the room grew darker, their whispers becoming a roar as Dorian's own climax crashed over him, his cock pulsing deep inside Azriel's ass.

The king's body went rigid, his eyes squeezed shut as he painted the warrior's insides with his seed. The feel of Dorian's release sent another wave of pleasure through Azriel, his body milking every last drop from the king.

They remained like that for a moment, panting and trembling, their hearts racing in time with the shadows that danced around them.

Dorian leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Azriel's neck, his breath hot and ragged against the warrior's skin. "You're mine," he whispered, the words a declaration that sent a thrill through Azriel's veins.

The shadows around them grew calmer, their whispers a gentle lullaby that seemed to soothe the warrior's racing heart. Dorian slid out of him, his cock still half-hard, glistening in the candlelight. He pulled Azriel up to his chest, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum.

Their breathing evened out, and the shadows grew still, as if satisfied by the union they had just witnessed. Dorian's hand stroked up and down Azriel's back, his touch gentle and soothing.

"Your's," Azriel murmured, the words a soft echo. He felt something inside him shift, something profound and undeniable. "For you, I would build a bridge between our worlds by hand."

Dorian's smile was warm and gentle, his eyes shining with an emotion that was deeper than lust.

"That wont be nessisary," he replied, his thumb brushing over the warrior's cheekbone.

With a flick of his wrist, the shadows coiled around his hand, and a ring appeared, nestled in the dark tendrils. The metal was gold with a 3 blue stones encircling one another.

"Where ever it is you have to go, promise you'll come back to me."

The room grew quiet, the shadows retreating to their corners as if to give them a moment of privacy. Dorian's heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn't meant to reveal his hand so soon, but the moment had felt right.

"What...what is that?" Azriel's voice was soft, his eyes wide as he stared at the ring.

Dorian's hand paused, his thumb tracing the band of gold. "A reminder of our allyship" he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

"But...how?" Azriel's eyes never left the ring, his mind racing, still hazy.

"I'd tell you," Dorian said with a knowing smile. "But then I'd have to kill you."

The tension in the room grew thicker than the shadows that clung to the corners. Dorian's eyes searched Azriel's, looking for any sign of betrayal, any hint that he might be a threat.

"Fate, perhaps has detoured you," Dorian said, his voice low and seductive. "Or maybe I knew you would come to me."

His eyes never left Azriel's, the intensity in them burning like the heart of a star. "Take it," he said, his voice a gentle command. "It's yours."

"I promise I'll come back." Slowly, Azriel extended his hand.

Dorian slid the ring onto his finger, the metal warm against his skin. The moment it clicked into place, the shadows grew still, the whispers fad into a peaceful hum.

"It fits," Azriel murmured, his eyes locked on the ring.

Dorian chuckled. "Just as I fit you."

@sjmprideweek thankfully the migraine left and gave me a couple days to finally make the last minute edits. I hope you're feeling better 🖤

@chunkypossum @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ysmtttty @nessiandefenseattorney @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing @azysmate @yennas-stuff @a-courtof-azriel @batboyrhyrhy @lilah-asteria @velarisnightsky444 @christeareads @thestarlightexpress @viktoriaashleyyx @invaderdreyar

#sjmprideweek2025 #exploration #azriel x dorian #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #a court of thornes and roses #sarah j maas #azriel smut #dorian smut

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fudgeez · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1: Enigmas and Echoes

Synopsis: New student Y/N's quiet observation is disrupted by encounters with student council president Yujin and a confrontational professor, revealing her sharp intellect and defiance. A cafeteria incident exposes her connection to popular Karina, who fiercely defends her, hinting at a hidden familial bond beneath Y/N's solitary facade.

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Y/N, map loosely held, followed Karina through the verdant maze of WQ University's gardens. Karina, a whirlwind of campus lore, detailed the intricate social hierarchy, pointing out landmarks and student cliques with practiced ease. Y/N, a mask of polite disinterest veiling her sharp observation, snapped photos, each frame a meticulously composed piece of art.

"And there," Karina gestured towards a secluded rose garden, "usually a sanctuary, but..."

Their conversation abruptly ceased as they rounded a corner, colliding with a figure hidden behind a meticulously trimmed hedge. A lit cigarette, dropped in surprise, smoldered on the manicured lawn. It was Yujin, the student council president, her reputation for flawless composure and unwavering authority preceding her. A flicker of annoyance, quickly suppressed, crossed her features.

"President Yujin!" Karina exclaimed, her voice a mix of apology and deference. "We're so sorry, we didn't see you."

Y/N, her expression an unreadable tableau, merely observed Yujin. Yujin's gaze, however, lingered on Y/N, drawn by her enigmatic aura. A subtle tension crackled in the air. She noticed the phone in Y/N’s hand, the lens still faintly warm.

“May I see your phone?” Yujin requested, her tone a velvet-wrapped steel.

Karina glanced at her sister, a silent question in her eyes. "Why?"

"Because you took my picture, which could compromise my image," Yujin stated, her voice laced with a subtle threat. Y/N, unfazed, replied, "There's nothing on my phone," but Yujin’s outstretched hand remained implacable.

A discreet nudge from Karina prompted Y/N to sigh, a sound barely audible, and she surrendered her phone. Yujin meticulously examined its contents, finding no compromising photos. Instead, she discovered a collection of breathtakingly beautiful, artistically rendered images of various campus locales, each a testament to Y/N's exceptional talent.

A faint, almost imperceptible, flicker of interest sparked in Yujin’s eyes.

"You have a remarkable eye," Yujin commented, returning the phone. "Why don't you consider joining the photography club? You clearly possess a… gift."

Y/N simply shrugged, the gesture dismissive. "Not interested." A thread of defiance, subtle yet unmistakable, hung in the air.

Yujin's intended response was interrupted by Wonyoung's arrival, her presence radiating warmth and composure. "Here, Yujin, to neutralize the scent," Wonyoung said, offering a small, elegantly crafted container with a gentle, almost tender, smile.

Yujin accepted the container, consuming its contents, a small, mint-flavored confection.

"Thank you, Wonyoung," she replied, her voice softening slightly, a rare display of vulnerability.

Wonyoung's gaze, however, lingered on Y/N, a silent promise, a veiled curiosity, sparking in her eyes. The air around Y/N seemed to thicken, a subtle shift in the dynamics, a silent acknowledgment of the game that had just begun.

The first history class after the garden incident began. Y/N sat in the middle row, absorbed in her book. Chaewon, with naive enthusiasm, introduced herself.

“Hi, my name is Chaewon.” The class focused on Zeus's family, a tangle of divine relationships.

“Name’s Y/N Yu,” Y/N replied, returning to her book, a barrier erected.

Chaewon's smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment. “So, how old are you?” she asked, attempting to breach the wall.

“Twenty-four,” Y/N replied, her gaze fixed on the page, a fortress of indifference.

“Oh, we’re the same age!” Chaewon exclaimed, grasping for connection.

“Nice,” Y/N said, a curt, monosyllabic dismissal.

Y/N sought solace in isolation, her past a haunting specter. School was a refuge, a means to an end, a path to anonymity. The quiet hum of the classroom was a welcome shield, a stark contrast to the cacophony of her memories. She was a wraith, a shadow, and she intended to remain unseen.

Chaewon, her friendly persistence thwarted, was silenced by the professor’s arrival.

“Okay, tell me something about Zeus and Hades,” the professor announced, their voice a clarion call. The class commenced, and Y/N, though outwardly aloof, absorbed every detail, her sharp mind honed by adversity. The myths of gods and their capricious power held a disquieting resonance.

The professor initiated a relentless interrogation, calling on students randomly. "What was Zeus's relationship to Poseidon?" Silence, heavy and thick, permeated the room.

"Anyone?" The professor's voice, laced with a subtle menace, echoed. "If you cannot answer, you will stand for the remainder of the class." A nervous tremor rippled through the room, a collective breath held in apprehension.

Sunghoon tentatively raised his hand. "I think they're blood relatives, like father and son?" he offered, his voice wavering slightly.

"Are you answering or questioning me, Mr. Sunghoon?" the professor asked, their tone sharp. Sunghoon swallowed nervously, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Both, sir," he stammered.

The professor shook their head, declaring Sunghoon would remain standing. A wave of anxiety washed over the students.

The class dragged on for thirty minutes, with several students standing and others anxiously awaiting their turn. "Is Zeus a villain or a flawed hero?" the professor suddenly asked, breaking the tense silence.

The room fell silent. "Anyone?" the professor repeated, their eyes scanning the class.

No one dared to answer until the professor called on Y/N. "I heard we have a new student. Who is that?" Y/N raised her hand.

"Your name?" the professor asked, scrutinizing her.

"Yu Y/N," she replied.

"Are you related to Karina, the student council secretary?" the professor asked, piquing the curiosity of the entire class. "She's my sister," Y/N confirmed.

"Really? You don't look alike," the professor chuckled, eliciting nervous laughter from some students, though Chaewon frowned, confused by the relevance.

"Not all siblings need to resemble each other. According to science, basic genetic shuffling during reproduction, along with environmental impacts on gene activity, can cause big differences in how people look, even within the same family. Plus, what 'looking alike' means is really just a matter of opinion. Studies even show we tend to see more similarities than are actually there." Y/N’s voice remained calm, her tone factual.

The professor, caught off guard by the detailed yet simplified explanation, felt a flicker of annoyance. "Alright, alright,"

"Alright, nerd, answer my question," the professor said, a hint of irritation in their voice. "Is Zeus a villain or a flawed hero?" they asked Y/N.

"The answer is neither simple nor mutually exclusive," Y/N began, her voice steady. "Zeus exhibits traits of both. He's a complex figure, driven by ambition and desire, capable of both great benevolence and terrible cruelty. He’s a product of his time, reflecting the values and contradictions of the ancient Greek pantheon."

"That's a vague, textbook answer," the professor scoffed. "Give me a concrete stance. Is he good or bad?"

"To reduce a figure of such complexity to a binary of 'good' or 'bad' is a disservice to the nuances of mythology," Y/N replied, her tone unwavering.

"He's a flawed hero in his victories against the Titans, but a villain in his tyrannical rule and numerous betrayals. His actions must be contextualized within the social and cultural framework of ancient Greece."

"Contextualized?" the professor retorted, their face flushing. "We're not debating philosophy here. I asked a simple question, and you're giving me a lecture. Are you trying to embarrass me?"

"I am merely providing a comprehensive analysis of the subject matter, sir," Y/N said, her expression unchanged. "To assert a definitive answer would be to ignore the inherent ambiguities within the myths."

"Ambiguities? You're just being difficult!" the professor snapped. "You think you're so smart, don't you? Trying to show me up in front of the class."

"My intention is not to 'show you up,' sir, but to engage in a meaningful academic discussion," Y/N replied, her voice calm despite the rising tension.

"If you prefer a simplistic answer, Zeus could be considered a flawed hero with villainous tendencies, depending on the specific myth being examined. However, such a reduction fails to capture the intricate tapestry of his character."

The professor, visibly flustered, sputtered, "That's still not a straight answer! Just sit down, you're wasting everyone's time."

They turned away, muttering about "know-it-all students," while Y/N calmly returned to her book, the class watching with a mixture of awe and nervous anticipation.

Cafeteria

“Hey, Y/N, you were amazing! I didn't know you had the guts to answer the professor like that,” Chaewon gushed, trailing Y/N as they navigated the cafeteria line. Despite Y/N's attempts to maintain a semblance of solitude, Chaewon's persistent chatter filled the air, leaving Y/N with no choice but to endure her company.

“I simply answered the question,” Y/N replied, her tone clipped, as she paid the cashier. As they searched for an unoccupied table, a sudden impact struck Y/N’s head, sending her tray crashing to the floor, spilling biscuits and water.

“Oops, sorry, nerd!” a voice taunted, followed by a wave of derisive laughter. Y/N, unfazed, retrieved the water bottle and reached for the scattered biscuits, only for a foot to stomp on them.

“Oops, sorry again,” the same voice drawled.

“Yah, Felix!” A sharp cry echoed through the cafeteria, drawing everyone's attention. Felix, the perpetrator, offered a smug grin.

“Hi, Karina, you look beautiful,” he purred, his nostrils flaring.

A collective gasp filled the air as Karina launched a swift kick, sending Felix sprawling to his knees. She grabbed his hair, her eyes blazing.

“Try to bully my sister again, and I’ll ensure you don’t graduate, got it?” she hissed, her voice laced with a deadly promise.

Felix nodded frantically, his face contorted in fear. The students watched in stunned silence, realizing the mysterious, reserved Y/N was the sister of the popular and vivacious Karina, a stark contrast in personalities.

Karina, releasing Felix, stormed out of the cafeteria. Y/N, having located an empty table, sat down. Chaewon, still reeling from the scene, followed. “You know you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N stated calmly. Karina pouted.

“I just saved you, little sister.”

“Thanks, but I can handle myself,” Y/N replied, her tone dismissive. Karina shook her head, disbelieving, until her eyes landed on Chaewon. “Hi! What’s your name?”

“Chaewon Kim, Y/N’s new best friend!” Chaewon chirped enthusiastically.

“She’s lying,” Y/N interjected, picking at a shard of biscuit. Karina confiscated the broken biscuit and replaced it with a lunchbox. “Eat this, it’s your favorite dish. I made it,” she said proudly.

“That’s even more reason not to eat it,” Y/N retorted, attempting to reclaim her biscuit.

“I asked Mom to help! Please, accept my effort,” Karina pleaded, her eyes wide and imploring, which prompted Y/N to utter a rare curse.

“Stop with the puppy eyes, damn it! Give me the spoon,” Y/N demanded. Karina clapped her hands, her face lighting up, drawing further bewildered glances from the cafeteria crowd.

"See? She does have a personality!" Karina exclaimed to Chaewon. "She just saves it for her favorite sister," she added with a wink.

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wakingfromthewater · 25 days ago

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BTW I read Pride Puppy because Neil Gorsuch lied about what's in it from the bench and can categorically state that what it is is an awesome ABC book. There's a narrative about a family going to Pride and their dog getting lost (and then getting found again!) but every page is also a tableau featuring a different letter of the alphabet. So for example on the second page where the family is having breakfast in their kitchen there are lots of things that start with the letter B – books, boots, a bowl, berries, bread, backpack, (teddy) bear, bananas, (hair) brush, bone (for the doggie!), etc etc. I was also really surprised at how much was packed into every illustration – every time I thought I'd found everything with the letter, I saw something more. This is a great way for kids to start learning letter sounds and also much more engaging for both kids and parents than just doing "A is for Apple, B is for Button..." Also when you hear the right wing claim this book has the word bear in it – yeah, it's a teddy bear. There is an adult wearing a leather jacket on the L page, but contrary to the lies told from the bench of the Supreme Court there are no nipple clamps on the C page.

#also writing this post made me remember that my grandmother taught me a joke ABCs that included L for Leather (hell for leather)#unfortunately I only remember about half the letters

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scoonsalicious · 1 year ago

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7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place.

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger.

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich.

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things?

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.”

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement.

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings.

And shit, you believed him.

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin.

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname.

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans.

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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uthseikoashx-goingmyway · 5 months ago

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HELP FOR MY MASTER’S THESIS: Hannibal fics recs?

hello everyone! :)

for my master’s degree in literature, i study artistic representation in fanfiction, especially in Hannibal (TV) fanfiction. my corpus features every fic published on AO3 that fall under the following tags: “Museum”, “Art”, “Painting”, “Religious Imagery & Symbolism”, from 2013 to june 2024. the aim is to find enough passages to build an interesting corpus of works to compare these texts.

BUT, obviously, there are a lot of artistic depiction in fanfictions that are not tagged and thus not in my corpus yet. this is where and why i am calling for help. do you know any fic in which some artistic reference impacted you?

i am searching in the Hannibal (TV) fandom but it may be of any rating, finished or not, etc etc.

IF you know a piece of fic that is NOT Hannibal-related but would be very interesting to work on (a classic in the fandom? a particulary well-crafted piece? a perfect representation of what appears when you mix fanfiction and art?), i’ll take it, as it may be something worth comparing to my main corpus.

it has NOT to be in english and it can be a translation! EVERY LANGUAGE is good to go! plus encore qu’aux autres, je m’adresse à VOUS, fellow francophones :)

it may be a few lines, whole paragraphs, or an entire fic about it, as long as it references either what we consider artistic (vague remarks on painting, tableaus, sculpture… even in a non-artistic context — treating Hannibal’s tableaus as painting, or Will being described like a Antique sculpture counts — i'm taking these examples as i know it exists in the fandom) or a specific work (a painting in particular : descriptions, etc).

i am especially curious about works featuring these passages that aren’t tagged with the previous tags; but honestly, i would gladly appreciate some recommendations tagged “Religious Imagery & Symbolism” or something i already mentionned, as it may help me to navigate the hundred of fics i currently have downloaded on my computer (lmao).

feel free to mention AO3 locked fics as well as fics that are not on AO3 (that would be very much helpful).

and, of course, you can refer to your own work!

to sum it up: have you any recs of Hannibal (TV) fics recs that include a moment about art / paintings / something treated as art even though it is traditionally not considered as such / etc?

thank you in advance, especially to those who answer and/or share this — and most of all, thanks to everyone who contributes to the fandom by writing, creating and reading <3

#hoping that nobody in my master's degree will find my account :)#hannibal nbc #hannibal #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #hannigram fic #hannibal fic #hannibal fandom #marlana #marlana fanfiction #marlana fic #fic recs #hannibal fic recs #hannibal fr #hannibal nbc fr

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crazy-hanji · 2 months ago

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Gustave = Verso

Je me demande si Gustave dans le tableau est pas la création de Maelle/Alicia . Car je trouve que le Verso du monde réel est similaire à Gustave. On devrait dire que c'est Gustave qui lui ressemble même forme de visage trait et cheveulure similaire .Portant le même genre de costume

Après c'est commun pour l'époque mais la même coupe . Et faudrait expliquer aussi ce qui est arriver au bras de Gustave ... C'est pour cela que je suis assez ravie que les développeur sont pas fermer à l'idée de faire des DLC qui pourrait expliquer ce qui s'est passé dans la famille Dessendre avant leurs chutes ( l'incendie ) Ou expliquer comment Gustave a eut son bras

I wonder if Gustave in the painting is not Maelle/Alicia's creation. Because I find that the Verso of the real world is similar to Gustave. We should say that it is Gustave who looks like him, same face shape, similar features and hair. Wearing the same kind of costume.

After that it's common for the time but the same cut. And it would also be necessary to explain what happened to Gustave's arm... That's why I'm quite delighted that the developers are not closed to the idea of making DLC that could explain what happened in the Dessendre family before their fall (the fire) Or explain how Gustave got his arm

#clair obscur: expedition 33 #theory #théorie #Gustave clair obscur: expedition 33 #Verso #verso dessendre #Verso clair obscur: expedition 33 #Alicia Dessendre #Maelle/Alicia #Maelle clair obscur: expedition 33

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ninibeingdelulu · 1 year ago

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Seeing you comforting a child…

ft. leon kennedy, cloud strife

Leon Kennedy would never dare admit it openly, but the stoic, badass exterior melted away ever so slightly at the sight of you tenderly comforting a lost child.

That time in the ransacked village, when the haunting wails of a youngster pierced the air amidst the carnage - Leon instinctively tensed, jaw setting grimly as his grip tightened on his rifle.

But then he spotted you already racing ahead unhesitatingly. Dropping to one knee, arms outstretched in a gentle beckoning posture as the little one startled then sprinted straight into your protective embrace.

Your soothing tones murmured comforting assurances while cradling their trembling form close against you. Fingers carding soothingly through tangled hair with the utmost tender care.

And Leon couldn't tear his widened eyes away from the tenderhearted display. Throat constricting over the unexpected lump suddenly materializing there.

That million-watt smile radiating from your features as you rocked them patiently until whimpering quieted was like the first vibrant blossom peeking through the ash after a nuclear winter.

An oasis of affectionate nurturing shining through the oppressive bleakness suffocating them both for far too painfully long.

Leon found his calloused finger-pads unconsciously drifting up to caress his own chapped lips as if wishing to physically absorb the tranquil serenity you effortlessly exuded.

Eyelids momentarily fluttering closed while permitting himself to just bask in the warmth emanating from your very presence like a soothing balm against all the harrowing darkness poisoning them both.

A tremulous sigh escaped between those parted lips as the barest ghost of a smile tugged at their corners for the first time in...Christ, had it really been years since he last felt anything even remotely resembling that fleeting glimmer of unguarded optimism blossoming in his chest?

The peaceful tableau you presented with the now-placid child tucked securely in your arms struck Leon deeper than any physical combat wound ever could.

Worming past every steel-plated layer of defenses, countermeasures and failsafes, straight down into the most vulnerable core of his humanity he'd sworn died an agonizing death ages ago.

It terrified yet entranced him in equal measure just drinking in the serene display. Eventually those narrowed steel-blue irises regained some of their piercing guardedness while surreptitiously cataloging every nuance etched upon your expressions and ministrations.

As if desperately searing the moment into his consciousness to be revisited and clung onto later through whatever hell awaited them next.

Thank Christ for your influence and the inexplicable balm it provided against the miasma of torment clouding Leon's withered soul more with every passing abyss they navigated together...

The uncompromising mask remained solidly affixed in place by the time you finally lifted your eyes to meet his guarded gaze, the child nestled peacefully into the crook of your neck.

Not a single flicker of that momentary softness penetrated the hauntingly chiseled granite of his features now.

Yet behind that shuttered and fortified thousand-yard stare, the barest ember pulsed with renewed tenacity suffusing Leon's frigid disposition with almost undetectable glimmers of warmth.

All because of your natural radiance and selfless compassion reminding him why they fought on through each grueling gauntlet.

Sure he'd never verbalize sentiments that unbearably raw and guileless aloud. But that infinitesimal spark continuing to miraculously smolder despite all efforts to smother it was enough to propel them onward through any escalating onslaught yet to come.

This time with a renewed fervor steeling Leon's adamantine determination from the inside out.

The desolate, mako-tainted wastes proved no place for a child's cries. Yet the haunting echoes still pierced straight through Cloud's calloused defenses when tiny lungs unleashed their heartrending wails upon the barren landscape.

His gloved grip instinctively clenched tighter around the battered Buster Sword's hilt, jaw tensing as those predatory ice-blue irises immediately snapped towards the source of the disturbance.

Fully prepared for whatever fresh horror emerged after the merc caught fleeting movement through his peripherals.

But the cautious sweep revealed only your slender form already hastening ahead. Moving with fluid grace directly towards the sobbing bundle tucked against a crumbling wall.

His firm chapped lips tightened into a grim line witnessing you unhesitatingly drop to one knee before the distressed child without any apparent armaments at the ready.

From this distance, Cloud glimpsed your gentle features soften with bottomless compassion wholly separate from the usual battlefield ferocity.

Small hands unfurled in placating gestures exuding profound warmth and sincerity instantly easing some of the fractures riddling his own battered soul simply by proximity.

While you deftly coaxed the tiny thing into your embrace with susurrant tones and infinitely patient ministrations, Cloud suddenly found himself robbed of breath altogether.

Those glacial spheres wide and stunned at the exquisitely tender vision you presented cradling their fragility so reverently. A profound ache lodged behind his breastbone at the maternal aura emanating from your whole being.

He swallowed convulsively over the sandpaper abrasions rasping along his windpipe.

Gloved fingers betraying the slightest tremor disturbing his usual uncompromising stoicism while still drinking in every indelible detail of the intimate scene unraveling.

From the tender flickering caresses smoothed across tangled russet locks to your honeyed vocals humming soothing melodies of consolation.

All suffusing the stale, mako-saturated atmosphere with vibrant healing essences Cloud found himself instinctively gravitating closer towards.

Feather-light brushes scritched lovingly along the whimpering child's back forming hypnotic ellipses mirroring your unguarded smile radiating all-encompassing warmth across those cherubic cheeks now drenched in tear tracks.

Until finally after an eternity, the miniature form stilled in your arms. Body unlocking from its terrified rigor mortis into the very picture of youthful tranquility tucked securely against your heartbeat.

Cloud hadn't even realized he'd been holding his own respiration captive until the soft sigh expelled in a shuddering rush between lax lips.

A full-bodied flinch rattled his broad shoulders at its sudden harsh volume intruding upon the sacred tableau before him.

But thankfully, your features remained beautifully serene, wholly undisturbed while continuing to rock the now-quieted bundle in gentle rhythms.

Only then did molten sapphire pools drift up to lock with his widened stare burning with intensity across the slender lacuna separating you. A tremor not wholly attributable to anxiety skittered down his whip-cord musculature watching your radiant smile intensify directed solely towards Cloud.

As if silently communicating your infinite gratitude for him bearing witness to such an intimate and precious moment blossoming in this scorched hellscape...

Whatever parched recesses comprising the haunted mercenary's core still retained the capacity for absorbing nurturing warmth - it suddenly flooded within the confines of his barrel chest when those infinitely compassionate irises shone their benediction upon him.

Unknotting every rigid sinew and ligament hardened into a battle-tempered carapace purely through the power of your tender, life-affirming essence.

Almost imperceptibly, Cloud's chapped lips softened around the faintest half-curved suggestions budding there.

Posture unconsciously opening to welcome your pure light into his long-shadowed world while holding your loving gaze in mesmerized thrall.

As if determined to thoroughly archive this oasis of serenity and unconditional love in his consciousness so it may fortify whatever grueling battles destiny demanded they wage next.

Then in a single blink and a slight dip of your chin, the spell abruptly dissolved back into hyper-vigilance.

Yet even with the mercenary's legendary ice reformed across those exquisite Nordic features, perpetually braced for the next onslaught - a spark continued flickering in the hooded caverns of his stare.

A faint ember of something intangible yet transcendent now eternally kindled behind his armored exterior.

All because you'd reminded Cloud one of his most precious intangible dreams had been manifested into cherished reality...even under the most desolate conditions.

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