I Just Love Art

ugh, fineeeeee *opens incognito tab*

no but really, HOLY SHIT ‼️

Hands - Silco x F!Reader

Notes: This is one of the filthiest things I have ever written. it is pure porn, and I fully had to walk away from it twice to calm myself down. I didn't describe Silco in any detail here, so you can easily imagine it as both young and old. Please read the warnings carefully before reading. This genuinely uses the word hand 25 times, and finger 38 times 😳 Warnings/Rating: MDNI, porn without plot, smut, sub!reader / dom!Silco, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, crying, gagging, begging, pet names, female anatomy, swearing, fingering, finger sucking, praise | 18+ ONLYWordcount: 2.9k Synopsis/Request: Erm... Can you do silco x reader with a SUPER big hand fetish

Masterlist | Dialogue Prompt list

“You seem awfully distracted today, is everything okay?” Silco’s voice was low and gravelly as he purred in your ear. You jumped as he pulled you out of your daze, acutely aware of the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear, but your mind was focused on the feeling of his slender fingers splayed out across your lower back as he pressed himself closer to you, keeping your conversation away from prying ears. 

You couldn’t do anything except nod, a tight ‘mh-hmm’ forcing itself from behind your tightly pressed together lips. You attempted a smile, but you knew he could see right through you when it came across more flustered than content. 

He exhaled a faint laugh, barely more than a scoff as his lips curled up into a cruel smirk, “I think you’re lying…” he drawled, lips brushing dangerously against the shell of your ear this time, dragging his lower lip along the edge of the cartilage just slightly, but enough to have your breath hitching in your throat. His arm had wrapped around you now, leaving a trail of fire across your skin as he squeezed at the flesh of your hip. 

You swallowed roughly, fighting back a shudder as you closed your eyes, trying to remain upright. He was right, of course. He had been busy working all day, writing and smoking, leaving you nothing to do but lounge nearby and watch him. More specifically, watching his hands as his lithe fingers curled around his pen or his smoke, twirling them when he was deep in thought, tapping against the desk when he grew frustrated, reaching to his mouth as he licked his middle digit before turning a page… 

You were, in a word, frustrated. And that was putting it lightly. Everytime his tongue darted out to wet the pad had you shifting in your seat, trying to find some friction against your clit using the seam of your underwear, skin burning every time you moved and realised how soaked you were, glancing at the clock and praying the minutes would tick by quicker and he would be done for the day. You had learned in the few months you had dated him that he was not a man who appreciated distractions, no matter how desperately you wanted to sink down on those pale digits, worshipping each one.

“Are you going to put me out of my misery and tell me?” he mused, his voice light and teasing as he flicked his eyes over your body slowly, wetting his lips as he reached your face again. 

You felt your skin go hot as his spare hand came up to clasp your chin, tilting your head slightly to look at him. Your eyes instinctively flicked down to it, struggling to see his fingers in the edges of your vision, but feeling the callus on his thumb against your lower lip as he parted them for you. You tried to pull away gently, but he tightened his grip just enough to keep you still, “Don’t hide from me now, love. Don’t pretend you haven’t been fidgeting in your chair all day waiting for me.” His know-it-all smirk made you want to roll your eyes, but you knew better than that. 

Your eyes flicked down to his hands again the best they could, not trusting your voice as your heart sped up in your chest and your breathing along with it. 

His eyes followed yours before widening, the smirk dropping from his face as he put two and two together. 

“My, my,” he started, swallowing thickly as he brushed his thumb over your lip, the rough tip pushing past just enough to catch your teeth, “who would have thought my hands were enough to get you going, love.” You would have dissolved in your own embarrassment had his playful grin not lit up his face again. “Tell me, is that what you were watching so intently today?” 

You nodded pathetically, pressing your chin down into his hand as you did so, the hand on your hip tightening its grip. His thumb left your lip, dragging it down and letting it flick back up as you watched him intently, breath coming out in deep pants as he pressed it to his own lips, sucking your saliva off before rolling his tongue over his lip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he murmured before removing his body from yours completely, tapping you quickly on the arse. “Off you go,” he gestured with his head in the general direction of the stairs towards your bedroom and you gulped, brain taking a moment to catch up to what was happening before you scurried at an almost embarrassing pace towards it. 

It felt like an eternity until he joined you, having already shrugged off his vest and undone the top few buttons of his shirt as he pushed the bedroom door closed behind him, rolling his sleeves up halfway up his arms. 

He chuckled when he saw you scramble to your knees at the edge of the bed as he approached you, your mind already a hazy fog as you took him in, watching his fingers fold the fabric precisely around his forearms. 

“Gods, you really are a slut for my fingers, aren’t you?” He taunted, unable to drop his smirk. 

“Don’t tease,” you whined, embarrassment rising in your chest like bile. He shushed you, hand once again coming to cup your jaw, 

“I would never,” he said sincerely, eyes locking with yours so you knew he was serious. “I am just surprised you kept it to yourself for so long. I feel bad for depriving you of them,” his cocky grin was back almost as soon as it had disappeared, laughing softly as you whined, so receptive to his touch already. “How about I fix that, hm?” he asked and you nodded, a little more desperately than you meant to. “Words, dove,” he prompted, the glint of seriousness in his eyes again. 

“Yes, please,” you begged breathily, shutting your eyes against the feeling of his hands raking softly through your hair, pulling the loose strands from your face. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

You swallowed thickly, your voice coming out as a stutter, “Wanna suck on them, please…” your voice was little more than a whisper. It was Silco’s turn to flush, lips parting with a soft gasp, the mere thought of it going straight to his cock, stirring it in his already tight pants. 

He brought his fingers up to your lips again slowly, tracing the pads over your waiting lips slowly for a second, “well then, be my guest,” he purred and you instantly accepted his invitation, pulling his first two fingers into your mouth to his knuckles, pressing your warm tongue to the pads as you closed your lips around them and suckled experimentally, sighing as you did so. His eyes were blown wide, irises near black, as he watched you, knelt in front of him as you pulled back and bobbed your head back down again, eyes fluttering shut as you focused, one of your hands pressed to the mattress between your knees for balance and the other grasping his thin wrist for leverage. 

After a few shallow movements, you opened your eyes again, locking onto his as you took his digits to the back of your throat, gagging just a little as clipped nails hit the back wall, lips around his first knuckle and holding them for a moment before sliding back, sucking all the while and filling the air with the wet sounds of your saliva. 

“Holy shit,” Silco gasped as you lost yourself in the movements, your mouth growing wetter each time you took his fingers all the way in, your spit starting to dribble down the palm of his hand as your lips pursed around him, growing puffy with each subsequent motion. His spare hand came down to his trousers, flicking at the button to try and relieve some of the tension as he watched you, enthralled. The warm wetness and roughness of your tongue as you pressed his fingers to the roof of your mouth made him wish it was his cock between those pretty lips of yours. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard his zip and you smirked as best you could around his digits, suddenly far more confident once you saw the evidence he was just as into it all as you were. 

You groaned in protest as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, the tips lingering on your lower lip as he took you in as you drooled slightly before letting your lip flick up again and removing his wrist from your hold. 

Suddenly moving a lot quicker, he surged forward, lips crushing against yours hungrily and wasting no time parting them to press his tongue against yours, allowing you to suck on it softly and pulling a groan from his throat. His hand, still wet with your saliva wrapped around your throat experimentally, not squeezing, but holding you in place against him as he eased you back down onto the bed, knee coming between yours as he crawled over you. 

The feeling of his fingers against your skin, fingertips pressed into your pulsepoint, made you dizzy and he hadn’t even applied pressure. His fingers were warm from your mouth and sticky against the skin, splayed out to cover your whole throat, allowing you to focus on the feeling of them as he rolled his tongue over yours, kissing you frantically, like a man starved. 

You pressed your head back as he fingers dragged away from the skin, trying to press back into his touch as if you might fade away when he wasn’t touching you, and he snickered, hands working quickly to free you from your shirt, tugging his own over his head, not bothering with the rest of the buttons as his lips reattached themselves to your body, trailing searing hot kisses across and down the exposed skin, a trail of his own saliva glistening lightly in the dim bedroom light. 

His hands likewise trailed down your sides, digging is nails in just enough to raise the skin, forcing you to arch into his touch, “Silco,” your voice was more of a exhale as he dragged them tantalisingly slowly down to your hips before tightening his grip, pressing you to the bed and holding you still as his lips ghosted over your waist band. The delicate muscles flexed, the veins running across the back of his hands popping as his heart thumped in his chest.

He looked up at you briefly from between your legs, watching for your fervent nod before he slowly worked the button undone, allowing you to watch as his practised fingers pinched at the fabric and then pulled at the zip. He laughed lightly as you lifted your hips impatiently, eyes fixated on where his tendons flexed beneath the skin with the light effort of pulling the fabric down your legs, taking your frankly ruined underwear with them. 

He was always one for foreplay, usually coaxing at least one orgasm out of you before satisfying himself, but this felt different. 

You whined, gyrating your hips against nothing as you grew impatient under his lustful stare, “Sil…” you whined, huffing as he chucked. 

“Let’s see how much you really like these hands of mine,” he breathed before dragging the tip of his middle finger up your folds, barely parting them, but he could already feel how wet you were. Hours of watching him paired with his teasing was enough to have you a mess, dripping as if you had already cum. “My, my…” he breathed, fanning over you and making you squirm at the sudden coolness. 

He watched, mesmerized, as his fingers parted your folds at last, running just either side of your clit, less to tease you, and more to admire your mess before he finally brushed the pads of his thumb over your clit, rolling it gently back and forth as you shuddered beneath him. 

“Sit up,” he ordered, a sly look crossing his face, pausing his actions momentarily, pulling away from you.  

“Wh-what?” you breathed, looking at him confused but obliging anyway, leaning against your arms and cocking your head as he stood, settling his weight behind you and pulling you gently back by the shoulders, pressing your back against his chest and caging you between his legs. His arms wrapped around you again, fingers resting on your inner thighs. 

“You like my hands?” he smirked, fingers toying with your slit again softly, waiting for you to nod, biting your lip between your teeth as he teased you, “then watch them ruin you.” You gasped, eyes shooting open again as he finally put pressure against your clit, rolling in sudden, tight circles that had you moaning against him. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, head dropping so your head back so it rested against his shoulder at the long delayed pleasure, only for him to stop again. 

You opened your eyes again with a frustrated pant, turning to try and look at him only to see him raise an eyebrow at you. “I said, watch,” he repeated, restarting his movements slowly as you swallowed, eyes flicking back down to where his hand met the apex of your thighs. 

“Good pet,” his lips quirked up into a smirk as you shuddered. His fingers dipped down to your entrance, middle digits pressing against your entrance just enough to slip past, gathering more of your wetness just to retract them, spreading it  up and over your clit again. 

You were hyperfocused on the shining slick that coated them, stringing between each knuckle as he parted them in a display for you, before dipping them back down again, pressing more urgently this time and slipping into you with no resistance, the fingers either side pressing into your skin. Your jaw dropped with a low groan as you watched them disappear into you, the palm of his slender hand coming to cup your sex as he stilled inside you. He flicked his fingers experimentally, pressing them against your front wall and rolling them slowly yet roughly in ‘come-hither’ motions, pulling the breath from your lungs in desperate pants as he brushed time and time again over your spongy spot, only to pull them out again, leaving just the tips against your hole, giving you good time to watch them sink back in slowly, your lips swallowing them. You swore you could have cum from the visual alone, the sound of your slick wetness reverberating around your bedroom. 

Pulling his fingers from you again, he lifted them to your parted lips, pressing them against your tongue and encouraging you to suck, eagerly wrapping your lips around the digits again and bobbing your head quickly, groaning sinfully as his other hand continued to toy with your clit, flat fingers slapping the bundle of nerves and sending shocks of pleasure through your system, hips bucking wildly as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. 

Your tongue rolled around his fingers again, tears stinging the corner of your eyes as he pushed them to the back of your throat as he slid into you again, fighting to keep your eyes open as he pumped his fingers into you, your vision blurring as you clenched around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close around his wrist. 

“Ah ah,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth, wrapping his hand around one of your thighs and holding it open, wet fingers digging into the muscle, allowing his other wrist to move freely as he sped up his movements, adding a third finger as you mewled, your own hands gripping at his legs either side of your waist. “You have to be good for me, or I take them away,” he threatened lowly. 

His hand moved from your thigh and ghosted over your clit, his other hand stilling and resuming the rough strokes against your front wall, fighting against them as they clenched with a force that threatened to push them out. 

“Oh fuuuuck,” you drawled, your brain turning to mush but unable to tear your eyes away as his began rough circles on your clit, the flat pads of his fingers rubbing messily from side to side with no precise rhythm. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he purred, lips attaching to your earlobe and sucking it between his teeth, his fingers not slowing as you bucked against him, forcing your eyes to stay open, jaw slack as as his fingers pulled you to the edge, the tight spring in your stomach snapping as you came, shuddering against him and gripping at his wrists as you rode out your high, fucking yourself on his fingers as you pulsed around them, gripping at his wrists. You were vaguely aware of his voice, cooing pet names in your ear as you whimpered at the overstimulation, his fingers continuing their assault on your pussy and drawing the feeling out, but the rush of your blood and your pounding heartbeat made it difficult to hear him. 

“Sil- I-” you gasped, hips trying to writhe away from his touch, only to be trapped against him, forcing you to watch his fingers through tear-blurred eyes as he quickly pulled you right into another high, this time shattering through you and forcing you to cry out. 

Your walls clenched around nothing as he withdrew his fingers, other hand still circling your clit as you squirmed, pushing his now spare hand, soaked with your slick, against your lips again, pressing down on your tongue and muffling your sobs as he brought you down from the edge slowly. The fingers on your clit coming to a slow stop, but still resting their weight against you as you continued to spasm, eyes finally closing with exhaustion as you slumped against him. 

“You did so good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple and slowly withdrawing his fingers from you mouth, sniggering when you suckled on them and whined at the loss of contact. 

[AN: I love how much the tone of this changes when you imagine it with older Silco vs younger Silco. Older Silco is so self-assured and dominant, loving to take you apart just to fell the power over you, while younger Silco is so cocky and eager to please 🤤 urgh and imagining younger Silco's hair falling into his face while he's working you? urghhh]

I'm so deeply in love with this I never want this fic to end

I Knew Nothing But Shadows pt. 10

Chapter 10: Some Part Of Me Stayed Alive

CLICK HERE TO READ :)

Story Summary:

Curious circumstances and a questionable curse from your childhood led you to becoming the resident artist of the local Satanic Church – and a sinister night you’d truly rather forget. Years later, you’re presented with another chance at proving your artistic worth. Only this time, you’re kind of falling for the awkward anti-pope who sits for you and he is oddly interested in the intricacies of your past that you’re so desperately trying to hide. (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary:

Your quiet morning gets interrupted but that doesn’t stop you from making the best of the afternoon. Meanwhile, we learn more about your past.

Chapter Content: 12k words, spice!!! (thigh riding, hand job, they're getting frisky okay), a tiny bit of angst, lots of cuteness

SIDE NOTE: If you want to be tagged in chapters in the future pls let me know!! :)

Note that I switched the layout again because I figured from now on the chapter summaries might be too spoiler-y for people who have not caught up yet or maybe you just want to go in blind.

"la venida de cristo" (the cumming of christ)

paintings by fabián chairez (mexico, born 1987) also available as a postcard set

his exhibition in mexico city is currently being targeted by extremist religious groups and christian groups are trying to sue him (X) for his work so i thought i would show all of tumblr

Looks Like We Made It

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Bucky ponders whether your paths were always meant to cross, if fate was what brought you together. You offer a different perspective.

Warnings: Bucky’s POV, established relationship, fluff, flirting, sexual innuendos (no smut).

Author’s Note: Divider by @saradika-graphics

I’m back with a Bucky fic!! Finally 🥹 this instalment is part of the Love In The Woods Collection ❄️, but can absolutely be read as a standalone 🤍 hope you enjoy, friends x

Bucky loved to reminisce. 

And it wasn’t in favour of gone days or that he didn’t enjoy the present — because Bucky couldn’t adore living in the moment more if he tried. 

Rather, he held a fondness of the journey the two of you had taken over the years; how life played its funny little tricks to make sure everything turned out as it should. 

Bucky wasn’t a believer of God, didn’t hold much faith in destiny or fate or a path already paved by a higher power. 

But holy fuck when he looked at you, it was impossible to imagine that there wasn’t any kind of influence to your souls finding each other and intertwining for eternity. 

Either that, or he was a lucky man. 

The thought ricocheted in his mind as he watched you from the bar, dancing to an old 80’s song. Your moves were sloppy and you were singing the lyrics all wrong. Yet, you threw your head back and laughed without a care in the world and for a countless time, Bucky was blessed with the avid reminder of just how much he loved you. 

Of course, he was always aware of his affections. There wasn’t a day that went by where Bucky questioned himself. But in certain moments, when the full measure of his feelings came rushing in all at once, he’s knocked off kilter once more and suddenly his love for you is so overwhelming that it’s hard for him to breathe. 

Magic was laced in everything you did. From how you greeted your friends with pure happiness no matter how often you saw them to the way you sat by the fireplace, swaddled in the masses of blankets you owned, and hummed in bliss at the taste of your homemade hot chocolate. 

It was simply extraordinary and Bucky couldn’t picture a better way to describe you; there was no one else who could make the mundane feel ethereal. 

Bucky’s life may have been simple. But it was yours and his. There was nothing more remarkable than that. 

Natasha knocked against the wood of the bar, gently pulling Bucky from his stupor. “Gonna gawk at your girl all night, Barnes, or are you planning on joining her any time soon?” 

“Wife.” He corrected instantly, though his tone held no animosity, only awe. “She’s my wife, Nat.” 

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head with a grin as she refilled Bucky’s glass. “And doesn’t everyone and their mother know it.” 

Shrugging, Bucky lifted his drink to his mouth and sipped, the whiskey smoothly burning his throat. “You look at her and tell me that I shouldn’t shout it from the damn mountain tops.” 

She did so, glancing over at you with a fond smile. “Then you’re a wise man, Barnes.” 

“Maybe.” His eyes gravitated over to you. He had already looked away for too long for his own liking. “Or I’m just a really lucky fool.” 

It was that moment your gazes locked from across the room. The music played on, the patrons of the bar continued their conversations. However, the world stopped spinning on its axis for Bucky and he wasted no time in taking advantage of the little pocket of time spared for the two of you. 

Parrying his way through the sea of bodies, Bucky made his way towards you, gaze never straying, focus never drifting. He reached you by the vintage jukebox and instantly weaved his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, there,” you grinned, snaking your hands around his neck. Bucky shivered. “I was wondering when you were gonna come over.” 

Bucky bumped his nose against yours. “‘M sorry, baby. Wanted to sit back and watch you for a little while.”

“You’re forgiven.” You teased your lips over his, whispering your wicked hymns against his mouth. “It’s hard to be annoyed at you when you look this good.” 

“That right?” Your outward appreciation of him never failed to fill him with a smug confidence. Compliments from you made him feel like he was on top of the world. “The jacket workin’ for you is it, Dolly?” 

You looked up at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips. “Sure is, handsome. I wonder whether it’ll work for you tonight when it’s the only thing I have on.” 

All the blood in Bucky’s body rushed down to his lower region, hardening his cock in his jeans and weakening his knees.

He groaned, deep and raw. “Fuck—You sure know how to kill a man.” 

Creating a gun with your fingers, you pointed the barrel against Bucky’s chest and mimed a gunshot to the heart. He couldn’t help how his heart stuttered as you winked and whispered a soft boom. “I’m dangerous for the heart, Bear. Haven’t you heard?” 

That you were. “You’re the talk of the town, sweetheart. But I want you anyway.” 

And suddenly, the heated lust dialed down to a tender intimacy. Something only lovers could appreciate. “Very smooth.” 

Bucky began to guide you into a gentle sway, hugging you tighter until any space between you was diminished. “I aim to please, Wife.” 

The name rolled off his tongue so easily. He wasn’t ashamed to say he called you by it as often as he could. It could have been interpreted as a sense of ownership to others. But those who knew the two of you understood that Bucky just couldn’t get enough of reminding himself — and everyone else — that you had married him. 

A true pinch me moment. 

If your smile was anything to go by, you savoured it just as much. “You like saying that, don’t you?” 

Bucky beamed. “All the damn time, you have no idea.” 

You kissed him. A slow, drawn out peck that swallowed his stomach whole like a blizzard. He wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to that feeling; how you continued to steal his heart years on. 

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” Bucky confessed, eyes closed with his forehead resting against yours.  

Your brows furrowed and you let out a shocked laugh. “What are you talking about, silly? Does the cabin or the ring not seal the deal enough for you?”

“‘Course it does, Dolly.” As if anything could hold a candle to the pillars of bliss that was your story. “It just doesn’t feel real sometimes, y’know? Like surely someone as amazing as you can’t have come into my life without circumstance. Someone must’ve been having a good day when they made you my soulmate.” 

“Are you drunk, Bear?” You giggled. 

“No, darlin’.” Bucky may not have been drunk, but you sure did make him feel like it. “Just wanted to let you know how much I love you.” 

You fell quiet as you slightly backed away. Eyes turned inquisitive, you observed him and Bucky felt more naked than ever. For once, he was clueless to what you were thinking and the unease had him desiring his long forgotten whiskey. 

You finally settled his nerves. “Can I ask you something, sweetie?”  

Bucky swallowed the dryness of his throat. “Anything.”

“Have you ever considered that there’s no other reason as to why I fell in love with you other than that I like you?” 

Frowning, Bucky voiced his bemusement. “Well, I would like to think so.”

You shook your head fondly. “As a person; your personality, your humour. You’re kind and sweet and thoughtful. You're not too bad on the eyes either.” Fingers tangling into the roots of his hair, you coyly pulled before soothing the sting. Your attempt at some lightheartedness before you resumed. “I enjoy spending my time with you, Bear. None of those are miraculous things. You are just you, that’s what love is.”

Though Bucky recognised you were trying to make a point, the pinnacle of your moment wasn’t reaching him. He was silent, struggling to connect the dots in his head. 

You sighed softly. “Believe it or not, I don’t need you, Bucky.” 

The revelation was one he hadn’t expected and for a minute his stomach pitted. Pouting, Bucky attempted to mask his slight hurt. “Ouch.” 

“Oh, stop it. I’m not finished, you big lug.” You smacked his chest playfully. “What I mean is that I’ll never need to rely on you to make me happy. It implies that I have no autonomy and I stay for all the wrong reasons. I’m not some estranged princess, whose only purpose it is to find a prince to save them. I’ve lived a life without you and I was content. But it’s because of you that life is much more fulfilling and it’s because of you that I spend every waking moment thankful that we met.” 

A spark of peace brightened Bucky’s eyes, the bigger picture finally revealing itself and your message becoming clear. You must have caught the subtle undertones of his relief as your lips curved into a smile. 

“I choose to love you, Bucky. I choose to be by your side every single day for the rest of our lives. And I think that’s a lot more meaningful than the idea that some greater good already decided our fate. Instead, out of any other choices we could’ve made, we chose each other.”  

You were right. You were so completely right that Bucky cursed himself for not comprehending it for himself. Because of course, what was better than the act of fortifying a bond so strong that you didn’t have to rely on anything other than knowing what you felt for each other. That your care and warmth of the other was enough to keep your relationship solid rather than depending on the notion of destiny.

No. You and Bucky had created something so stunningly special by yourselves. And he was an idiot for ever thinking anything else.  

Standing in Nat’s bar, in the middle of the dance floor by the vintage jukebox, the world came rushing back in. The music, the chatter. It was reality — tangible. And it was the outcome of your own doings. Better than anything the universe could have concocted for you. 

“In the future, when you think back to each memory of us, remember that there was nothing binding us together. I just wanted to be with you.” You booped his nose, a delicate glisten in your eyes. “Know now, I’ll want you forever.”  

Bucky cleared his throat, discreetly trying to blink away the tears that threatened to break the surface. Even so, his voice cracked with an overload of emotion. “You’re somethin’ else, Dolly.” 

You sniffled, not as willing to hide your sentiment. “Nope. Just me. And you love me all the more for it.” 

“I do,” he breathed. “God, do I fuckin’ love you, more than you could ever know.” 

“Well,” you grinned, as beautiful as always. “We’ve only got the rest of our lives for you to make sure I do.” 

Your excited squeal of laughter echoed around the bar, your friends and family cheering as Bucky swept you off your feet and gathered you into his arms. His smitten smile rang loud for everyone to see, but his soft promise was dedicated to you alone. “Then I best get makin’ good on that then, sweetheart.”

thanks for coming to my ted talk

Bucky Barnes in the new Thunderbolts Special Look.

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (Two) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

tuesday, march 13th, 1:06am;

The next morning you're eating breakfast at the kitchen table across from your mother. Just moments ago she had tossed a fat binder of old photos onto the wood, right next to your plate.

"I thought we'd have a laugh looking at these?" She said, and now as you flip through the frayed pages you find she was absolutely right.

There are polaroids of you as a toddler, long before your parents even thought about separating. A blue sand bucket is perched on your little head like a fashionable hat, and the sunset in the background casts gold reflections on the waves. In the following photo, you're swimming on a great big elephant raft, of course assisted by your Dad. In his younger age he is almost a completely different person, aged bleakly at the hands of the Island.

The marred cover of the book holds memories that you don't even remember, the figment of those toddler experiences a distant dream in the back of your mind.

You flip to the next page, revealing you and your big patterned book bag on her way to the first day of kindergarten. Your polka dotted sundress flows at your small calves and a lunch box hangs at your side. A big grin decorates your face and your eyes twinkle in excitement. Next to you stands a similarly posed little boy, with dark brown hair and those salient blue eyes.

"It's little Bucky!" You exclaim, pointing it out to your mom to confirm.

She hums, "Yes, I remember that. I took him with us for his first day because his mom was caught up in work on the mainland. You know, he really does help out a lot, and it's nice to have him around." She smiles sadly, "You know, despite this whole island being involved in everyone's personal lives I never really got to know his Mum. She passed while he was away in Afghanistan maybe four years ago. He was twenty-two, Rebecca was fifteen."

"What?" Your face screws up a little with the news, "That's awful. I didn't even know he joined the service before yesterday, and his mother died?"

"Yeah, after high school he enlisted and left for a while." She nods, "He doesn't talk about it though, so I wouldn't ask. He lost a lot those couple of years, to say the least."

"So it's just him and Rebecca all alone in that house then?" You ask, and you feel your heart cry out sympathetically at the thought.

When you were in middle school together, years before you had left the island, the siblings had lost their father in a freak boating accident. The poor man had been overworking himself and had drifted asleep on deck, out alone on his small fishing boat at dusk. Despite having been the most experienced fisherman on the island, he had crashed into the rocks and capsized, leaving the harbor patrol to find his body in the early hours of the morning after Mrs. Barnes called to ask about her husband.

The memory still felt fresh even for you.

For the first time in the many years of walking to school together, James hadn't met you at the end of your driveway that morning. When he didn't arrive late to school either, you had begun to worry. As soon as the bells dismissed your final class you had rushed out of the building to the Barnes' small cottage home just a few blocks away.

You remember the cop car sitting in the driveway and the front door ajar.

You remember the wailing of Mrs. Barnes as you crossed the threshold of the entrance and James sitting stiffly at the head of his dining room table, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. James never ever cried in front of anyone, but as he locked his gaze on yours that day you swear you felt the dam snap within him, and watched helplessly as the tears streamed from his eyes endlessly.

You remembered the day before this fateful event as well; when Bucky begged his father to take him along that night to check the lobster traps. And to know that the boy had now lost both of his parents hurts your heart in a way indescribable.

Your mother sighs sorrowfully, "Yeah, Rebecca was sent out to foster care in Portland for a while before Bucky came home from over seas and became her legal guardian. She must be around nineteen now?"

"God, I feel so horrible for not reaching out to him." You groan, "I don't even have a good excuse! I'm downright terrible. I can't believe no one told me she passed."

She shrugs at you, "You'll make it up to him. He's never been one to hold grudges, you know that. I assumed you knew, anyway, didn't realize you two hadn't been talking."

It's true. You remember plenty of trivial arguments on the playground, whether it be with you or another child. Bucky has always been loyal and fiercely protective of the people he cares about - protective of himself even - but he's also forgiving.

However, it's not being forgiven that you're worried about. Deep down you knows Bucky would forgive you for anything, that's just who he is.

No, what you're really afraid of is that the time apart has changed the two of you beyond recognition. You worry that despite you're best attempts, you won't be able to repair the damages your friendship took while you were growing up— while you were away. There's so much to say, so much to tell each other and you don't even know where to start. Are you even meant to pick up where you left off?

After all, you aren't kids anymore. That's the hardest pill to swallow. There won't be any more running off to the shore barefooted, bikes discarded in the dunes. Entwined fingers and soft touches are no longer innocent —maybe not even natural—and there will be no more folded notes passed silently during class. No more forts built in the woods with his mother's linen sheets and mossy branches.

It's practically uncharted territory, except the terrain never changed— it's just . . . different now.

Who knows, maybe Bucky doesn't even want that side of you anymore. Maybe you don't either.

~

After breakfast you goes up to your room to fish out some clothes and takes a quick shower to freshen up. You pull on a pair of worn jeans and an offensively purple rain jacket (cringing at your teenage self's outfit choices) before descending down and out to the barn.

The horses nicker at you instantaneously as you flip up the lock and slides open the thick barn door. Though there are eight stalls, the barn only holds four horses currently. There was a time when your mother made decent money training and selling working horses and holding riding lessons for the local kids, and back then there was never an empty stall. Now times have changed, the business has diminished and there's no longer the money for your mother to pour into her horses. She still teaches a few of the kids nearby, and it's just enough to support the existing horses but it's not the same.

You greet the horses one by one and unlock the door to the grain room at the end of the barn aisle. The black notebook sits upon a stack of vet paperwork and other various items, you flip it open and locate the page with the feeding schedule. The grain buckets sit in a neat stack against the wall, which you arrange on the floor and begin to scoop the correct amount of grain into each one, topping them off with the required supplements and powders.

Each bucket is labeled, a thick piece of silver duct tape attached to each bucket with the names scrawled in sharpie marker. You deliver each meal to the respective horse and tidy up the grain room while you waits for them to eat. After a few moments pass, you flip your hood over your head and halter each horse, leading them out one by one to the pastures for turn out just like you used to when you were young.

You must admit, you miss this part of home. You were always fond of the horses and it was one of the few ways you and your mother could bond together.

The rain patters on the rigid fabric of your rain jacket as you walk back into the barn from the paddocks. When that task is complete you focus on cleaning the stalls and starts to head inside when you're finished. There's a sort of strange gratification in mucking the stalls and cleaning everything up, the sweet smell of hay and musk of the horses surrounding you.

You pull open the door to leave the tack room after grabbing your water and shut it behind you, turning to lock it closed as well. As you spins around soundlessly, you're met with a solid wall striking you straight in the chest.

Or rather, not a wall, but a person you realize, looking up with a startled gasp.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't even hear you." You pull back, removing your hands from Bucky's strong chest where you had instinctively braced yourself. His right arm comes up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, a greeting smile creeping to his lips.

"No, no that's my bad, I snuck up on ya'. Your mom said you were in here."

He's wearing another baseball hat, this one a navy blue that went well with his eyes, and a thick gray sweatshirt under a Carhart jacket, both hoods are pulled over his head. His clothes are wet and you become suddenly aware of the surging rain outside and the thick grey clouds rolling into the horizon through the sky from the half opened barn door.

He towers over your figure almost comically, and you think you've never felt so small.

"Remember when I used to be able to look down at you." You blurt out. You immediately regret the sudden, random statement until Bucky begins to laugh, his eyes squinting and his faint crows feet imprinting on his face. You'd definitely caught him off guard.

"I was never that short." He huffs, "We were like the same height from age eight until like - I don't know, the summer you visited when we were sixteen?"

"Mmm, no, I was definitely taller," You retort, grinning broadly. Bucky begins to open his mouth to disagree, brows furrowed. "But don't worry, you're huge now. You could fight a black bear." you quip, relishing in teasing him just like you used to.

"I do not want to fight a black bear." He laughs, shaking his head with his eyes blown wide.

You huff a laugh, and spin to turn the light off in the aisle, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to drop off a few packages of fish for your mom, fresh caught yesterday evening after I left here. Whenever I work on the boats I get a share of whatever we catch so I split it with a few people on the island."

"Well, it seems like you do a lot around here. I'm sure everyone is grateful to have you." You respond. He looks away from you, a pink dusting on his cheeks, as if being thanked made him feel uncomfortable. "So what, do you do everything around the island? Fishing, working at the harbor, helping out with the horses. . . You sound busy."

"Yeah, I like it that way." He nods, "I work as a deck hand some days, I go out on the boats with Dad's old friends to fish and sell at the markets. I have my dad's sailboat now, like I said so sometimes I take it out myself on the nice days. I do all kinds of weird jobs around here, sometimes I work at the lumberyard too."

"You're like, the Island's handyman."

Bucky chuckles at that. "Yeah, guess so. But what about you, what were you up to all these years?"

"Oh," You weren't prepared for that question. You could talk about him forever but talking about yourself was a lot harder, "Well, you know, college. Graduated with an art education degree, got my own studio. I ran a small gallery and taught out of it, just spent my time painting and such. Made some good money and met a ton of awesome people." You sigh deeply, meeting Bucky's eyes, "My dad, he passed, and I think I was just ready to come home. It was great while it lasted though."

"I'm sorry about your dad. But why would you ever come back here? You of all people." Bucky tone is teasing, but you can't tell he's been begging to ask the question.

She thinks for a moment before answering with a shrug, "I guess it just felt right."

Bucky nods like he understands, "You see cool things out there?" he asks.

"Yeah." She sighs, "Wish I coulda' shown you. Maybe one day you can come back with me and I'll show you around." You smile, hopefully.

"I'd like that. And I'd love to see your art sometime, too. Can't even imagine how good you must be."

"It was . . . gratifying to say the least." The excitement of selling a piece of work and getting the praise you always wanted for the things you poured your heart into. It was exhilarating really, to be successful at something you love.

"You should open a gallery downtown, and host art nights. There's so many vacancies now I'm sure you'd get a good deal on a retail space." Bucky says.

"You know, that's actually not a bad idea." You agree, thoughtfully. "I don't know how well it would work out though given the population of the island is like . . . four." You laugh.

"Basically," He agrees, nodding. Bucky slips his hands in his pockets, nodding towards his truck at the end of the road. "I gotta get going, I have some errands to run before I pick Beccs up from work. I'll see you around right?"

"Absolutely." You nodd. As the two of you turn around and start to walk out the barn together, you stop, grabbing hold of the fabric of Bucky's jacket.

You don't know what came over you but suddenly, it just felt right to get it out right then and there.

"Hey," you start, looking down at your shoes and shifting your weight on one foot before looking back up to his face. "I'm really sorry, for not keeping in contact. You didn't deserve that." You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

"It's okay, doll. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for what I said before you left, it was unfair of me."

A lump almost forms in your throat as you think back to the last time you had visited as a teen. You have to swallow it back into your stomach where the energy flutters uncomfortably.

"It's okay. We were kids, right? Stupid kids, at that." You say gently, offering a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand on his arm, "Can we just agree to put it behind us?"

"I'd like that." He complies. "But I already have. We were stupid kids, we have all the time to make up for it now." Bucky smiles, hand squeezing gently on your shoulder, soothingly.

As you both step off the concrete platform of the barn's floor and onto the slick dirt path, the sludge of the sticky brown mud squelches under your boots. It's in an instant that the ground is being pulled out from under you like a carpet and you're sent crashing down into the mud with a comically loud splat, the air in your lungs being pushed out in a gasp.

"Shit! You good?" Bucky calls alarmingly. He's holding his hands out to help you up but before you can even comprehend your position he's falling in too.

He manages to catch himself on his hands and knees, unlike you who can feel the cold wetness creeping through the fabric of your jeans from your bottom all the way to the back of your thighs. You grimace, but neither can't help but laugh.

Bucky let's out a boyish laugh from the depths of his chest, "Careful, doll. It's slippery." He grins and for a second you really do feel like a kid again, the clumsy, giggly mess that you are.

You let your pained chuckle overtake you until you're just as loud as Bucky. Your tailbone aches and now your stomach does too as you curls in on yourself, shoulders heaving as you laugh together.

You're all smiles and pink blush as you pick each other up off the ground, the rain drenching your skin and clothes covered in thick mud now.

"God, I'm sorry. We look like idiots."

"We are idiots." You correct, "Come inside, there's gotta be something for you to change into. I'm sure you don't wanna run your errands looking like that. Or even get into your nice truck like that."

"You think my truck is nice?" He asks, eyes glimmering in child-like joy.

"Uh, who wouldn't?"

Bucky shrugs but follows you into the house anyway. You both discard your shoes on the front porch and you call to your mother to let her know you are coming in; mud, rain, and all.

You lead him upstairs and hand him a towel from the linens closet adjoining the bathroom and knock on your mother's bedroom door. She opens it confused, raising her eyebrow at the pair's appearance. Bucky waves a hand in greeting.

"Do you have men's clothes that might fit Bucky? Or a robe while we throw his clothes in the wash? We slipped in the mud."

Your mother laughs, disbelievingly, "You two are always a mess, you never change. Give me a second."

You two exchange fleeting glances, shoulders bumping one another in the narrow corridor that Bucky seems to dwarf with his size. Your mother returns with a pair of dark wash jeans, a small pin-prick of a hole down the seam in the side.

"These should do the trick, they're old as hell though. Let me know if you need anything else." She says sweetly, before retiring back to her room.

Bucky changes in the bathroom while you wait and then you switch out. An almost awkward goodbye is shared in the hallway, neither of you really wanting to depart.

Bucky goes back downstairs and out the front door, stopping to wave at you once more at the top of the landing before you hear the rumble of his truck and start the shower

written 5/17/23 rewritten 5/22/25

This outfit hit different.

An Education in Malice — Part Two

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT /sexual content (not reader and az this time tho), swearing, eris having a soft spot for his sister, some low-blow comments and jokes about experienced trauma, mentions of sex, slut shaming if you squint

Word Count: 5.9k

← Part One | Series Masterlist | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was night by time Eris returned home.

The room was capped in a comfortable silence, only the crackling of the fire next to you and the soft breaths of the two hounds that surrounded you— Laney at your feet, Flint lying on the floor nearby. The couch was soft below you as you lay comfortably on it, fingers absentmindedly tracing the paper edges of the book in your hands. Despite the peace of the room, something not often found in Forest House, your mind sat heavy with racing thoughts. 

Every single one seemed to drift back to Azriel. 

You had already bathed, had already spent time delicately rubbing your skin raw of any scent, of any traces that might connect you back to your earlier decisions. It was a blessing, truly, that Eris had spent the day with his own affairs. You made a note to thank The Mother for the grace given to you— if you had returned home to your brother in the state that you had been, there was no doubt in your mind he would have made a decision even more rash than yours. 

But it didn’t seem to help. You weren’t able to wash it off as well as you’d hoped. There was something that still lingered, something ingrained into you, into your bloodstream itself. You weren't a stranger to questionable decisions— but this, this was perhaps your worst to date. 

Because there was something deep in you that now felt powerful. 

Azriel was driven by duty— by a devotion to his little family that made you angry, a devotion that left him blind and prone to defensiveness. The thought that he would have to return home, to face his family knowing he’d broken some boundary, some sense of trust…. It warmed you in a way that the fire next to you never could.  

A small creek echoed and from below you, Flint perked up, head lifting in alertness, ears perched and engaged. A moment later, Eris emerged, his eyes meeting yours instantly as he offered you a small, tired smile. He took in the scene before him as you closed the book in your lap. 

“Eventful day?”

He let out a small sigh, perching himself on the edge of the couch opposite you. Flint laid on the floor still, watching him closely as his tail thumped lightly against the ground in greeting. "I suppose.”

There was a pause as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "And the Shadowsinger?" 

You glanced down at the book in your hands, fingers running along the edges of the pages before responding with a casual shrug. "Uneventful,” you replied, “He gave no updates.”

Eris only let out a breath in response, a single eyebrow raised momentarily.

"He’s very…reactive for a Spymaster," you added, a wry smile now playing at the corners of your lips. “You would think they’d be more collected.”

"They’re all reactive," Eris chuckled softly, his mouth turning up in a smile that mirrored your own. His gaze flickered towards the hound at your feet, and you followed his line of sight, reaching down to scratch her head gently.

"Almost more reactive than sweet Laney over here," you teased, earning a soft huff of agreement from her wet nose as she leaned into your touch.

Laney was one of the only female hounds your family owned, a true vision of regal elegance. Eris had trained her specifically for you, a hound just as stubborn and reactive as yourself— and loyal to a fault, as he had told you. 

Eris chuckled once more, a sound more gentle and quiet than his normal tone. When you turned to look at him, you were met with a face lost in contemplation, eyes glazed over as his gaze remained fixed on Laney. You frowned, feeling your brows furrow as you took him in, taking notice of the dark circles below his amber eyes.

“Go rest,” you said quietly, giving him a smile as his gaze snapped to yours. 

Eris gave you a small nod as he rose from his perch on the couch. Flint followed the motion instantly rising up from the floor to stand at his side. Your brother crossed the room to where you sat, taking large strides to the hallway behind you. There was a playful gleam in his eyes as he passed you, his hand reaching out to tousle your hair affectionately. 

"Goodnight, sister," he said softly, hand lingering on your head for a moment before he continued walking.

He made it a few more steps before you called out to him. 

"Eris," you began, turning your body to place your hands on the couch and rest your chin upon them. "I want to come to more meetings."

He turned to face you, brows furrowing in mild confusion. "Why?"

"I want to be informed.”

His eyes scanned your face. "I tell you everything I know.”

You let out a sigh, casting a quick glance toward the cracking fire. Then you looked at your brother with a small frown. “I want to be more than just a recipient of passing messages."

It was true. Although you did all the favors Eris asked of you, which extended to taking his place in meetings, he tended to avoid involving you unless it was necessary. You knew that it came from a place of protection, a sense of comfort knowing that he could perhaps save you from hurt so long as you never came near it. But you felt useless, and you wanted to do more. Collecting intel from your father’s acquaintances and listening for news was the most you’d been able to do. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been offered the taste of a newer freedom today— and you suddenly had a craving you weren’t able to smother. 

The next words that came from your mouth weren’t needed. It was wrong to guilt Eris, to take advantage of the soft spot he held for you and your power. But you did it anyway.

"I am more than just a pretty face,” you told him, “Prove to them that not all of Autumn believes females to be weak."

He hesitated for a moment, lips twitching in thought. 

"Okay," he conceded, "But not too often. We still need to avoid suspicion."

You gave him a smile. "Thank you," you said softly.

Your brother stared at you for a moment, his hand absentmindedly rubbing at the hound that stood next to him. 

"Thank you for taking my place today," He finally said, his tone sincere. "I know that meeting must not have been entertaining, with the brute and all."

A flicker of guilt sparked in your stomach, but you shrugged it away. Quickly, it was replaced with a sense of pride. What Eris didn’t know surely wouldn’t hurt him, and despite how questionable your decisions may have been, they weren’t dangerous— and certainly wouldn’t be repeated again. You gave him a grin. 

"I know how to tame beasts." 

As if on cue, Laney perked up from her position at your feet, her extended neck looking over to where Eris stood behind the couch. He let out a chuckle.

"Indeed you do.” You offered you the small, almost sad, smile once more. “Goodnight.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, you watched as he exited the room, the soft sound of Flint’s paws padding after him. 

You waited until it was quiet again, until the a distant creak of Eris's door closing reached your ears, before you turned yourself around on the couch. You brought a hand to rest on Laney’s head, leaning in closer as you gently rubbed your thumbs on her coat.

"Well that was fun, huh?" you murmured softly, the words directed more to yourself than to the hound in front of you. Laney nustled further into your touch. 

For a moment longer, you lingered in the quiet of the room, the weight of your thoughts mingling with the gentle warmth of the fire. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel was going batshit crazy— this he knew for certain.

He was a sick male. A male now plagued with a disease he worried had no cure. He was on the brink of a certain madness that was driven by you, and you alone. 

A part of him wondered if your sudden involvement had anything to do with your latest encounter with him. But it made no sense— you were at every meeting with Cassian, causing him to come home grumbling about how he was forced to deal with not one, but two pretentious cunts. Yet, it was only ever Eris when Azriel was free to receive updates. 

You had always been some sort of mystery— a fact that used to drive Azriel crazy. He didn’t like unknown factors, didn’t like not knowing his threats properly. You were often shrouded away in the shadows, hidden in the affairs of the Autumn Court. In line with the Vanserra philosophies, as Azriel saw it, you, as a female, truly had no place outside of your court. The times that he did see you were all the same— some snarky comment made from your lips, a sneer at him or anyone from his family, usually Mor.

Yet, you had been there with him three weeks ago. And Azriel hadn’t been able to read you. Not properly anyway, not even when he was inside you, not even as he pushed you to completion.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he enjoyed it.

You were the perfect middle ground. Not exactly an enemy— Azriel would never betray his family so deeply. But you weren’t exactly an ally either, weren’t someone he owed even an ounce of respect to— weren’t a person he needed to keep a face with. And gods did it feel good to think about how he could ruin you— how furious your brothers would be at the idea of him enjoying such intimacies with you. Eris, especially. Azriel couldn’t kill the pretentious fucker, but he could damage him in other ways. Fucking his sister seemed like a good place to start. A wonderful place for him, at least.

Not much scared Azriel. Not much at all. But this, this hunger he felt, the enjoyment he got from experiencing you, it scared him enough to instantly seek out something to distract him. 

But there was an itch he wasn’t able to scratch.

And that itch looked like you, smelled like you, sounded like you–

Azriel blinked hard, trying to shake off the haze of his thoughts. His attention snapped back to the present, finding himself gazing down at the blonde kneeling between his legs. Her blue eyes met his as she sucked on him, tongue swirling around the head of his cock as she worked the base of him with a perfectly manicured hand. 

She removed her mouth from his tip, hand still pumping the length of him as she looked up at him with wide eyes. A seductive smirk danced on her lips as she bit down on them. "I love sucking your cock,” she whispered huskily, “Does it feel good?"

Azriel stared at her for a moment, eyes still slightly glazed over. He bit the inside of his cheek as he hesitated. Then he nodded. 

"Keep going.”

He wrapped his hand in her hair, guiding her movements as he took control, bucking into her mouth with urgency. But every thrust, though pleasurable, felt unsatisfying. 

He tried for a few more minutes, tried to readjust himself on her blue velvet couch, tried to lean his head back and close his eyes as he bobbed her head on his cock— nothing worked. The image of three weeks ago was seared into the back of his eyelids, staring back at him every moment he blinked. He was stressed, frustrated, and had a boiling anger that had only continued to build up recently. Nothing seemed to be working for him, not in his duties, not in his life, not even in his sexual activities. 

He tried to focus on the sensations coursing through his body, on the pleasure the female before him was offering so freely to him. But every noise she made, every movement she made, only served to remind him that he was too on edge to enjoy it. And fuck, Azriel couldn’t even remember her name. With a frustrated growl, he pulled her off with a pop, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She frowned as Azriel’s hands left their place on her scalp.

When he wouldn’t reach her eyes with his own, she climbed up on him, her voice a seductive purr as she offered herself to him. 

"Use me however you want. Let your frustrations out."

For a moment, Azriel hesitated, his mind torn between desire and something else, something deeper. He could do it— and he could probably enjoy it. So long as she wasn’t facing him, so long as he could pretend it was...you?

With a sudden surge of energy, he pulled himself up, his hands gripping her tightly as he threw her onto the bed. She let out an excited sequel as he moved towards her, positioning her at the edge of the bed for him to slot himself behind her. As he entered her, a low groan escaped his lips, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his body. 

Her high-pitched whine echoed in the room, mingling with his grunts of exertion as he pounded into her, his grip on her hips firm—  almost bruising. She let out breathy moans in response, her body arching against his as he began to move relentlessly, beginning to buck his hips into her fast and hard.

It was then he felt a cool sensation trailing up his body, disembodied whispers drowning out her words of praise.

She walks along the mortal lands, his shadows whispered, deep in the forest.

The female below him gave another whine. 

Alone, Alone, Alone. 

Quickly, Azriel pulled out of her, leaving her gasping for air and reaching out for him in confusion. But he was already moving, hastily gathering his clothes and rushing towards the door.

Without a word, he threw some money onto the nearby dresser, barely sparing a glance as he made his way out of the door. She turned herself around to stare at the scattered payment on the counter, a frown marring her features. With a frustrated grumble, she fell back onto the bed.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Eris hadn’t told you much.

Beron’s men were thinly spread these days— running in and out of the court, falling into hushed whispers behind your father’s private quarters. Eris’ soldiers told him as much as they could, but with their low numbers, there wasn’t much they could do, not many places they could sneak to without notice. 

Eris was still recovering from the loss, from the men he lost to Azriel and Cassian’s slaughter— to Briallyn and her ability to render them mindless attackers. Your brother wasn’t only mourning his forces, but his friends as well. All of them meant something to him, their loyalty, the bond he had formed to gain their trust. But he would never admit it, not to himself, not even to you. There was no time for mourning in the Autumn Court. 

So you found yourself along the border to the Mortal Lands now, seeking out any sign of where your father’s men may be hiding out. From what you’d gathered so far, they had some areas of rest in the moral lands, areas that were hidden far enough to where they couldn’t be trailed, but close enough to Koschei if it was needed— and that was your fathers entire plan. He was getting desperate, he was getting paranoid— scared of his future, scared of Eris. 

You paused, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. There was a bristle behind you and you lifted your chin in response, taking a deep breath of the air. Something flickered within you. Without turning around, you spoke into the stillness of the forest.

"Do you always stalk the females you fuck, or am I just special?" 

A voice, hard as stone, responded from behind you. "I'm not stalking you."

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting the shadowed figure emerging from the depths of the trees. Azriel stood before you, his expression flat as usual. His shadows spread out from his form, floating around him like a faint black outline. 

"Then what do you call following a lady into the woods from afar?" 

Azriel’s face remained stoic, save for the slight raise of an eyebrow. 

 "Show me a lady and then maybe I'll tell you," he said, voice dripping with a sardonic wit that set something inside you alight— something deep in your gut.

You let out a sound of surprise before you were laughing at the snark, lips curving into a smirk. Azriel tensed, his jaw tightening as the sound reached his ears.

"Oh, someone's feeling playful," you remarked with a teasing lilt, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Rhysand give you a longer leash?"

Azriel said nothing in response, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made you unable to stay still. A moment passed as his eyes continued to bore into yours. And then he spoke, a tone cutting through the air like a finely sharpened blade. “You’ve been avoiding me."

There was a tinge of irritation in his tone that made you want to grin. 

So he’d noticed.

It was unintended at first, truly. Things were difficult in Autumn recently, with all the whispered rumors of your father planning something questionable. You found yourself only able to attend the meetings in which Eris met with Cassian and his, now, prized mate. 

But in the back of your head, a part of you was amused at the idea that Azriel may begin to overthink— that a part of him would get frustrated that you were just out of reach. You weren’t exactly sure why that reaction would be warranted, but you knew it would happen nonetheless. You had an idea, now, how that pretty little mind of his worked. After all, he was a paranoid, anger-prone insomniac. Those types rarely made sane decisions. Seeing him before you now, on edge, irritable, it made it worth the wait. 

You raised an amusement eyebrow.

“Have I?"

The feigned innocence in your tone burned deep with annoyance in Azriel’s gut. He grit his teeth in response. 

"Yes," he replied.

You scoffed lightly. "You have a mighty inflated sense of self. I don't decide my activities based on the likes of you."

Azriel's expression remained impassive, but you swore a flicker of something passed through his darkened eyes— a hint of frustration, perhaps. It was delicious. 

"You've begun to join Eris in our meetings.”

Your eyebrow quirked up in response. You said nothing. Azriel continued.

 "And yet, never the ones with me.”

You tilted your head at him, eyes in a narrow-squint as you ran your tongue along your teeth. Azriel’s eyes dropped to your lips, tracing the motion. A grin grew on your face.

"Have you missed me, Shadowsinger?" 

“No,” Azriel responded swiftly, “I’m suspicious of you."

"Yeah?" You crossed your arms across your chest. Once again, Azriel’s eyes fell as he took in the motion. “And whys that?” 

His eyes seemed to narrow at the playfulness in your voice, but he gave no further physical reaction, simply continuing to hold your gaze as he responded. "I don't trust you.”

You rolled your eyes. "Get in line."

"You are bordering the mortal lands," Azriel stated, his voice a low rumble. "If there are updates regarding Koschei, we should be informed."

"Why?" you challenged, a note of defiance now coloring your tone. Azriel’s jaw clenched, light pouring through the trees in a way that made the shadows on his face even harsher. His own moved around him in an uneasy dance. 

"Because we have an agreement." 

"Uh uh," you retorted, shaking your head. "You have an agreement with Eris, not me. I don't owe you shit."

His self-control was wearing thin now. Azriel hadn’t forgotten how much you tested his patience— but the past three weeks had somehow softened the aggravation he felt around you in his own mind. He was being reminded now, in real time, why it was a good idea for him to keep his distance. 

"Careful," he growled. You didn’t miss the slight twitch in his wings, still carefully tucked between his shoulder blades.

You raised an eyebrow.  "Is that a warning or a threat?" 

Azriel's gaze hardened. Without breaking eye contact, he shifted his weight, a predatory grace in his movements as he took a step closer.

"Both." 

"Let me guess,” you said mockingly, “If I'm not an ally, I'm a threat.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes, shadows swirling around him like a storm brewing. “Yes.”

You pursed your lips, taking a step towards him. Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, a small crease forming between his brows as he traced the movement. A heat stirred within you. 

"Do you fuck all your threats?" 

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking in his temple as his shadows danced with a restrained bite. You paid it no mind as you continued to step closer to him, closing the distance between you.

"That's why you're really here, isn't it?" 

Your voice was a low, sultry taunt. You were inches away from him now, looking up at him through your lashes as you reached a hand out to touch his chest.

He tensed beneath your touch. With a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, you slowly trailed your fingers up his chest. It took Azriel a moment too long before he grabbed your hand.

Your smirk widened, eyes flickering to where his scarred hand wrapped around your wrist. You met his eyes next, a deep, angry, brown that bore into yours. 

"How did it feel?" you said, voice dropping to a low purr, "When you went home and looked your brothers in the face, knowing you'd done yet another thing to disappoint them?"

The remark hit Azriel in his gut, twisting in his stomach with a burning intensity that he wasn’t used to. Whether it was anger, guilt, or annoyance as the vulgarity, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. His grip tightened almost painfully on your hand, eyes narrowing with a dangerous flame as he stared down at you. 

You didn’t flinch, didn’t tear away from his gaze. There was an addicting sense of satisfaction at having struck a nerve with him once more. You took a second to revel in the discomfort you provoked, in the way his muscles tensed at your voice– in the scent change you smelled in the air, now thick with unspoken desire and heady arousal. 

Azriel leaned down, voice dropping to a heated whisper. "I've done a lot worse than you."

He released your hand from his grip. You let it fall to your side.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you said with a knowing grin. "And it eats you up the same, doesn't it?"

Azriel didn’t move, didn’t so much as bat an eye at you. A moment passed. And then another. Something flickered across his face. You could have sworn his eyes were now adorned with an amusing glow, that the corners of his lips tilted upwards. 

"How was it when you returned home covered in me?" he challenged, voice edged with a sweet, sweet, bitterness. “In my scent, filled with my cum?”

Shivers rippled across your skin as a cool sensation cascaded over your body. You glanced down, watching as dark shadows slithered up your form.

You took a deep breath, ignoring their ghostly touch as you raised an unphased eyebrow in response. "No one batted an eye," you replied coolly.

The shadows continued to move in Azriel’s silence, now wrapping around your neck with a possessive grip that made your heart race. You gritted your teeth at the sensation, pushing back the rush of memories that were now flooding into your mind— memories of the last time his shadows had caressed your skin, tracing every curve and dip of your body with intimate knowledge. Your eyes met Azriel’s.

"Guess you didn't leave that much of an impression.”

A low snarl escaped Azriel's lips. "Or perhaps they're used to you carrying a male's scent.”

You mocked him with a smirk, taking a step back to maintain your distance. His shadows fell from their position around your neck swiftly, rushing back to his body as Azriel's jaw clenched.

 "Well now I'm getting mixed signals. Last time I was deprived of a male’s touch, now I'm a whore?"

Azriel said nothing. His teeth seemed to grind against each other with such force that you half-expected them to break under the pressure of his frustration.

"For someone who is so sensitive about his delirious crush being called a slut, you're sure eager to throw such terms around to me." 

Your words dripped with a sense of sarcasm, a sense of mockery, that Azriel could almost feel. His wings flared out slightly in response. 

"I never said that," was his only reply. 

It wasn't an apology. No, Azriel wanted to make sure that whatever words he said were the exact ones he meant. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, a reminder of the last time you’d stirred such a response in him, of when he had called you those very words in the heat of passion— if he could even call it that. And you had responded in kind, your body yielding to his touch with a fervor that belied any notion of innocence.

Before he could stop himself, he felt himself speak once more. "Although you seemed to enjoy it quite thoroughly when I did."

Deep in your chest, there was a flicker of flame, his words igniting a spark of something within you. You bristled at the insinuation, but dutifully ignored the comment— ignored the connotations that came with it. Instead, you hummed in response, shaking your head. 

"That's the thing with you hypocrites. You never just own up to it, do you?”

With a faint smirk still playing on your lips, you took a few steps backwards, eyes trained on him and the shadows coiling around his arms. 

“Always a displeasure to speak with you, Shadowsinger.”

As you turned around and began to walk away, there was a queasy feeling in your stomach, a realization that you'd do something to be in this position again, to find a way to rile him up. The thought of igniting that volatile spark between you, setting off sparks like last time—it was too tempting to resist. 

But as you felt the burning of his gaze into your back, you couldn’t ignore the nagging truth. He wasn't just a fun toy to play with. Azriel was obsessive, that much you could gather from him— from his history with Morrigan, from his methods of interrogation, from his pride as a spymaster. And the way he was before you now, with the intensity that he regarded you with, it would surely prove to be a problem; a hindrance to being able to help Eris to the best of your ability. 

And before your fun— before any amusement you found in Azriel— came one thing. Your loyalty to your brother. 

With a steadying breath, you paused and glanced back at him over your shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," you called out, "If you follow me again–"

You turned around completely to face him. With a hand wreathed in flame, you lazily pointed to his hands, fisted at his sides. 

"I'll pick up where your brothers left off.”

Azriel's gaze flickered down to your hand,  down to his own, and then back up to meet your eyes. 

You brought the same hand near your lips, blowing a kiss in his direction. Azriel watched as a flame danced in the air, swirling and twirling in the shape of a small heart. 

Then, without another word, you turned and left, disappearing into the forest. 

His gaze followed the flickering flame as it dissipated into the cool breeze. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found Eris in his room, seated at his desk as he wrote on one of many scattered papers.

Eris’ room was more full of life than one would expect, adorned with a carefully curated selection of artwork that perfectly showed his refined tastes. Various books lined the shelves of his walls. He had always been quite the scholar at heart, with a keen eye for art and literature. It was a side of your brother that few outside the family knew— a facet of his personality that he shared with Lucien. It was one of the things they shared so closely, but they never talked about it, never truly had any chance to bond beyond the trauma of existing in your family. 

The thought of it made your heart hurt. You pushed it away as you moved to sit at the edge of Eris’ bed, watching as he put his papers together before turning to look at you. When he met your eyes, you shook your head. 

 "Nothing,” you said, “But I wasn't able to get far, anyways.”

Eris lifted an eyebrow in response. “What do you mean?”

"That Shadowsinger sure knows how to keep himself busy.”

There was a tick in Eris’ jaw that told you he was more than annoyed— and that he had a few choice words he was fighting to say. But, instead, Eris simply rolled his eyes. 

“Of fucking course,” He said as he leaned back in his chair. He ran a hang along his face. "Are you able to handle him?"

You resisted the urge to snicker, at both your brother’s irritation and the experiences you’ve had with Azriel. Your mind replayed the subtle giveaways that Azriel’s body had given in response to your taunts— and then continued to pour in images of how those taunts had led him to succumbing to a primal desire. 

You met your brother's gaze with a smug shrug. "Yes,” you responded, “Very well, I’d say. He hasn’t killed me yet.”

Your words were a simple joke, but Eris seemed to tense at them nonetheless. You frowned, but the reaction was short-lived as he nodded in thought. His eyes flickered to yours. 

"Good, because I need you to take my place.”

You blinked, your brows furrowing as you leaned forward. 

"What do you mean, ‘your place'?" 

Eris met your gaze casually. "Meeting with them," he clarified, his voice steady and unwavering.

“You want me to go in your place permanently?”

You knew for certain that the look on your face was nothing short of annoyance and disgust. 

"For now," Eris replied evenly. "If they’re suspicious of you, give them a reason not to be."

You paused. Your mind raced with countless disembodied thoughts and images, the realization that you’d be around Azriel once more– and much more often; that you'd have to deal with them all. Deal with them and their blinding arrogance. Eris, for all of his outward appearances, had an ability to be diplomatic— to a certain extent at least, given his bite. But you wouldn’t be able to handle that. Not all the time, not without your brother. Your previous meeting with Eris, Cassian, and Nesta proved your point— one more comment from you, and you were sure the brute or his death-bride would have killed you on the spot.

You tilted your head at Eris. 

"And you’ll follow the leads with your men."

He nodded.

He needed your help. And if you weren’t able to keep Azriel at arms length, the least you could do was keep him occupied enough so his wandering eyes wouldn’t travel to your brother. Now that— that was something you could do. You could ruin him.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin.

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll do it.” 

Eris gave a laugh. “How sweet that you thought you had a choice.”

You rolled your eyes as Eris stood up, brushing himself off slightly as he walked towards you. 

"But you do know that I will have to tell them our suspicions eventually.”

You scrunched your face, looking up at him with a distasteful, frustrated frown. 

"Why?" 

He lifted his brows, baring a facial expression that mirrored that of an exasperated parent. 

"Because we have an allian–”

You interrupted him with an annoyed flick of your hand.

"Alliance, yes, I know," you muttered. "Which I still don’t understand."

Eris sighed. "Y/n—"

A pent-up frustration bubbled beneath you, a simmering heat in your stomach that made you feel antsy. You did your best to bite it down, to swallow the annoyance that was suffocating you, but it was no use. You were never good at holding back your outbursts.

"No, actually, doesn’t it bother you?" you asked, your voice rising slightly. "That they think they're so much better than you, than us?"

Eris clenched his jaw, but he remained composed. This was a conversation you’d had many times before, a frustration that you’d voiced and struggled with since you learned what the emotions of hate, of contempt, truly were. 

"I don’t worry myself with what night-dwellers think of me.”

You let out an angry breath. 

"Yet you're put in a position to constantly defend yourself.”

Eris was losing his temper now, his voice growing strained as he fought to keep composure for your sake.  “I don’t enjoy aligning myself with them, but it's what's needed.”

"I would kill Beron tomorrow if you’d let me. We could do it alone."

Eris shook his head firmly. "No," he stated, his tone left no room for argument. "That is a risk I’m not going to take. Not with you, not with our mother."

"They will never see you as anything worthy of respect, Eris.”

“Their respect is not something I need,” he snapped, "When I’m fixing this court, it won’t matter.”

"It matters to me.”

There was a strain in your voice that you didn’t notice until Eris’ eyes softened. And then he was letting out a deep breath, looking at you with the hint of a frown. 

"Don’t let it.”

His voice was softer now. The same voice he’d used to soothe you during thunderstorms, the same voice that coached you through learning how to control your fire. 

"I hate them. I hate that we have to cater to them because they're our only aid right now."

"The feeling is mutual. That’s what makes this work.”

“But we have reasons to hate them," you countered, “Very valid reasons.” 

Eris sighed, a tired resignation in his tone. “They believe they have reasons, too.”

You fell silent, shaking your head in disbelief as you bit the inside of your cheek. That simmering anger still boiled beneath the surface—  the anger of feeling wronged, of being backed into a corner and then being punished for biting. 

Eris watched you closely, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"They do not matter," he reassured you. "They will never matter— not truly. We use them now, and you will never have to be near them again."

You nodded as Eris brought you into his chest, giving you a small hug as he held your head in his hand.  

But a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Deep within the corners of your mind, deep within your chest, something told you that his words were wrong. Something old— something strong. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

PART THREE

a/n: who is ready for some nasty slutty feral enemies with benefits… 😋😋 ME YALL ITS MEEEE

i was worried about writing a part w no smut but these dynamics need to be built up first 😮‍💨 its so funny to me that both her and az are like ya... i have the upperhand here.... i am winning....

enemies who actually don’t like each other >>

enemies who didn’t “always love” each other >>

enemies to forced proximity trope >>

the future of malice! az & malice! reader going from no respect towards each other to playful flirting banter >>

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

malice series tag list: @going-through-shit @sidthedollface2 @justasillylittlegoofyguy @mal-adaptive-dreams @alainabooks143 @mybestfriendmademe @sfhsgrad-blog @marina468 @wonderwomanlovesyou @the-darkestminds @circe143 @starsandsins @acourtofdreamsandshadows @ysmtttty @mendes-bae

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

I'm dreadfully in love with him

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME