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daycourtofficial · 17 days ago

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It’s just to satiate the bond

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 2.3k | warnings: smut, piv, oral (f!receiving)

Summary: an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series but can be read by itself 😌

Her teeth were grinding as she walked down the hallway, her steps getting faster, trying to put as much distance from her and the large meeting room. She had to get away, she had to hide. She moved further away from the gathering of High Lords, pushing her instincts down, down, down as she went.

It was ridiculous how her body was reacting to just being in his presence, being so close to her mate. She shook her head, angrily trying to dispel that word from it.

Her ears twitched at the sound of quick steps behind her, nearly catching up to her. She quickened her pace, almost breaking out into a run, but the male that had followed her was quick to push her into an open door, shutting it behind them.

“What the fuck, Eris? Let me out of here.”

Eris stood blocking the door, not letting her move past him. Her arms reached for the knob before quickly being swatted away.

“No.”

“What is wrong with you?” She huffed out the question, not expecting much of a reply.

“Me? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m mated to an asshole.” Being so close to him was making her head spin, his scent of whiskey and smoke made her heart rate pick up.

His amber eyes danced with amusement. “Surely you understand mates are equals, so whatever I am, so are you.”

“You are a child.”

“You are the one who ran away.”

“To get away from you!”

“How did that work out for you, princess?”

He was grating on her, annoyance causing her teeth to grind again. She tried taking in a deep breath, hoping it would calm her nerves.

“It’d work better if you weren’t keeping me in here.” Her voice attempted to make the words sweet, missing the mark they came out with too much bite.

“I have a proposition.” It was difficult being this close to him. She picked up nearly every detail about him in this proximity: the freckles that trailed beneath the color of his shirt, wondering if they continued further down. The faint scent of what must be his hounds that clung to him. The necklaces that hung from his neck, draping over ornate fabrics she wanted to run her fingers over.

“We are both less than thrilled at this mating, however I am sure you are having urges that can’t be satisfied by anyone else or yourself.” His words pulled her from the visual inspection, looking up at him to find her distraction didn’t go unnoticed.

She moved her hands across her chest, fingers tapping her elbows. She didn’t want to admit how right he was - even the sight of other males made her want to gag. Nothing and no one had satiated the intense need that thrummed inside of her since it made itself known to her.

She nodded at him to continue, but he merely stared at her. Exasperated, she finally asked, “how do you suggest we go about fixing that?”

“We need to convince our bond we are happy.”

Our bond. The words struck something primal in her, some deep desire she had to be with him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t think I can’t feel you in my chest in the middle of the night.”

“And what of it? Do the males of Autumn not want their females to know sexual desire? Rather it be unpleasant for her?”

Eris growled, the sound shooting heat through her.

“I can do more with my tongue than any male in the Night Court can do with their cocks.”

His scent was suffocating, the air around her coated with him. It was surely making her delirious, surely the only reason she heard herself saying, “prove it”.

Those two words, spoken an exhale, was all it took for the Autumn heir to move quickly.

He buried his face in her chest, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts. A soft moan escaped from her mouth, his face tilting just enough for his amber eyes to show. He looked like a true predator as starving, wolfish eyes looked back at her.

He lifted her, grabbing the backs of her thighs to hoist her around his hips before she felt the wall hit her back. There was no time to object as he stuffed two of his fingers into her mouth.

“Hush now, Princess. Would hate for your moans to expose us.” Heat pooled in her stomach at his smirk.

Eris didn’t let himself think about what he was doing as he undid the ties on his pants. He didn’t think as he slid her panties to the side, sliding his fingers through her wet folds. He bit back the groan that was making its way up his throat at how wet she was. He didn’t think as he lined his cock up to her entrance, something inside him desperate to keep her gaze on him as he did so.

He watched her violet eyes widen as he sheathed himself inside of her, nearly coming undone himself at how perfect she felt around him.

He wouldn’t think about his previous sexual encounters, never caring about who he was with. Sex was transactional, a means to an end. This was to satiate the godsdamned bond thrumming between the two of them.

He would never admit to her he had taken all his previous lovers from behind, never caring to watch them. Never admit to the stirring his cock felt watching her eyes close, swallowing her moans.

Eris felt himself getting close to that high, felt it creeping through his body as his thrusts got sloppier.

He had to take control, couldn’t allow this weakness. His fingers held her jaw tightly. , examining her eyes with each thrust.

“I hate you,” she gritted out, teeth grinding.

He thrusted hard into her, his gaze seering as he watched her eyes roll back.

“You hate me so, and yet you buck like a common whore for my prick.” His hair was falling into his face, his punishing pace making it harder to concentrate.

“Do you ever stop talking? You’d be much more likable if you did.” Her voice was high and breathy, something inside him knowing just how close she was. Their mixed arousal was pinging throughout his chest, a sensation he had never felt before.

“You weren’t worried about likability when you started dripping on my cock.”

“Fuck you.” Her eyes were closed, searching for every ounce of pleasure he was giving her.

“Aren’t you already?” Hushed words were sending both of them closer to that edge, each desperate to land just one more barb. The arrogance in Eris’s tone sent her spiraling, pleasure ripping through her in uncontrollable waves.

Eris was furiously pumping into her as she milked his cock, her high cresting as he met his own. Between their shared orgasm, there was a split second their eyes met. The vulnerability of what they just did passed through the glance, and then it was gone, locked away deep in both their souls.

Eris’s head met her shoulder, struggling to catch his breath.

“Winded there, Lord?”

He growled at the question, his fingers quickly gripping tight to her before immediately letting go. He pulled back from her, the loss of contact making his chest go heavy. His fingers quickly redid the ties of his pants, a hand moving through his long hair.

The only sound was their labored breaths, filling the room with the knowledge that they could not go back. A fact neither of them would accept.

She moved her skirts back down, desperate to cover that seed that ran down her inner thighs.

Eris moved to the door, his back to her enough for him to bring his fingers to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the remnants of her arousal on it.

“It’s just to satiate the bond.” The lie fell from her lips, something she had been telling herself over and over again over the past few weeks since that first time with Eris.

“Do you like how the bond makes you hot for me?”

The pain from the tree against her face was nothing compared to how good each of his thrusts felt.

Her fingers dug into the tree, desperate for some bit of reality to cling to. It felt absurd how common this occurrence was - meeting almost weekly now just to keep the bond inside from exploding.

It was ridiculous how many nights she spent in her bed, her fingers not enough to satisfy her as her mind drifted to the male behind her.

“Better than being eternally sad over you.”

A chuckle came from him before he thrusted deep inside her, his fingers a tight grip over her hips she was sure was going to bruise.

“How would Rhysand react to finding out his precious sister has been reduced to little more than a common whore?”

“Don’t tell me you have to think of my brother in order to get off, hmm?”

His pace was punishing at her words, their back and forths doing more to him than he wished to admit.

Long fingers wrapped around her neck, tilting her head back just enough for her to see his amber eyes full of lust. She couldn’t stop the moan coming from her mouth at the intensity of his gaze, how just the sight of his eyes and one swift thrust of his hips sent her toppling over the edge of pleasure.

His pace quickened, his thrusts working her through her orgasm until he pulled her as close as possible, emptying himself inside of her.

Eris kept looking at her, his gaze focused as she tried to catch her breath. With more effort than he anticipated, he pulled his hands away from her, helping her straighten herself off the tree.

He moved her skirts, helping her straighten them out. His hand met her waist, an almost tender touch before he quickly pulled it away.

“Next time don’t make any plans afterward. You reek of sex and have the markings to prove it.” His fingers pointed at his own face, showing a line where the bark had made indentions into her skin.

He waited, not saying anything, only nodding at her before winnowing away, leaving her stranded in the woods, confused and alone.

“I just need a taste.”

Eris Vanserra was kneeling on the ground before her, his body disappearing beneath her skirts. He was not gentle as he grabbed her leg, throwing it over his shoulder.

“Er-oh.” Protestations die on her tongue as his mouth latched onto her cunt, his tongue pressing against the cloth of her underwear.

Her strained ears could barely make out his grumbling about “coming unprepared”, his voice muffled as his tongue made long, sweeping strokes through her folds.

He was pressing his weight into her, the only thing keeping her upright against the tree as he held her in place. The woods were echoing with the obscene sounds from underneath her skirt, but she could not care less.

Suddenly Eris grabbed her other leg, leaving her hoisted against the tree, his neck her only support.

She couldn’t hold in the obscene noises coming from her mouth. One of Eris’s hands let go of her thighs and she could hear him fiddling with the ties of his pants.

“Eris, you filthy thing. Are you touching yourself while you eat me out?”

A growl was all her retort was met with, a bite to her clit making her practically climb up the tree.

He was moaning into her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her.

A biting quip was on the tip of her tongue, replaced by a moan as Eris’s fingers pushed the cloth to the side, rubbing his nose through her folds. His usual sharp tongue laid flat as he licked a long stripe across her heat. She shuddered at the sensation, trying to hold off her orgasm for as long as possible. The bond inside her was thrumming, bursting with joy at being pleasured by her mate.

Her hips were desperate as they rode across his face, thighs squeezing his head to keep him in place.

The sound of Eris pumping his cock into his hand was pushing her past her limits, their weekly rendezvous leading her to know exactly how it felt in her chest when he came.

Her high was quickly squashed as he pulled away from her, causing her to fall unceremoniously onto the ground. She let out a soft gasp, both pain and surprise unable to be contained.

“What are you-“ She looked up, chastisement at the ready, only to find her mate gone, nowhere to be found. She stood on shaky legs, using the tree as a support, not wanting to admit the disappointment that followed her as she left.

The ground was wet beneath her skirts, the tree biting into her back as she waited. The air was cold and uninviting, as if no one should be out in it without a coat or a lover’s embrace. She tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest, telling herself, “it’s fine.”

She waited. Minutes quickly turned into an hour, the moon high in the clearing above. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms at the late hour. The bond hummed lightly in her chest, nerves too strong to find out the consequences of pulling it.

Were these daliances getting to her, meaning much more than they should? He was supposed to arrive hours ago. He had never left her waiting this long.

Worry consumed her, but the everpresent bond assured her that he was out there somewhere, fine with the distance that lay between them.

She had never waited this long for a male to show up to a date before. She stopped that line of thinking quickly, shutting it down. Reminding herself this is not a date.

She sighed, rejection and embarrassment coming off her in waves. Her chest felt hollow as she looked about the clearing one last time, desperate for any sign she missed him before winnowing far, far away.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

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Thanks for reading ❣️

#gingerfucker #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut

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prythianpages · 10 months ago

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A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features.

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself. “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?”

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination.

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner.

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother.

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris.

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you.

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped.

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought.

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image.

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice. “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars. “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes. “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment.

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering.

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought.

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend.

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment.

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged. There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

“I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks. “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons.

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris imagine #eris one shot #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar one shot #acotar!abba #eris vandaddy #eris angel au

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n0t-y0ur-piece-0f-cake · 3 months ago

Note

Hiiiiii how are you? I wanted to ask if you could do a super spicey one shot where a male yautja ends up stalking a group of girls and having his way with them in various ways, one by one but then when he finally gets to the reader he ends favoring the reader more than the other girls and ends up breeding reader until the next morning and after that he decided she was gonna be his mate 😏

A night to remember

Summary: girls night out went absolutely wrong.

Fem reader x male yautja

Warnings: NSFW, omfg where do I start, uhhh, rape/noncon, breeding, alien in a rut, drugging, violence, death, implied forced pregnancy,,,

MDNI MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

For everyone else, read at own risk.

Not proof read, English isn't my first language and this was written at 1 am.

Authors note: my first reaction when I read that request was literally 🤨🫢🫣😈 I never thought I could be capable of writing this, but it helped me through my writers block, thx <3

Preparations were always hard. But the worse was long done. Now it was only make up that was left. Tonight's Friday night. The Friday night. Where me, Michelle and Tina finally got ready for our girls night out. We planned that date for so long - Prepared for so long. The parties theme at our local club was "warrior". So the girls and me obviously had to go all overboard. It didn't matter if we went overdressed or too hard. This was and is going to be some quality time. We had so much fun putting together our costumes. Even tho it was still obvious they were part dresses still.

Tina's get up was leaning more for a samurai. Shoulderpats, chest plate - yet still revealing, and a kimono type dress - also still revealing.

Michelle was more inspired by knights. Her dress was complement nicely by a chain top and some more sliver plates on her arms and legs. As well as a cute half helmet with a gracious yellow feather. Overall not too revealing, but the dress was still short enough to almost pop her butt out.

I on the other hand? I went for something more primal. Like a hunter. A hunter you'd see in a deep forest in the stone ages. I knew all the fur would bite me in the ass at the club, but it was worth it, of course it wasnt all fur. Just a big patch of fur over my shoulder. The rest? A sweet brown dress, showing off my thighs and what was still visible of my collarbone. I even went so far and got myself a necklace with sharp teeth and some Ambers. Not sure if either were real. It was second hand. I put on some last details for my make up. Painting some face markings.

We were now ready to go.

"Wait! Hold up", Tina basically shouted out, as Michelle grabbed her heels. We all looked at Tina. She held up her arms and looked at us with a devious smile.

"We have to get a shot in, just to celebrate"

Michelle shook her head. "Come on, Tina. It's not that pricey at the club."

I looked between the two. Sighing with a smile: "But we've got to celebrate. Now that Tina's moving away."

Tina jumped up, like a kid, begging over and over. "Pleaaaaase - for me? This once, Michelle?"

Michelle was never fond of drinking before hand. Drinking in general even, only on special occasions.

Michelle places her heels back down. Giving up, for Tina's sake. Tina giggled and turned back to the kitchen. Smacking three shot glasses on the table like she's a bartender. A samurai bartender. Michelle and I smirked with Tina. When she pulled put her vodka, our eyes widen. This really was a special occasion. It was her 10 Liter vodka bottle, that she never opened. That shit cost her a fortune.

We watched as Tina opened the bottle, it emitted a cracking sound. Yes. Freshly open. It was untouched. Until now. She carefully shifted the bottle, trying to hit the shot glasses. It already made her look like she was drunk, spilling the vodka left and right. We all giggled. Tina let out a more nervous one. I couldn't watch her struggle any longer. So I held the two glasses up to the bottles head. Making it easier to pour. Michelle took the last glass and also then held it under the head. Now all three were full and each placed in a hand. We looked at each other.

"To Tina", Michelle said, holding up the small glass up and to our middle.

"To Tina." We all said out like a record. Drinking it in one go. Nothing at first. But then a weird taste emerged. I wasn't really used to pure vodka. Michelle, not at all. She coughed. But quickly swallowed her cough as quick as it came. We all chuckled together again.

"I could go for another one... now that it's open...", the bottle owner said, swaying her hip from side to side.

"No." It came out like a choir from us.

"We gotta get there before 8, otherwise, who knows how full it'll be tonight", I said, already going for the small hallway to grab my heels. Tina soon following with Michelle.

The streets were quiet. Some passerbys still on their way to wherever. We had to pass through a small patch of forest. It was lit. Michelle would have driven. If she wouldn't have drunk something. Michelle struggled in her highheels. Almost tripping every meter due to the uneven ground. So me and Tina went to each of her side. Supporting her. We finally reached the club. A big snake already formed upfront.

Tina scoffed. "Great. Are we too late already? It's not even 8 yet."

As we approached I looked at the snake of people. They didn't move at all. As we stood there at the end now too, I noticed that they didn't even open up yet. A quick glance at my phone showed me, that it was just 7:55. "We're not late, we're even too early-"

I was cut off by Michelle pointing out the variety of costumes. Tina joining in. I looked up. Yes. We were definitely not overdressed. We fit right in.

"This one's definitely a cosplayer", Michelle said.

"A good one at that", Tina chuckled. I turned my head. Looking at who they were talking about. A woman, must be around our age. She didn't dress revealing at all. It was a full set of armor. Maybe that was foam. Who knows.

I chuckled out: "Are we underdressed?"

We all laughed at that.

Finally it was time. And exactly on the clock, the security guy finally let the people in. Another one arrived, helping out, due to the long snake. He must have been waiting anyways.

After a good 15 minutes, we were up. Showing our ID, the insides of our small bags, pockets. I was good to go. Michelle too. "That's gonna be a great night", said one of the security guards as he checked Tina's matching bag. Giving it her back, she smiled at him. She was also good to go.

We turned to her. Confused. She caught on to our mimics. "Oh. Just a couple of bucks."

Inside the party hasn't fully started. No one was yet on the dance floor. More like trying to get settled and drunk enough to try and dance. We grabbed a table. Looking over the room. After some talk about Tina's plans for her new apartment she got silent. We were silent. We already told her so many times that we'll miss her. She knows that. I hope she knows that.

"I'll be right back"

She said. Turning away.

"Where are you going?", I asked her. Having to talk louder due to the booming music and her now being a bit further away.

She mouthed something that neither me or Michelle heard. Michelle shrugged. I looked around again.

"Well. Guess I should leave this shithole too, like Tina."

Michelle furrowed her eyebrows at my comment. "No you won't. Who am I gonna ball my eyes out with at the McDonalds in the drive in, after I had another shitty relationship?"

I look at Michelle surprised with a smirk. "So you admit your ex was a douche?" She rolls her eyes. Not saying another word about that topic: "just don't leave. It's already enough that Steelheaded-Tina is moving away."

Speaking of her, she finally returns. With three neon green, toxic, probably so unhealthy cocktails in her hands. She places them down in the middle of the table. A smirk so wide it's almost unsettling. It's so obvious that she really wants this night to be great. We start sipping on them. Talking about God knows what. Eventually we decided to make our way to the dance floor. Tina wasn't quite done with her drink yet. Still half way. Michelle and I already ready to go.

"Guys wait-", Michelle said, "I'll make a break for the bathroom, Tina, you better zip that unholy brewery up so we can dance after."

I look at Michelle, worried. "Want me to tag along?" Michelle shook her head. "Nah, I'm good."

With that she left. A man and a woman approached us, not long after. They started talking to me and Tina. The man seemed especially interested in Tina.

The woman turned to me. Leaning in closer to my ear after I couldn't understand her first try to talk to me.

"Do you have a tampon?" "Oh yeah"

I said. I always had one. Especially at a party. You never know. I open my bag, searching for it, in the corner of my eye, I spotted how Tina and the guy faced the dance floor. The guys hand on the table. I looked back at the now found tampon and gave it to her. She thanked me. Turning away to reach the bathroom. I looked back at Tina and the guy. They now faced each other again. He was obviously flirting, judging by his face and Tina's reactions. I couldn't hear them at all. It was too loud.

Michelle came back. Rolling her eyes at Tina and her new found partner for tonight. She was as amused as me. But deep down we were both still worried. The guy invited Tina to dance. She said yes, as they both went to the dance floor, we quickly stepped on it too, keeping a close eye on Tina.

Everything went fine up until a bit later. We noticed Tina being more tipsy. More unfocused. I gave Michelle a frown, she also caught up to my sightings. As we looked back where Tina and the guy just were, we were surprised in to see it now vacated by another person.

Our dance came out a abrupt end. Quickly glancing around the room. We spotted them. He tried to pull Tina out of the club, to the exit. Through the mass we pushed ourself through. I was first who made it out, pulling Tina to me. She almost crashed down, if it weren't for Michelle coming up in the right moment to support her as well.

The guy looked at us. Obviously distraught by us intervening. "I just wanted to get her some air."

Michelle and I looked at him. "Yeah right, fuck off." I scoffed out loud. Security already noticing the situation.

"Everything okay?"

We turned our heads to the security guard. Explaing what happened. The guard pulled the guy aside. Telling us to still get Tina outside and let her sit with us until he investigated the guy.

Indeed we sat. On a bench. Waiting. Another security guard was nice enough to give us a bottle of water. Which we made Tina drink, even tho she said she doesn't need it. After a while the other guard came back out. With a sigh he tried to tell us in a most neutral way, that he found some knock out drops a hidden pouch of the guys costume. I tried to remember. Yes. When the guy was at our table, Tina wasn't don't with her drink yet. Only before she hit the dance floor she drank. Shit.

The guy tells us to get Tina home. Maybe call a cab. If her state worsens then maybe even a ambulance. He also told us he'll make sure the police knows about that guy, and he won't ever get in again. No matter the outcome of what the police says. He asked for our numbers, in case the police has any further questions in the coming days.

With that, we were let go.

We phoned the cabs. All of them said they couldn't make it in less than an hour. So we decided to walk ourselves. We'd be home faster. We were three people. But only one completely out of it. This was a quiet town, we told ourselves. The woods were lit, so it was okay, we told ourselves. We walked.

As we reached the woods, Michelle couldn't really walk and support Tina at the same time. So after a few meters she decided to take her heels off. We were slower. But steady. Tina was being held steady.

Now that we were slower, I took in the sounds of the night. The sounds of the dark forest. The chirping of the crickets. The owl hooing. And the slight fresh breeze pushing against us. At least my fur covered shoulder wasn't getting cold.

I looked at Michelle and Tina. Tina almost asleep, yet still walking. Michelle was exhausted. Her face a bit pained from the heel-less walking. I faced back at the path. I tried to focus on what was ahead of us. Our surroundings. But... was I getting deaf? I can still clearly hear Michelle and Tina walking. But I didn't hear any cricket. No owl. The wind was still there. I felt as if the air got heavier. The owl started hooing again. Maybe I was just tired, too unfocused.

We kept walking. Half way there. The lights in the woods path, were still lit. I glanced at my watch again, as Michelle also stopped walking, taking a break. 11pm. As I waited for Michelle to gather her strength again, Tina woke up slowly from her half asleep state. Being all giggly and seeming like a high person. I took a deep breath in. Focusing on my surroundings. We have to get her to safety. The crickets and owl were still at it. Then, a crack. Silence. I assumed the animals would start again, but, the owl took flight. Flying over and away from us. I felt the aid get heavy again. I felt nervous.

"Can we keep walking?" I said, almost stuttering. Almost begging Michelle. Tina jumped off and away from our arms. "Let's camp!"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "No Tina, we can camp at your place. Where we should be right now."

Tina wanted to say something, but we were cut off by a net being launched at me and Michelle. We were trapped. Tina chuckled as she looked at us. "Spidermaaaaaaan"

Michelle was the first one to try and rip open the net, followed by me. "Looksy! I see you, handsome!", Tina cooed, she was turned away from us, pointing into the tree line, where the net came from. Our eyes already somewhat used to the dark, spotted a shape. A man? Michelle now engaged in trying to rip apart the net even more. I looked at the figure, trying to see them better. But it moved all of the sudden, launching himself with a uncanny jump towards the free standing Tina. Snatching her right up. She was pulled into the bushes. We heard it all rustle. "Oooh- manly man-", Tina cooed again, the silhouette of them indicating, she's tracing his stomach.

I helped Michelle. The net seemed unbreakable. Our initial shock calming down slowly, making us finally able to talk. "Oh my fucking god- TINA RUN!"

Michelle yelled. She was in my vision, I couldn't see what she saw. What happened with Tina or who that was.

"That is not a man!" She kept yelling.

"But he's so-" a loud scream emitted from Tina. I pushed Michelle aside as we both yelled out for her. Who or whatever it was, I pushed Tina against a tree. It's form seeming to ram its hips into her. Her screams were parallel with its thrusts. I panicked. Digging under the net with my bare hands. Michelle joined in, but she mined away the dirt with her heel.

"Wait we have a phone-" I went to grab where my bag was. But the bag was outside the net. I leaned against it, trying to reach it, pulling the hard working Michelle with me. She was caught off guard by my sudden move, making her drop. "Hey!"

No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get to my bag. Even when I pushed so hard against the net, it left markings on me. Michelle caught on to me, reaching for her bag that she wore. Pulling out her phone. "THIS MOTHERFUCKER!" She starred at her screen. Empty. Trying to shut it on again, but it shut right back down before 911 could even be dialed. In a fit or more rage and desperation she smashed her phone on a rock. It shattered on the third try. She used the now smashed phone to cut the net. I took a shard as well and also tried to cut it. The yelling and screaming from Tina has stopped. Whatever it was, it wasn't human and it growled in relief.

I made it, I cut through. I quickly squeezed myself through the still somewhat smal gap I made. I ran, a trident was launched at me. Thankfully not piercing me as a tree was there, making me pinned up by the neck against it. My head was too big to try and squeeze my way out, and the trident was launched to deeply into the tree. Michelle had squeezed out too, running for me, trying to undo the trident holding me hostage. My eyes widen, the creature walked up to us. In the dim light, I myself saw, that that was no human. No animal. But a creature. Otherworldly. It wore what seemed to helmet and armor. I screamed out. Altering Michelle.

She tuned her head. I pushed her. "MICHELLE RUN-"

Michelle looked back at me, unsure. But I pushed her again. So she ran. The creature running after her now. Knowing I was pinned. I pushed against the trident again, my sweaty palms making it difficult to hold on. Or it was just launched to deep. Or both. I looked back at where Michelle had ran to. Only to see that the creature had caught up to her. Having her pinned down. She was gasping, crying. It had her pinned by the hip. I panicked again, as it kept smashing against her hips in a unholy force, making her cry and beg, I turned around, facing the tree and pushing my neck against the trident. Thank god it wasn't sharp. I pushed and pushed. It hurt so much, but I did it, I fell back, the top of the trident scraping against my exposed shoulder and arm. The furred shoulder was fine. I didn't mind the blood. I picked up the trident, looked into the direction Tina was, I couldn't belive my eyes.

She was dead. Her thigh, and neck bruised and bloodied. Only then realising, that her body and head didn't add up. It twisted her head and broke her neck.

I took my eyes off her, facing to Michelle and that... creature. I quickly ran towards them, at first it didn't seem to notice me. But as he did, shortly before I could react in time, he got up, I quickly jolted the trident to the side, falling a bit on Michelle. In the short second I laid on her, my head next to hers, it seemed she was still breathing, but barely.

The creature tried to get ahold of the trident. Grabbing it, and pulling it away from me. But I held it firmly. It started to slip from my hands as it used more force. So I quickly pulled my legs up and kicked against the tridents pole, stabbing it at it with my full force. It didn't hit him directly, but a spot that wasn't covered by its armor. It bled. Green. Neon green. As it tried to recover from its injury, I ran. Following the lights, I noticed heavy stomps behind me. They were quick. Close. I didn't dare look behind me. I knew it was... that.

I decided in a frenzy, that maybe jumping between trees might slow it down. So I went off rail, going zick zack between the trees. It seemed to help. For a while. I was still close to the paths lights, just enough so I could see. Just my luck that I spotted a axe in front of me. I abruptly stopped, grabbed it, and swung out. It jolted back, I almost hit it. Almost.

It roared out, angry, I flinched, but still held the axe steady. I once again tried to launch it at him, several times in a span of seconds. It nicked him twice. It growled and roared again, getting more and more agitated, out of no where it kicked me off my legs, making me fall down, before I could react, it grabbed my axe, as well as me, I hit a tree while I stood, a loud thuck boomed next to my ear. The axe was at my neck. I felt out a shaky gasp. I tried to look behind me, but my head was quickly pushed into the tree by its hand. The other toying with my underwear before ripping it off fully, with a single yank.

It got all close. Shoving my hips upwards and off the ground. It didn't matter to it, that it hurt me in that position. My spine felt over stretched. As well did my stomach and soon something else.

I felt its hips shuffle around, the armor plate in front of its crotch scooting over to so he could insert its otherworldly cock. No warning, no lube, no spit. That thing tore me apart with one shove. I screamed out, so high pitched you'd think I was in a Opera trying to destroy a glass. But my high pitch was soon replaced by deep screams, gasped screams. I was trying to get air. My one arm, I pressed against the tree, trying to not get myself killed whenever he pushed back in and could break my neck by this position he had me. The other was at his thigh, rather my fingertips, trying to prevent him from going to rough or too deep. Which was a lost cause. He, whatever he was, was too strong.

He kept pushing and pushing, his speed and force altered from time to time. Already making me see starts. I was already exhausted. Its grip on my head was now a tiny bit more gentle. Letting me look down. There I saw a green-white hued liquid. Which must be what I was thinking. It slowed. As it did so, my hip jolted from all that he's put me through. But to him, it must have been like invitation to keep going. He yanked me around. Facing him, still off the ground. He disposed of the axe by throwing it on the ground.

Before I could try to kick him, punch him, or anything, he held me up, in the air. No tree I could support myself on now. My hips hovered over his. And he let them crash down on his. I whimpered out again, it didn't hurt as much anymore. My fists were on his chest, I was still trying to push him away. As his hips kept rolling against mine, his clawed hand reached up to the brim of my dress, ripping it off. My boobs jiggling intensly with every deeper and faster thrust. I still pushed against him, he grabbed me by the waist and hip, his large hand being able to hold a, to him smaller creature, up like that. I saw the lit path upside down. He kept up his pace, even going rougher. Weirdly enough it felt so good, so good I let out a long restrained moan. No. I can't enjoy this.

But this feeling. Being stretched, filled out fully... the way he hits every spot. Another moan escaped my lips. My fists, now unclenched, grabbing at his stomach armor. His pace picked up. Thinking I'm trying to tell him to speed up. With that my body shivered throughout, I quickly sat myself up again on his hip, one of my hands grabbing at his shoulder. His monstrous pace not decreasing.

I leaned my head against the crook of his neck. The corners of my eyes turned black. And I screamed as I came undone on him. As I painted the green-white hued liquid on the ground with my own as well.

He still kept up the pace, not letting me recover. I insides clenched around his cock, I needed to recover but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. He now placed his arms on my shoulder. Pinning me to him as he needed to get his rut out. I moaned and whimpered against his neck, everything went more dark by each push. I didn't recognise anything anymore. Just how he felt in me. How he pushed his seed deeper and further up. I didn't know how many times he came. How long he's been going at it.

I woke up again. I was dropped down somewhat gently on the ground. Sat up on the damn tree. I looked down at myself. As he stood before me. Whenever I moved a muscle, as I tried to get up, a big drop of his green-white cum emitted from my pussy. It even appeared that my stomach was more bloated. My thighs being covered in all that liquid. I looked up at him, behind his head, were the trees heads, exposing the now dawning morning sun. Its been that long!?

I watched as he picked up the axe, then me. Me? I was swung over his shoulder. My stomach pressed against it, making more cum blurt out. He walked deeper into the woods. I was too weak to do anything. Too exhausted. He stopped, I looked over his shoulders. My eyes widen at the sight. A otherworldly craft. A vehicle. A ufo? A ufo. And he carried me inside. Setting me down on a chair in the cockpit, putting on what seemed to be seat belts. "Mate", it said in a scratchy growling voice. He turned away from me and started his ship.

My heart stopped. That sure was a night I won't ever forget.

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frostironfudge · 1 year ago

Text

Devour - Bucky Barnes

Summary: the new pics of seb have me in a vice grip so here is Bucky on a Mediterranean getaway with you

Pairing: mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 880

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sm/ut, or/al fem receiving, dirt/y talk, allusions to previous smu/tty times, d/s vibes, sorta mafia bucky?, sorta soft moments, also prinţesă means princess (romanian)

A/N: this picture got everything to life for this drabble @sebsgirl71479 thank you for this picture

Main Masterlist

The heat is sweltering.

Drops of sweat mimic the condensation on your pink drink’s glass. Taking another sip you grumble the ice watering down the sweet and sour concoction.

“Something amiss?” Bucky’s tone is light teasing from behind you.

“Drinks all watered down.” You pout, still not turning to look at him, too comfortable in the lounge chair, kindle resting on your thigh.

The breeze finally comes in drawing out a sigh from you and your eyes close. Soon enough the sun’s heat diminishes and your breath hitches.

The scent of amber and bergamot fills your senses urging your eyes open. Bucky leans over you, gold sunglasses perched atop his head.

Your eyes trail over his stubble growing in, as he swallows you watch his throat and then follow that trail to the necklace that half dangles still caught in his white tank top.

That same necklace that grazed your kiss bitten lips last night, soothing the heat spreading over your skin.

An easy smile on his face, his ring clinks against the glass. “Here,” he says handing you the replacement drink and he stands, “Can’t have my best girl pouting can I?”

You roll your eyes and he pinches your cheek a habit he formed early on both out of endearment and knowing it annoys you.

You admire his outfit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Fuck the drink you want to drink your man in.

“See something you like prinţesă? You have that look on your face.” Azure eyes that put the Mediterranean seas to shame glint with mischief.

“Oh, I see something I love.” You flirt back, admiring the way his eyes crinkle as his grin takes over.

“A moment ago,” He returns to his original spot, the one where he hovered over you.

“You seemed as though you saw something you want to devour.” He smirks, head dipped low, lips brushing below your ear, you whimper.

The pendant of his necklace brushes over your sternum. Cold against warm.

“Bucky—,” Your words meld into a moan when his lips trail down your neck, he leaves open mouthed kisses and your hands find his shirt tugging on it wanting him closer.

“A little temptress in this swimsuit of yours,” his larger palm traces from your knee up your thigh and you arch but he only continues over your body till he pinches your hardened nipple through the fabric, “Fuck.”

He reclined the lounge chair further back, caging you in, your leg now wrapped around him.

Bucky’s lips are on yours, needy, frantic, cock straining against his pants and your hands wandering but pulling him closer.

He chuckles into the kiss as your fingers aid in the fall of his sunglasses and his hair coming loose from the bun. He loves how needy you become for him.

How beautiful you look sun kissed and kiss bitten from the night before all of his marks proudly displayed across your chest, shoulder, the one he left on your inner thigh.

Bucky growls as a particular grind of his hips makes you moan as your clit begs for more attention.

“Please, Bucky, please,” You plead pushing the soft blue shirt off of his shoulders.

“Want to taste you, my temptress.” He cups your jaw, thumb stroking your lips, you suck on the tip of his finger.

“I want to taste you too.” You nip at the flesh, Bucky smirks above you.

“I’d have whipped this outfit out sooner.” He laughs when you huff frustrated, then groans as you grind your hips to his, smirking up at him when he affixes you with a pointed glare to behave.

“I’ll eat you out right here, prinţesă.” He says in warning, hand moving to cup your mound. He can feel the heat of your skin, his own favourite concoction waiting between your thighs.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” You raise a brow, “Because if I remember right, no one else sees what belongs to the White Wolf.”

His eyes blaze with something deeper than lust, his possessiveness and protectiveness for you a known fact in his ruthless world.

“Hmm, well if anyone does see,” He kisses your cheek, then trails his lips down your neck, over your chest the warmth of his mouth preceded by the cool necklace over your abdomen. Bucky settles between your thighs, pushing them apart but pulling you close.

Nose brushing over your clothed cunt and the sight is so erotic you can’t help but moan.

“If anyone does see you pleading and pleasing me they know you are mine temptress. As they should.”

The fabric is peeled away and your folds are soaked, he hums pleased before his tongue runs over your aching cunt.

You keen as his lips latch onto your clit, your fingers tangle in Bucky’s hair.

“Which one of us is in for a treat?” Bucky questions rhetorically as you tremble beneath him, his rings digging into your thighs.

Bucky moans, at your taste, “We’re to remain here my temptress. I want to have my fill. You will give me how ever many I want won’t you?”

You nod.

“My good fucking girl.” He praises, mouth back on you, your moans pleasing his ears and your taste satiating as well as growing his hunger for you.

-x-x-x-x-

Bucky Taglist: @slutforsexyseabass @almostcontentcreator @stevesmewmew

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poisonlove · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I'm gonna ask anyway.

(Wednesday Addams x female reader)

Reader gets Wednesday a black necklace with a miniature dagger on it for her birthday. While Wednesday secretly loves the gift, she acts like she does not care for the gift. However, she wears it all the time. One day, when she comes into her dorm, she finds the necklace missing and practically hunts down the whole school to find it. Wednesday almost kills someone to get it. Reader sees her acting crazy to find something, and when she asks what it is, she has no choice but to tell her. It ends cute with fluff at the end

I can't write it myself, so I need help❤️

Happy birthday | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Status: request

Advertising: fluffy, wednesday cry

Author: sorry for this end

"Happy birthday, Wed," I say with a small smile on my lips.

We were at the only café in Jericho, celebrating Wednesday Addams' 17th birthday. Enid had dragged her there, promising the gothic brunette that it wasn't a birthday party but something strange she wanted to show her.

As soon as Wednesday walked into the café and saw her friends—Thing, Xavier, Eugene, Tyler, and Enid's boyfriend—she shot a glare at her roommate.

"I told you no party," she hissed, but Enid beamed at her.

"This doesn't count as a party," Enid replied, trying to reassure her.

With a resigned sigh, Wednesday approached the table.

"Happy birthday, Addams," Xavier said, grinning ear to ear.

Wednesday didn't even respond.

Wednesday's brown eyes locked onto mine, staring intensely as if trying to read my thoughts.

"I thought at least you wouldn't be involved," she murmured slowly, coldly.

Embarrassment flushed my cheeks.

"It was Enid's idea," I quickly apologized, blushing deeply under Addams' accusatory gaze.

"You know I hate birthdays," Wednesday said, unfazed.

"Think of it as an event bringing you closer to death," I suggested, shivering slightly.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, considering it for a moment. "Interesting perspective. Though death is the only event I eagerly await, it doesn't make birthdays any less... unbearable."

I smiled shyly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, at least you have an excuse to receive gifts."

"I detest gifts," she retorted, a touch of coldness in her voice. "They're just useless symbols of unwanted affection."

"I know," I admitted, briefly looking away. "But sometimes it's nice to receive something just because someone cares about you."

Wednesday stared at me intensely, as if trying to read between the lines of my words. "Feelings are overrated," she declared, but there was a slight hesitation in her voice.

The brunette walked slowly towards me and sat down next to me. Wednesday's Notes of Amber and Wood perfume reached my nostrils, and I almost closed my eyes in appreciation.

Enid approached us with enthusiasm, her blue eyes shining brighter than usual."Happy birthday, Weddy," the blonde chirped, almost screaming. I smiled tenderly, watching as Enid rushed towards Addams and hugged her quickly.

Wednesday closed her eyes, enduring her friend's affection.

"You don't mind if we got you gifts, right?" Enid almost asked with guilt, and Wednesday sighed loudly.

"No," she muttered through gritted teeth.

I chuckled timidly, and Wednesday kicked me under the table, silencing me and making me bite my lip hard from the pain.

"I think the whole school knows that you are a girl who likes things like death and torture..." Enid begins shyly.

"Too much," Xavier comments amused.

"So Ajax and I wanted to give you this," says Enid nervously, handing over a package wrapped in black paper.

Wednesday took the package with deliberate slowness, carefully observing every detail of the wrapping. With a precise motion, she slid a nail along the edge of the black paper, meticulously peeling off the adhesive tape. She didn't tear the paper but opened it carefully, as if performing a ritual. Finally, she extracted the contents revealing a romantic novel.

She looked up in confusion and stared intently at the blonde.

"We thought it would be torture for you to read it," the blonde said, and Wednesday smiled imperceptibly.

"Thank you," she said seriously.

Other gifts followed: Tyler gave her a coupon to order her favorite drink for free for a week, Eugene a jar of honey, and Xavier a book on various torture methods.

Wednesday glanced at me sideways, and I shrugged indifferently. I tried to hide my nervousness and continued to maintain eye contact with Wednesday. The latter, seeing nothing strange, returned to look at her friends.

I sighed with relief: I wanted to give her the gift later without anyone around.

At midnight, Wednesday's birthday party had officially become unbearable for the birthday girl, and she asked to return to Nevermore. We walked silently towards Wednesday's and Enid's room, although the latter had gone to sleep with Ajax.

Silence surrounded us, and the gift I had in my pocket burned with each passing second.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants and swallowed loudly.

"What's wrong with you?" Wednesday casually asks in front of me.

How did she notice?

"Nothing," I mutter timidly, nervously chuckling.

We arrive in front of her room door, and the brunette turns to look at me curiously. My eyes fix on her face illuminated by the faint moonlight, making me blush recklessly. I had feelings for Wednesday for some time now and hoped Addams wouldn't notice.

"When you laugh in this way you hide something," Wednesday says seriously.

Damn.

"Um..." I start nervously, my heart beating fast against my chest.

"I also have a gift for you," I say timidly.

"Y/n/n," the brunette whispers.

"It's nothing," I immediately justify, knowing Wednesday's general dislike for gifts, especially fancy ones.

I take the small box out of my pocket and hand it to Wednesday, trembling slightly.

Wednesday takes the box with the same meticulous care she applies to every gesture. Her long fingers delicately grasp the adhesive tape and peel it off with surgical precision. The paper unfolds under her hands like petals of a blooming flower, revealing the content. Her cold, calculating brown eyes rest on the black necklace with the tiny miniature dagger.

Despite her habit of hiding emotions, for a brief but intense moment a spark of interest passes through her eyes. Her expression doesn't change, but there's something in the tilt of her head, in the way she holds the necklace between her fingers, that suggests a subtle almost imperceptible appreciation.

"It's... an innocent gift, I swear," my cheeks turn red. "It's an old family heirloom," I justify.

Wednesday looks up from the gift and stares at me intensely. Her face is a mask of impassivity.

She says nothing but moves closer and hugs me timidly, a surprisingly tender gesture for her. The contact makes me hold my breath, and my heart seems to want to explode from my chest. Then, with a light movement, she kisses me on the cheek.I stand still, almost incredulous at what just happened.

Wednesday withdraws, her face still impassive but with a slight warmth in her cheeks.

She was embarrassed.

"Thank you," she murmurs. Then she puts the gift in her pocket and enters her room, closing the door behind her.

I stand there for a moment, trying to process everything. The silence of the hallway envelops me, but inside me, I feel a whirlwind of emotions. I bring a hand to my cheek, still warm from Wednesday's kiss, and smile shyly.

(...)

Days passed slowly, turning into months, and Wednesday remained the enigmatic and somewhat peculiar figure typical of the Addams family.

Despite the time that had passed, I had never seen her wear the necklace I had given her. Initially, I felt disappointed, but then I realized I couldn't blame her. Perhaps I had overstated its importance, making it something too sophisticated and not suited to her style. Maybe for her, it was simply an object of little interest, if not outright distasteful.

I didn't reveal my disappointment because I harbored deep feelings for her. I wanted to continue being her best friend, as I always had been, even though my heart sometimes fluttered in the face of her coldness.

One day, Wednesday's behavior took a completely anomalous turn, and I began to worry seriously about her.

I saw her walking through the school with palpable agitation, scrutinizing every corner, lifting vases, and searching through the garden's grass and fountain. It was clear she was searching for something with an almost frightening determination.

I was so worried that even Enid, usually impassive in the face of Wednesday's eccentricities, seemed unsettled. When I finally managed to talk to her, Enid confided that Wednesday had literally torn apart their room, searching everywhere with excessive fury.

"I swear, y/n, it was terrifying," Enid told me nervously. "I simply asked what she was looking for, and Wednesday yelled at me and pushed me out of the room," she continued, her voice trembling, "and if I had insisted, she would have killed me," she concluded, terrified for her life.

Enid quickly waved goodbye and walked away from me, probably wanting to escape Wednesday's wrath.

It was clear that something serious was happening.

I couldn't understand what could have triggered such a reaction in Wednesday, but the anxiety was starting to affect me too.I decided to walk towards Addams' room, eager to talk to her and understand what was going on.

As I approached, I noticed something glinting in a corner, behind a statue. I raised an eyebrow with curiosity, cautiously approaching. It was the necklace I had given Wednesday.I picked it up and carefully put it in my pocket.

I wanted to meet Wednesday and try to understand what was happening. I also hoped she could give me explanations about why she had thrown away the necklace I had given her; she could have at least returned it.

I walked towards Wednesday's room and raised an eyebrow in confusion, seeing the door half-open, accompanied by a deafening noise coming from inside.

I opened the door slowly and found myself facing a scene of total chaos: overturned beds, the desk turned over with scattered objects everywhere, clothes strewn on the floor, papers scattered everywhere.

I even saw a T-shirt on the window.

It was such complete disorder that it left me speechless for a moment, wondering what could have caused all this in Wednesday's usually tidy room.

Wednesday was hunched over her bed, with Things by her side. "No, Things, I don't care if we've already looked under the bed, help me," she said desperately.

What on earth was she looking for?

"Wednesday?" I called out in confusion.

The gothic girl tensed slowly and turned to look at me. I widened my eyes seeing her bloodshot eyes, mascara running down and marking her cheeks.

She had been crying.

I immediately approached her; why she had thrown away the necklace didn't matter to me now.

Wednesday looked at me with seriousness and anguish, her arms wrapping around my neck in a suddenly needy embrace. The warmth of her body made me shiver, a sensation contrasting with the intensity of the situation.

"Enid told me you were looking for something..." I said, my voice muffled by her embrace."Why didn't you tell me?" I added gently, trying to understand what was troubling her so deeply.

"I could have helped you," I added with a smile that I hoped would reassure her.

Wednesday withdrew slightly and looked at me with eyes reflecting palpable sadness.

"I didn't want... to disappoint you," she confessed, lowering her gaze.

"Why?" I asked, confused and curious about her thoughts.

Wednesday seemed to struggle with herself, a visible conflict in her gaze. After a long moment of silence, she decided to reveal the truth.

"I lost your necklace," she admitted, avoiding my gaze and staring at her shoes with evident discomfort.

So that's what she was looking for...

I smiled broadly and chuckled to myself, confusing Wednesday. The gothic girl stared intensely at me, her eyes darkening at my demeanor, visibly annoyed. Without saying a word, I pulled out the necklace from my pocket, and Wednesday's eyes widened in surprise.

"Where did you find it?" she asked curiously, her tone serious."Behind a statue," I murmured timidly, smiling at the brunette girl.

" I thought you had thrown it away... After all, I've never seen you wear it," I confessed shyly.

Wednesday took the necklace and turned her back to me, moving her braids aside and tilting her neck.

"Will you put it on me?" she asked timidly.

I smiled nervously and timidly approached her, my trembling hands fastening the necklace around her neck over the W necklace that her mother had given her.

Wednesday turned around and looked up to meet my gaze.

"I've always had it... I just didn't want anyone to think I really cared," she confessed quickly.

I knew Wednesday wanted to maintain her reputation as the strange girl at all costs, so I wasn't surprised by her choice to hide it. I looked at Wednesday with curiosity, a small smile creeping onto my lips as I noticed her cheeks blush slightly.

I decided to lighten the mood.

"I'll help you tidy up the room," I said timidly, giving Wednesday a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Never do that again," she said, embarrassed.

"What if I do?" I teased, and Wednesday looked at me calmly.

We began to tidy up the room together; I picked up papers from the floor, sorted some clothes where I found a hoodie I had lent her months ago, while Wednesday organized the desk and her bed.

"Y/n?," Wednesday called me timidly.

I turned with the clothes in my hands and looked at her attentively.

The gothic girl seemed nervous."Even though I kept the necklace hidden... I really care about you," she confessed, and I smiled broadly.

I kept smiling, even though a part of my conscience devilishly whispered that Wednesday was only doing it as a friend. But if she allowed me to be close to her, I would accept it anyway.

"If you lose it again, let me know, okay?" I joked timidly.

Wednesday tilted her head, scrutinizing me carefully.

"I won't lose it again, I swear on Nero," she admitted, and my heart skipped a beat at those words.

She had sworn on her scorpion.

"Good," I said embarrassedly, lowering my gaze to hide my blushing cheeks, my heart beating frantically.

Wednesday observed my embarrassment with curiosity.

"Y/n?," she said slowly, breaking the brief silence. "I'm not good with words, but... thank you. For understanding me."

Her voice was calm but loaded with meaning, and I felt a thrill of emotion run down my spine. It was as if she too was struggling with a part of herself that she rarely showed to others.

"There's no need to thank me," I replied sincerely, lifting my gaze to meet hers. "I'm here for you, Wednesday. Always."

A faint smile touched Wednesday's lips, almost imperceptible but full of gratitude. It was a moment of silent connection between us, a mutual understanding that transcended words.

"I know," she finally said, with a hint of seriousness in her voice. "And I... really appreciate all this. You're the only one who truly knows me."

Those words filled me with warmth.

It was perhaps the first time I heard Wednesday express her gratitude so openly, and I felt privileged to have been welcomed into her reserved inner world.

Oh Wednesday... If you knew what I would do for you. Maybe you would finally let me completely into your cold heart.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #miércoles addams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #Cry #Fluffy

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alwaysonthemend · 7 months ago

Text

Author’s Note: This one is for all the pirate!Jake lovers out there. I hope I did him justice.

Word Count: 4k

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, strangers to lovers (maybe), oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, cursing, dirty talk. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

You could feel his dark eyes on you from the moment he had walked through the door. They studied you – marking your every move as you wiped down the bar with a rag. They watched you closer still as you took breaks from cleaning to bring jugs of ale and rum to the other patrons.

He hadn’t ordered anything, only sat in the far corner of the bar, and watched. You’d given yourself a long enough glance to see his long hair spilling out across his shoulders and the way he clasped his fingers – almost each of them adorned with rings, in front of him on the table. You had not been able to see his face clearly. Only a glance of a sharp nose and deep, thoughtful eyes.

But you had seen the glint of gold at his side, the cutlass sheath hanging low on his waist. And on his other hip, three ornate revolvers. Between those, the plethora of necklaces hanging against his exposed chest, and the weathered, strong hands… It's clear enough what he is. And based on the way everyone else seems to be steering clear of him, all the other patrons know, too.

Pirate.

The word carried with it a thrill down your spine. Ruthless, bloodthirsty men who take what they want and bow to no one. Dangerous, untrustworthy, and all together men that you should avoid at all costs. But yet here one is, sitting at your bar.

As if summoned by your thoughts, that ringed hand raises in the air – two fingers curling in a ‘come hither’ motion. You place your rag down, wiping your palms on your skirts, and glide over to his corner. Finally, you meet those dark eyes of his, taking in his full features for the first time tonight.

Brown eyes, almost black. Dark lashes that cast shadows along his cheekbones in the candlelight. Plump lips – soft and pink looking in a way that’s completely at odds with the tan, weathered face. Handsome, yes. Very handsome. Perhaps one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. But that only makes him all the more dangerous.

Chin held high, you stop at last in front of him. Rough fingertips tap a beat on the wood of the bar. Those lips tilt upwards in a barely-there smirk.

“What can I do for ya?”

The smirk widens, revealing a flash of white teeth.

“Oh,” A tilt of the head, hair swishing, “I imagine a great number of things. Or the other way ‘round.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins up at you, eyes glittering. His voice is soft – softer than you’d expect from the mouth of a pirate.

“Presumptuous.” You say flatly, fighting a smirk of your own.

He inclines his head, the chains around his neck clinking where they rest against his exposed chest. You drop your eyes to his hands, noting the way they still tap on the wood. Then to his forearms, his white shirt rolled up to reveal the sturdiness of them, the tan skin only marred by a few thin scars crisscrossing upwards and disappearing beneath the fabric.

He clears his throat and your cheeks warm but he saves you from having to defend your wandering gaze.

“Just some ale. Top shelf.”

“We’ve only got the one.” You tell him, turning away to grab for a bottle from the only shelf that this little tavern has. “Hope it’s to your taste.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

You pour the amber liquid into the glass before sliding it across the bar to him. His fingers wrap around the crystal and bring it up to his lips. He takes one sip, tongue swiping across his bottom lip before putting it down again.

“What’s your name, lady?” He asks, just as you begin to turn away.

“None of your concern, I reckon.” He raises a brow at that.

You meet his gaze with a fiery one of your own, hoping to convey to him that you're in no mood for his attempts at flirtation. But his smile only widens. He clearly hadn't bought the lie.

“And why is that, lass? You’re a beautiful woman. I’d love to have a name that goes with it.”

“If I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?” You give him your best, sweetest smile and bat your eyelashes.

“No promises.”

You scowl at him but that smile of his stays fixed in place. It makes you even angrier that it’s just as beautiful as the rest of him.

“Y/n.” You say at last, turning away. “Now I have other patrons to attend to.”

“You’re not going to ask for mine?” He asks, arching a brow and bringing his glass to his lips again.

“I don’t care.”

This time, you don’t look back as you move away from him to the other end of the bar. You hadn’t been lying – there are other patrons that need serving so you quickly try and shove him from your mind as you continue to work.

But you can feel his eyes on you. You can still see his smirk. And the image of his fingertips drumming on the wood, the muscles in his scarred forearm flexing with each tap, is seared into your brain. You can’t stop thinking about it.

The night wears on, others coming and going but he stays right where he is. You fill his glass two more times, not saying a word to him either time despite the way his eyes rake up your form. But he makes no attempt at speaking again.

At least, not until you take your apron off and hang it up on a hook behind the wall after the girl for the next shift arrives. You see him shift in his seat, pushing his glass away from him before rising.

Heart hammering, you duck outside of the tavern, eyeing the empty streets. It’s late – most are already indoors, preparing for bed. Before you can even think of a way to escape him, the bell over the door rings and out he steps, a long, dark coat tossed over his shoulders, the ends of it just brushing the ground.

“Good lady.” He murmurs, smiling at you as he takes pointed steps until he’s standing just a little bit away from you. “Might I ask where you’re going off to?”

“Home.” You answer blandly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s late.”

“That it is.” Another step forward. “Too late for me to, in good conscience, allow a young woman such as yourself to walk home alone.”

“It’s not far.” You take a step of your own – this one away from him. “I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“There could be all manner of men out there, lurking and waiting for someone like you.” There's an edge to his tone now. He's not used to being told no so adamantly.

“And a man like you is a better alternative?” You ask, smirking a little as you cross your arms over your chest at the chilled wind that blows through.

“Like me?” There’s that smirk again as he places a hand across his heart in mock hurt. “And what type of man am I?”

“You know what kind.”

At your answer, he closes the gap between you once again, pressing in so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the salt on his skin from the sea air.

“Yes. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Pirate.” You breathe out, the word tasting sharp on your tongue as you once again become acutely aware of the strength his body holds and of the weapons that hang on his belt.

“Aye. A terrible, dirty, awful pirate.” He croons, before offering his arm to you. “Shall we?”

With an eye roll and a sigh, you loop your arm with his, the warmth of him instantly easing some of the chill that had begun to settle in.

The two of you walk side by side through the dark streets, hardly a word spoken between the two of you. He hadn’t been wrong – there’s all manner of evil men that lurk out here in the night and usually you take a long way home in order to avoid all the dark, looming alleys where they like to hide. But with him at your side, you don’t have to. Indeed, any time any of them so much as glance your way, their eyes immediately fall to him instead, and then look away. His aura is powerful – a sense of danger that clings to him as you walk. His steps are casual but his hand remains lazily draped across the handle of one of his revolvers and none of the men are stupid enough to trifle with him.

When at last the two of you arrive at the door of your small apartments, he lets his grip on your arm fall. You instantly feel the loss of warmth.

“Jacob.” He breaks the silence at last and you tilt your head. “My name.” He clarifies.

“Thank you. Jacob.” You unlock your door, turning your back to him completely as you begin to step through the threshold.

“Are you not going to invite me in?” He teases, a boyish smile on his face.

“What for?” You ask, giving him the most innocent face you can. You can’t help but to tease back, that damn aura of his drawing you in like a siren’s song.

A shrug and his grin turns devilish.

“I’m sure we could think of somethin’ to do.”

“You don’t have important piratical matters to attend to?”

“I’m sure my crew can survive without me f’r a night. They’ll have to since I’ve got a beautiful woman standin’ in front of me.” Your cheeks warm. “And I don’t plan on lettin’ her slip through my fingers.”

You widen your door and step aside, beckoning him in to the warmth within.

“Then I suppose I’ll allow it.”

As the door shuts behind him you make your way over to the hearth, kindling up a fire that washes the room in a warm glow. Jacob stands in the middle, watching as you slip off your shoes and place them on the rug.

“Are you just going to stand?” You straighten and face him fully, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

At last, he moves, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door like it's habit before moving to unfasten the belt that holds his weapons. As he does so, his eyes stay focused on you.

“I was jus’ thinkin’.” He places them on the table with a thud.

“About?”

“You. All the things I’d like to do, if you’ll let me.” He doesn’t hesitate in his answer and heat floods your core. ��Will you let me?”

“What’s this?” You tease, stepping towards him and grazing your fingertips against his jawline. “A pirate captain asking for permission?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” He whispers, a knowing, familiar glimmer flashing through his eyes. “And how did you know that I’m a captain?” He's so close to laughter but he somehow manages to pull himself together and steel hie expression.

You shrug, fingers dropping down his chest and beginning to work to untuck his shirt from his black trousers, allowing you to ghost your fingers over the sensitive flesh of his stomach.

“Just a feeling.” You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips, fighting it the best you can.

Jacob grins, leaning his head forward and softly bumping it with yours, nuzzling into you softly – the action, you can’t help but think, so similar to a cat brushing up against its owner.

“So can I?” He asks into the skin of your neck, the words rumbling deep in his chest.

A single nod from you is all it takes for him to be on you – those plush lips that you’ve been admiring all night finally crashing into yours. His tongue slips through, exploring your mouth as he moans at finally getting to taste you. It’s ravenous, the way you two devour each other, hands wandering anywhere they can to feel each other at last. When your lungs finally begin to burn with your need for air, you pull away, resting your forehead against his.

“God, I missed you.”

Jacob smiles softly, relieved that the act has finally dropped and he can speak his mind at last.

“I have missed you every second that I have been away. Every night spent in an empty bed a reminder of how much I wished I was here instead.”

His lips drop to the column of your throat, nipping and biting as you toss your head back and tangle your fingers in his hair.

This is a game you play often when he returns from one of his long voyages – playing as if the two of you don’t know each other. The banter, the restraint, the teasing… It's all part of the game. It’s yours and his favorite game to play. But the need outweighs it all now – the need to feel him against you once again. To feel all of him after these long months of his absence. Months of worrying for him as you know well the dangers of his profession. Some days, you can barely stand the fear that he could meet his death out there on the seas and you would never know what happened.

But you push that thought away, focusing instead on the fact that he is here, solid and real before you and eyeing you like he might devour you on the spot.

Hooking your fingers around his wrist, you tug him to your bedroom, swiping a candle and lighting it from the hearth on your way. You place it on the bedside, spinning around to Jacob where he stands unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric pools at his feet on the floor and you grip your own blouse in your fingers in order to tug it off.

“Wait.” You freeze, eyes finding him in the dim light. His lips are swollen and slick as he approaches you, his hands replacing yours where they grip the fabric. “Let me.”

You nod, hands falling limply at your sides.

Slowly, methodically, he pulls your blouse over your head and tosses it to the floor. Then nimble fingers reach behind you, loosening the ribbon that had been tying back your hair. Then he’s sliding your skirts down your thighs, his eyes roaming every inch of skin as he slowly reveals it for himself. When at last you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, he slowly removes them as well. Bare before him at last, he drops to his knees in front of you.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, his hands wrapping around your ankles. The cold of his rings makes you gasp a little, wetness flooding between your thighs. Dragging his palms up the length of your legs, he sweeps his eyes up to you. “I missed you, treasure.”

You close your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his rough hands sweeping up to cup your behind, squeezing the muscle and groaning softly to himself.

His hands fall away and you blink open your eyes at him, taking in the breathtaking view of him on his knees before you. A pirate bows to no one… A captain especially. But Jacob always bows to you. He revels in it. Aches for it. Just as much as you ache for him – maybe even more.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, hands sliding down to grip behind your thighs even tighter to pull you closer.

He leaves hot, wet kisses along your inner thighs as your core begins to pulse and throb with your need. You can still remember that first time he pleasured you like this – with his hot mouth licking through your folds like a man starved. You’d been stunned at the time, having never even considered that such a thing was possible, as you’d only ever known of sex to be for the purpose of child-bearing. But he had shown you that it could be about pleasure. That sex could be an act of love, unselfish and undemanding as he’d brought you to your orgasm over and over again on his tongue until you physically couldn’t anymore. He’d admitted to you that night that he would happily die between your thighs, content to feast on you and you alone for the rest of his days.

And now, as he hooks your leg over his shoulder and finally, finally, laps against your swollen bundle of nerves, you really do believe him. You cry out sharply, head tossing back and Jacob moaning in answer. His fingers dig in harshly to your skin as he pools all his focus on you and your pleasure, alternating between circling the tip of his tongue around your bud and slipping his tongue into your entrance. He moves slowly – unhurried, as if wanting this moment to stretch out forever. Perhaps he does.

“Jacob.” You whine, fingers gripping his shoulders as your legs threaten to give out beneath you thanks to his hard work.

He groans in answer, head beginning to thrash from side to side as he works you closer and closer. The heat inside you builds, overtaking every nerve ending and making you feel as if liquid fire runs through your veins. Hazily, drunk off the pleasure, you try and focus your eyes on him, on the sight of him losing himself in you. But your attention is snagged instead by the movement of his hand dropping from its place on your thigh and coming to palm himself through his trousers. He moans again, tongue working faster, as he begins to rub himself through the fabric – as if he can’t wait a moment longer for some bit of relief.

And it's that thought – the thought that bringing you pleasure makes him ache with his own desire, that brings you to your release. The wave inside you crests before finally breaking, washing you in pleasure as your body begins to convulse and shake. Your grip on Jacob’s shoulders tighten and the hand still on your thigh slides up to your hip to steady you as you fight to stay on your feet under the onslaught of the intense pleasure.

It feels like it goes on forever before Jacob finally pulls away, chin and lips glistening with your release. He licks his lips, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and then licks that up too.

“You taste even better than I remember.” His voice is gruff, wrecked with lust. He rises, hands finding your cheeks and caressing them softly.

You are struck once again with the true paradox that Jacob is. A pirate – rough and sea-weathered, who holds you with such gentle reverence.

“I need you inside me.” You whisper, breaths still uneven. “Now.”

“So demanding, treasure.” He smirks at you, dirty and full of wicked promises. “On the bed.”

On shaky legs, you climb onto the mattress. You settle onto your knees, arms extended out and palms on the bed. You arch, presenting yourself for him. Behind you, you hear a hiss and the sound of fabric rustling as he takes off his trousers. The bed dips and then he’s hovering above you, the cold of his medallions touching your heated skin making you jump a little bit. He laughs, low in his chest, and swipes a hand down your spine. His fingertips are so rough but the touch is gentle, just barely there, as he makes his way down to your hips.

“I dream of this.” He murmurs, his other hand fisting his hard length and pumping himself a few times. “Of seeing you like this, of the way you feel. Of the little noises you make that slowly grow into screams and cries when you’re close.” A stuttered moan. “I dream of getting to fuck you again.”

You squirm and whine, slick dripping down your thighs in anticipation as he speaks such dirty words.

“Jacob, please. I want to feel you.”

He chuckles, running the velvety tip of his cock through your folds.

“Ask nicely, my love.”

“Captain,” You whine, not all embarrassed of how desperate you sound. “Please. Please fuck me.”

“Shit.” He hisses. “I love hearing such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.”

Finally, he spears himself into you. Your eyes water at the familiar stretch of him, at the feeling of him sliding against your walls, at the way his tip buries itself so deeply inside of you. Moans punch out of both of you and Jacob’s palms settle heavily upon your hips, rings clinking together.

He draws back, until he’s just barely inside of you, and then slams back into you again. You arch, jaw dropping open as he sets a brutal pace. His hips slap against your backside coupled with the sound of your wetness and the sounds of yours and his moans create a beautiful symphony of sin – one that never fails to set your entire body ablaze with lust. He pulls your hips back to meet him with each thrust, groaning each time that your walls clench helplessly around him.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He bites out, gritting his teeth. “That’s it. So good for me. Tell me how it feels, treasure.”

All you can do is moan louder, babbling nonsense that’s a mix of his name and ‘oh god’s. You can’t get your brain to focus on anything other than the pleasure, of the way he hits that special spot inside of you that makes you see stars. It’s too much, it’s not enough. You can feel him everywhere – every sense completely overtaken by him.

A sharp crack to your behind makes you gasp and whimper, the sting of his rings a delicious and welcomed sensation.

"Tell me." He demands, driving into you even harder.

It takes every bit of focus you have left to form the words. You have no control over them, the pleasure and lust fogging your brain speaking for you.

"So good, my love. So. Fucking. Good." He growls, eyes fixed on where he's slipping in and out of you. "You feel perfect, Jacob. Don't stop. Please."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Just as the burn of pleasure becomes almost unbearable, as the tears begin to fall in earnest down your cheeks, Jacob stops. You whine in protest but he shushes you.

“On your back, my love. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my cock.”

You do as he says and as you settle and look up, you finally get to see him in all his glory above you. His chest and cheeks are flushed red, a sheen of sweat over his entire body that glistens in the candle light. His hair, sweaty and stuck to his face and neck, and the tremble to his shoulders. And his cock – red and leaking, where it rests against his belly.

He guides himself into you again, driving his hips into you and once again setting a bruising pace. He presses his arms into the mattress on either side of your head, his necklaces brushing against your breasts. He attaches his mouth to your nipple, biting the flesh and making you arch your back at the sting.

Your legs begin to tremble, toes curling and fingernails raking down his back .

“Jacob- fuck, I’m-”

“I know. I know. Me too.”

He brings a hand up to your mouth, fingers slipping past your lips. You swirl your tongue around the digits and he whines before pulling his fingers from your mouth and dropping it between the heated spaces between your bodies. His finger makes contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles in time with his thrusts that grow more frantic and feverish by the second.

“Cum for me, my love. Please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that ends it. The band in your belly snaps and your vision goes white. Your whole body shakes, thighs clamping down on his sides as you scream his name. Just a moment later he frantically pulls himself out of you, stroking himself only twice more before he’s painting his hand and your belly in white. He cries out, guttural and sounding almost in pain as he strokes himself through his orgasm.

When the haze of lust finally begins to dissipate, Jacob rises, finding his discarded shirt on the floor to delicately wipe you clean. When he’s finished, he tosses it back to the floor and presses a kiss to your lips. It’s soft – no haste behind it as all the others had been.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You murmur.

His hands settle themselves on your cheeks again – an action, you’re starting to realize, is his favorite.

“Me too.”

“You were gone for a long time. Longer than usual.”

He frowns, noting the sadness in your eyes.

“I know. We ran into some trouble with a French frigate. We had to stop for repairs before coming here.”

Silences lapses, and you shift to climb under the blankets. Jacob does the same, immediately pulling your back against him and nuzzling into your hair.

Your mind wanders, back to the days when you first met him. When you really did think he was just like all the rest of the cruel, bloodthirsty pirates out there. But he proved himself better. Proved himself to be one of the most loving men you'd ever met, always returning to you no matter how far he went, no matter how much wealth and spoils he finds. Always back to you. But you worry now, laying here, that perhaps one day he won't return. Maybe the wealth of his piratical career will be enough for him and he'll slowly stop coming back.

As if somehow sensing your spiralling thoughts, Jacob pulls you tighter against him, his arm looping over your waist and remaining there.

“Y/n.” A kiss to your neck, then another. “I will always come home to you. You’re the only treasure I care about. Gold, silver, indigo, silk, sugar," his voice is a comforting rumble that threatens to soothe you to sleep, "none of it could ever compare. And one day, when I've got enough of it that you will never have to work another day in that awful tavern... Never have to worry about food on the table, I promise to never leave you again."

You believe him.

~fin

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

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#dee's writing #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #pirate jake kiszka #jake kiszka

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uwabbittuwabbit · 8 months ago

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some like it hot rosquez :) based on this picture this is my first time writing smut lol so apologies for the length :( also i am SHIT at writing dialogue i am so sorry

It's an ugly feeling. There's no air conditioning in the room they're staying in and Vale has Marc pressed into the mattress with his hand in his hair, the window thrown open as an only respite to the feverish weather. A rectangle of pure heat frames Marc's head, the sunlight separating it from the rest of his body that lies beneath the shadow of Valentino. They're both rank with sweat and as Vale mouths the column of Marc's neck he also tastes: sunscreen, the saliva in his mouth, the metal links of a necklace. Valentino grins, taking the chain between his teeth, and he pulls. He was always one to take the reins that were handed to him, to bite the bit when the time was right. And Marc is easy, so easy; a loud, choked off gasp leaving him as he follows Vale's lead, his head rearing back. Vale can feel Marc's throat working against the chain, the movement pressing the links into his tongue. Another sound escapes Marc, a little hiccuping whine, and Vale chooses this moment to let go of the necklace; rewarding him with a particularly nasty downstroke of the hips, his dick somehow feeling hotter than the searing entirety of Marc all around him. God, it was hot, his palm damp in Marc's hair, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them sting. He can feel Marc, how he bucks with impatience, that he's close, and he can see it in his minds eye, the finish, tunnel vision like in the straight before a checkered flag. So, Vale does what he would with the bike: chest pressed against the burnished skin of Marc's back, he brings it home.

"You should wear my things more", he tells Marc after, when they are no longer so sticky with sweat. He's rewarded with a breathy little laugh, and as Vale feels Marc's hand stroke through his hair he thinks he can still see the little indentations left behind by the necklace on Marc's neck, the number 46 still vaguely etched into the side of his collarbone. The feeling that overwhelms him, then, can only be described as terrifying. Never has he felt something so total and absolute for someone that it eclipses all reason, that he has to close his eyes to let it pass. When he has gathered enough sense back into himself, Marc's gaze is upon him, sweet and amber in the fading daylight. Maybe he fell asleep, the heat dragging him under, making everything slow, slow. Vale has always counted himself as one of the luckiest men in the world but he never thought he would be so lucky to have this, to walk off from the table having gambled all of his life's savings away but for one coin, one more bet left in the cards. That, he supposes, is love, and the sweltering confines of the cheap motel room suddenly become altogether too much again. The soft smile on Marc's face ticks into something sharper, bladed with mischief. "Well, obviously, since you're such a narcissist", he replies, oh the little bastard! Vale cannot help the incredulous sound that tumbles out of him. Inspired, he reaches towards the little charm of his number around Marc's neck, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. Now it's Marc's turn to laugh his odd laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth, eyes crinkled with it. "I am entirely full of myself but so are you," Vale declares, wiggling his eyebrows for maximum effect. He's an old dog with old tricks, but who is anyone except for Marc to judge? And Vale knows, sees Marc fall for it every time, his giggles intensifying as Vale sets upon him with kisses all along his neck and face. He was thinking of something more permanent, maybe. He was thinking about a ring on Marc's finger. But that can wait, because if anything, they have time. They have all the time in the world.

#rosquez #eternalectics #must emphasize that they fuck nasty #bruh it isnt a motogp fic if there isnt at least one bike metaphor :p #YAHOOOOO #THEY ARE IN A CHEAP HOTEL ROOM BECAUSE THEY DONT WANT ANYONE RECOGNIZING THEM. JPG.

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seedsofagony · 24 days ago

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Beloved (KnY ♡ Tengen)

Cherrytober Day 31: Scars // Monsterfucking

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Uzui Tengen

Word Count: 1,704

Summary: Japanese fantasy au, x reader (f, lady of the house), dragon lord Tengen, canon injuries, established marriage, monsterfucking/tetraphilia, metamorphosis, size difference, masturbation (reader), aphrodisiac (reader), sex toys, oral sex (reader and Tengen receiving), mention of rimming (reader receiving), handjob, double penetration, size kink, extremely light praise kink, cream pie, implied multiple orgasms, no pregnancy

Notes: Here be dragons ♡ Happy Halloween ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

A cool breeze flows in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of night-blooming flowers. Even at this height, on the top floor of the soaring main keep, their perfume is heady, intoxicating. Lanterns, glowing amber, swing on the gust, inviting shadows to dance on the chamber walls.

The moon shines bright and full through the window—you've been waiting since sundown, watching her reach her climax. Sprawled on a plush cushion, you touch yourself idly—not enough to bring satisfaction, but just enough to be ready when your lover arrives.

Next to you, a metalwork tray holds an empty vial, drained of a sweet nectar that lights a fire in your veins and between your legs. Beside it stands a bottle all but full of warm, viscous oil. Your fingers are slick with it as you tease yourself, the oil dripping pleasantly down your thighs, coating the glass plug that's already stretching your puckered hole.

The breeze picks up again, swelling to a gust that barrels into the chamber. A tremor rocks the castle, wooden beams shuddering as the lanterns swing wildly on their hooks. You sit up, hand frozen between your legs—your lover has arrived. Shifting onto your knees, you fix your attention on the window, eager to greet him.

The castle shudders again, again—trembling beneath an enormous climbing weight. Your stomach flutters with anticipation and a yearning ache blooms in your core. Suddenly, the tremors cease and a dark shape fills the window, illuminated in turns by the swinging lanterns.

A massive head, a long snout full of savage teeth, its maw big enough to swallow you whole. The dragon tilts his head, pale scales glittering, and fixes you with a single cat-like eye.

"Wife." The deep, inhuman voice reverberates through your chest.

Your heart leaps. "Husband."

The dragon, Tengen, growls softly and pulls himself in through the window, claws sinking into the wooden sill. Slithering into the chamber, he reveals himself by degrees. The antlers of a stag and a wild mane running along his sinewy length. The jagged scar cutting across his brow and the empty socket, the five legs where six once were—memories of a battle long ago.

Filling the chamber with his mass, Tengen winds around you, wrapping you in his sinuous coils. When at last the tip of his tufted tail curls around you, his form shifts, and you find yourself in the arms of a lover as much dragon as he is man—a familiar shape if nearly twice your size, warm human flesh and scales, pointed teeth and claws, crown of antlers, and powerful tail. His single arm slips through the silk sleeve of a kimono to embrace you, the light catching on the jeweled patch covering his ruined eye.

"Have you been waiting long?" Tengen asks. His teeth flash in a warm smile.

"Only all night," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Tengen laughs. "Then I won't make you wait much longer." His gaze lights on the tray. "Are you ready for me?"

"Ripe as a peach."

His smile deepens, drawing back into an expression more feral. With some small effort, he composes himself. "But first—a gift," he says. Reaching into the folds of his kimono, he produces a necklace, a strand of luminous pearls that glow in the amber light. "Put it on."

You slip the necklace over your head, sweeping your hair from beneath it. "It's lovely. You do love your pretty things."

"I do," Tengen murmurs, the slit of his pupil dilating. Reaching out, he toys with the necklace, pearls clicking together as he wraps it around his fingers, tightening it like a collar on his most prized possession before letting it drop loose to your naked breast.

Catching his hand, you press your lips to his palm. "Will there be any other distractions?" you ask. "Any further delays?"

"Impertinent woman," Tengen growls, though his tone is rich with indulgence.

He leans forward, tipping your chin, and kisses you softly. Your breath catches and you hum as his split tongue slips into your mouth, the sharp edge of his teeth just grazing your delicate flesh. Breaking away, he rests his forehead against your own, sharing your breath, the calm before the storm.

"Help me undress."

The contents of the vial swirl through your veins, your fingers trembling with anticipation as you unwind the obi from around Tengen's waist. You push the kimono from his shoulders and slide your hands over his bare chest, fingers playing over the melange of flesh and scales. Between his legs, massive twin erections, one above the other, rear up from a pale thatch of hair and the heavy sac of his scrotum. Licking your lips, you push him back against the cushion and crawl onto his chest.

"Coming to take your throne?" he teases, steadying you as you kneel over his face.

You grin down at him, "It's my rightful place, after all."

Tengen's mouth falls open as you descend to him, breath hot against the hollow between your legs. You sigh—almost relieved—as his broad tongue drags over you, thick with hungry saliva. You slide your hands over your breasts, teasing the buds of your nipples as he laps at you—squeezing your clit in the fork of his muscle, toying with your nearly dripping slit, flicking around the plug in your puckered hole—tail lashing contentedly as he drinks you in. Your core spasms once and you groan. Any more and you'll finish on the tip of his tongue—but that's not what you want, what you've been waiting for.

Pulling back, you ease onto Tengen's chest, clit and plug crushed deliciously against his bare skin. He watches you, his expression feline as you take the bottle from the tray and pour the viscous fluid into your hands.

Turning, you crawl down the length of his body to the twin cocks bristling between his thighs. Taking hold of him in each hand, you pump him slowly. Tengen purrs, the vibrations buzzing through you, as you coat him with oil. Unable to resist, you lick his tip before fastening your lips around him, the salt taste of precum filling your mouth. You shift to minister to his second, twitching cock, sucking him as you pump the first with your slicked hands.

Tengen groans, precum gushing from both tips. He smoothes his hand over the mound of your ass, massaging the base of the plug between your cheeks before gently twirling it from your hole, setting it aside to roll, forgotten, across the tatami.

Eager, a fire raging in your belly, you rise onto your knees, poised to lower yourself onto him.

"Beloved."

You pause, looking over you shoulder at him.

"I want to see your face."

Grinning, you turn around, meeting Tengen's gaze as you prepare to mount him. Grasping his cocks, you line him up to your entrances, tips poised outside your hungry slit and puckered hole. He steadies you by the hip as you lower yourself onto him. Even slippery with oil, it's somewhat of a challenge to take him in—your openings stretching taut around the thick bulbs of his heads and then partway down his intimidating length. You'll never be able to take all of him with your human body, but you try anyway, filling yourself with as much of him as you can.

Panting from the effort, heady from the contents of the vial and your two stuffed holes, you begin to ride. The pressure is immense, pushing against your walls in every direction.

"You're taking me so well…" Tengen murmurs.

Pupil dilated like a full moon, he devours you with his gaze—the high color in your cheeks, the pearls swinging against your decolletage, the bounce of your breasts. His eye drops to your belly, the bulge of a cock straining against it. Stroking his thumb over the bump, a pleased rumble rolls through his body into yours.

You're struck dumb by the sensation—the vibrations, the incredible fullness between your legs. Seized by desire, you rut with primal need. Tengen's lips draw back in a feral grin. His hand tightens on your hip, claws just piercing your flesh. Gasping at the ferocity of his hold, you ride faster, chasing your high.

When your rhythm begins to stagger, thighs burning, Tengen takes over, bouncing you with his muscular arm on his twin cocks. You mewl as he drives you harder, deeper, pushing the limits of your body. Stretched, taut, you snap—crying out, stars explode across your vision as you clench hard around him.

"That's it," Tengen croons, "That's the face I wanted to see…"

Still holding you firm, he bucks his hips, tail lashing the floor between his legs. You brace yourself weakly against his belly, still spasming, dizzy with pleasure. Tengen bears his teeth and thrusts into you, pulling you down. You cry out again as the head of a cock crushes against your cervix and throbs, twin surges gushing hot and white.

Tengen holds you in place as he empties into you, your holes leaking down his length, unable to contain all that he's spent. His tail quiets with his final spurt, flicking contentedly as you collapse onto his chest, still snug on his cocks.

"Was it worth the wait?" he asks, reaching up to stroke your hair.

Unable to form words, core still clenching intermittently around him, you can only whine.

Tengen chuckles. "You won't have to wait so long next time."

His hand drifts to your back and, suddenly, he rolls over top of you, still buried deep inside you, and pins you to the cushion. For a moment, he only gazes down at you, his massive body looming over yours. You're entirely at his mercy, and the thought of it sends a new wave of warmth through your core.

Tengen lowers his mouth to your throat, teeth grazing the bare skin above the necklace. "Not long at all…"

You gasp and moan as he sinks his teeth into you, holding you firmly in his jaws. His claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he presses your legs to your chest. He growls softly and takes his pleasure, rutting again into his beloved human mate.

#cherrytober2024 #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #uzui tengen #kny uzui #kny tengen #uzui tengen x reader #kny smut #spoiler free #sweets stories #sweets🍒24

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theorganiccottonshop · 2 years ago

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flickr

#amber necklace for teething #amber teething necklace

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tolki-sims · 2 years ago

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𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑, 𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑, 𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑 . . .

KEY: *The Sims Resource / **SimsDom / ^Rebels (please have an adblocker enabled)

genetics: skintone, skinblend, highlight (19# mm), skin details 1, face details 2, teeth, jaw contour, lip detail, eyebrows (amber), *eye contacts (facepaint), lashes, eye kit, collarbone + lily contour, ear preset + ears, ball-jointed tattoo, head preset (#6), body preset (serena), lipstick

everyday: **bonnie hair, shirt (cant find) + **mesh, jeans, shoes, bracelet, necklace, gloves, ring, eyegloss, eyeliner, **nails

casual: ruff hair redo, headphones, crop tee, *undershirt, joggers, slippers, collar, eyeliner, **nails

formal: mayz hair, **dress, sandals (v2), *choker, scandal eyeliner, nails

athletic: ruff hair redo, beanie, top, **pants + belt overlay, shoes, necklace, gloves (by overkiller simmer, cant find), eyegloss, eyeliner, nails (spa day)

sleepwear: yen hair, shirt, boyshorts, eyegloss, eyeliner, nails (spa day)

party: silent hair, jasmine tee dress + undershirt overlay, fishnets, boots, *choker, *eyeshadow, eyeliner, ^nails

hot weather: thea hair, headphones, shirt + skirt, garter, wedge slippers, collar, skeleton gloves, eyegloss, eyeliner

cold weather: ashley hair, bucket hat (high school years), ^hoodie, top accessory, cargo pants, sneakers, eyegloss, eyeliner, nails

× ★ ★ ★ ×

@pyxiidis, @northernsiberiawinds, @2sims3melancholic, @okruee, @magic-bot, @ladysimmer94, @alhajero, @thepeachyfaerie, @saruin, @pralinesims, @ashwwa, @dolltrait, @miikocc, @uxji, @falsogod, @babyetears, @cloudcat, @ts4eve, @b0t0xbrat, @pyxalicious, @serawis, @overkillsimmer, @gigglecoffin, @trillyke, @gloomfish, @the-crypt-o-club, @goppolsme, @bergdorfverse, @sentate, @regina-raven, @its-adrienpastel, @candysims4, @lumysims, @dreambot, @liliili-sims4, @madlensims, @cosimetics-cc, @renlishsims, @simgirlz, @trillyke, @charonlee, @bellassims, @arethabee, @jius-sims

#the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 cc #ts4 cc #the sims 4 lookbook #ts4 lookbook #the sims 4 edit #ts4 edit #my sims

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valentine-cafe · 7 months ago

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˚◞♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂 209 — the snake-hybrid mad doctor◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours, ” ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 209

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ grim reaper, snake hybrid

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 46

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱estj

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitao )

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.

𖹭. deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.

𖹭. long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.

𖹭. is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns

𖹭. wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.

𖹭. stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.

𖹭. androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.

𖹭. very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.

𖹭. primarily dons the red makeup styles.

𖹭. extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.

𖹭. he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.

𖹭. he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.

𖹭. has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage

𖹭. on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.

𖹭. charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.

𖹭. prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.

𖹭. can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.

𖹭. moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.

𖹭. calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.

𖹭. his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.

𖹭. hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.

𖹭. should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not

𖹭. he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you

𖹭. he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror

𖹭. always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you

𖹭. possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

𖹭. very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”

𖹭. loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up

𖹭. a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public

𖹭. pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his

𖹭. if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

𖹭. healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

𖹭. fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

𖹭. talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

𖹭. snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

𖹭. poison immunity: immune to poisons.

𖹭. elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

𖹭. hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

𖹭. seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

𖹭. enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

𖹭. stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.

𖹭. abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

𖹭. fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend

𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased

𖹭. zhào mùchén: father, deceased

𖹭. zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy

𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. wèi lìxuě: enemy

𖹭. liú tàishī: enemy

𖹭. alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased

𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: enemy

𖹭. park tae-hyun: enemy

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?

a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jingyi herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good.

so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.

𖹭. he is also the co-chairman of valence

𖹭. he is fluent in asl and csl

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )

𖹭. has a cat named Beatrice Herrera Reina the 2nd queen of the abyssal dread

𖹭. loves old-timey romance movies

𖹭. as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.

𖹭. likes collecting tea sets.

𖹭. he sometimes smokes

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ tea time — jingyi 209 ꒱#asterism #teratophillia #terato #yandere teratophilia #monster character #snake hybrid character #yandere character #mad doctor character #x reader #reader inster #jingyi herrera 209 #jingyi 209

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 2 years ago

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Could do tara carpenter x fem reader

R is Wrongly accuse of being ghostface and conviently disappeared even though she innocent *amber frames r by planting all the stuff the killer use in her bag and now everyone but mindy and Sam hate r as everybody suspect her of doing this except for mindy and Sam even to the point of hating her*

Tara is upset and hurt even believing that r is the killer because ghostface called and said stuff that only r knew about

*both Mindy and Sam have known r for a long time considering how sam used to babysit all of them and how attach r is to Tara when they were little. And they know r is not the killer as they know how much she loves and care for both Tara and Sam. And Sam was happy for r as she really approve of her dating her sister since she always was willing to do anything to make Tara happy*

Maybe have Tara and other come to r rescue *she was trapped in amber’s house the whole time which explain why she didn’t return their calls or text*

I really hope I did this request justice .........

Tara Carpenter X Fem!Reader

Samantha Carpenter couldn't leave her little sister unprotected especially now as she had been attacked. She thought back to when they were younger and how she watched all of them.

Images of a young Mindy, Chad and Y/N playing with Tara in her backyard going through her mind. She'd laugh as she'd watch Mindy and Chad try to tag team to beat Tara in a game and Y/N always came to the rescue even when she knew she'd get the brunt of their force.

Her shiny (e/c) eyes always looking to her younger sister in complete adoration.

She remembered the day the girl ran in the rain searching every sidewalk for Tara's favorite necklace. The younger Carpenter heart broken until the two came back necklace in hand. Y/N even going as far as cleaning it and putting it in a jewelry box to keep it from getting lost again.

"Babe we're here." Richie broke Sam from her trance as she parked in front of the familiar house. She knocked quietly pushing the door open and finding her favorite kids sitting in the Meeks-Martin living room. She started introducing everyone as she hugged them going last with Y/N as the two stayed embraced just a little longer.

To Sam, Y/N was family. She remembered when she had first found out about her situation at home and the blatant neglect her parents gave her. She'd allow the girl to stay over for nights on end worried that her abusive father would bring harm to her. Sam barely spared a glance to Amber who just gave a fake smile in return. It took a moment before she realized the black haired girl was wearing Tara's necklace.

The group were discussing their list of suspects The former sheriff Dewey providing his insight as well.

"And where were you Y/n?" She saw the girl flinch from the corner of her eye as she and Amber began to stare each other down.

"Like I told the police I went out to get food."

"Suspicious." Muttered Wes. She turned her narrowed eyes to the blonde.

"Tell me Wes what motive would I have for hurting Tara?!" The boy gave a sarcastic grin.

"You mean besides the fact that she left you for Amber?" Y/N's jaw clenched as Sam's eyes shot up in surprise.

Amber chuckled shrugging.

"What can I say? The heart wants what it wants, and he does have a point. Didn't the police mention how the killer somehow knew about Tara's alarm system?"

You just grit your teeth not bothering to respond as Mindy went to defend you.

"If that's the case Wes then don't both you and Amber have just the same chance at being the killer?" The blonde and raven haired girl turned to the female twin.

"Excuse me?!"

"Seriously?"

Mindy scoffed. "Oh please Wes we all know about your crush on Tara even before she began dating anyone, and Amber may want to make sure no one can take her the same way she got her." She paused for dramatic effect. "If I can't have her no one can."

Chad and Liv still eyed Y/N who had yet to say anything to defend herself.

Amber just smirked as Wes panicked to defend himself.

"I have an alibi!"

"Aren't there usually two killers in the Stab films?" Liv spoke from beside her boyfriend.

"Not in the 8th film Liv stay in your lane." The pink haired girl scowled.

"I'm sorry and you are?" Richie asked.

"Liv, Chads girlfriend-"

"Of six months!" The overly cheerful boy finished making her kiss his cheek.

"And no one thinks that's suspicious?" Dewey spoke from his seat. He turned to Richie. "And how long have you and Sam been dating?"

Richie mumbled. "Six months."

Sam turned to Y/n.

"You guys finally got together?" It was the first question she'd ask since she got there. The younger girl nodded a small smile on her lips before it fell. She did not explain any further as she looked out the window.

Sam thought back to the day Y/n came to her for advice on her feelings for her younger sister. The poor girl felt as if something was wrong with her because she felt warm whenever her sister was around. How she found everything about her fascinating. She was sweating, fingers picking at the skin as she was scared Sam wouldn't love her the same.

Sam tried her best to make sure the girl knew her feelings were perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. She knew they'd probably take a while to officially get together but she'd hope once they did they'd stick together no matter what. She also hoped she'd know that they would always be there for her no matter the circumstance.

Ambers phone rang. "That's Tara, if you guys don't mind I think I'm going to go make sure my girlfriend is protected."

Everyone had left the Meeks-Martin household and Sam had sent Richie back to the hotel. Before she pulled off she rolled her window down seeing Y/N about to walk home.

"Hey, are you hungry?" The younger girl gave a small smile and nod. The were sat in the booth waiting for their orders when Sam finally broke the silence.

"What happened?" The younger girl shrugged picking at a napkin.

"I really don't know. One day we were fine the next I'm hearing about how cool Amber is and I let my jealousy get the best of me. I made a dumb comment that if Amber was so awesome then she could date her. When I went to apologize I headed over to your house and found them kissing on the front porch."

Sam's eyes softened.

"And you guys still hang out as a group?"

"Of course, she may not be my girlfriend but I did make a promise to always be there for her." Y/n chuckled. "Plus Mindy wouldn't let me sit in my room and cry for more than a couple days."

Sam laughed as their food was placed before them. "And when did you became a couple?"

Y/n sighed. "It was a couple of years ago, she was getting a lot better so I took her out for a picnic on the beach. She was mad I had to cancel our plans the day before."

You smile softly at the memory. Picking at the food on your plate as she did the same.

"I don't even remember what she said I just remember kissing her and telling her that I was in love with her and have been for as long as I can remember. I told her I'd never leave her side and asked her to be my girlfriend. I told her no matter what happens between us good or bad at the end of the day we'll fix it. I thought we were doing great but as you can see six months later I guess we couldn't."

When they had finished, Sam offered to drop off Y/n but the younger girl insisted she go check on Tara, since she couldn't at the moment.

On her way to the hospital, Sam found cop cars outside of Sheriff Hicks house.

"What's going on?"

"Can't tell you."

"I used to babysit the boy who lives there."

"The sheriff and her son have been murdered."

"What?!" She turned and saw a familiar face. She ran up to the tall man.

"What are you doing here?!" He could barely get words out before she spoke again.

"Who's at the hospital protecting my sister?!"

Her phone rang.

"Sam-"

"Richie I need you to go to the hospital to check on Tara."

She jumped in the surprised when Dewey got in the passenger seat.

"DRIVE!"

She grabbed her phone to dial Y/N only to receive a voicemail. Her brows furrowed.

Over the years she'd kept in touch with her to keep tabs on Tara no matter what the time was she always answered the phone.

She tried again.

And again.

Tara sent Amber home. She went to call the nurse and received no response. Sensing something off she begins to get out of the hospital bed and into the wheelchair nearby.

She begins to wheel herself out the room as she spots a pool of blood. Following its trail she finds the security guard behind the desk bleeding out. His mouth gaping trying to form words. Tara feels tears begin to fill her eyes as she places a hand only her mouth biting back a scream. She goes closer towards his holster.

Fuck! No gun.

She hears a crash nearby and hides in the nearest room. She hears footsteps draw closer looking around she grabs a bed pan. The door to the room over opens. She steels herself as the door opens. She swings as hard as she can and nails someone.

"Ow goddamn it!"

"Richie?!"

"Sam called said you were in trouble-"

"Look out!"

He turns in time only getting his arm sliced. Richie falls to the floor screaming as Tara flings a box of nearby syringes at Ghostface. Ghostface falls back into the nearby bed as Tara tries to wheel out of the room. Richie moves to get up but Ghostface kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Richies phone begins to ring.

"Hello Samantha. Richie can't come to the phone right now due to his impending death."

Tara keeps trying to wheel herself down the hall her bloody hand pushing as best it can.

"Please don't kill him!"

"This is what happens to people who stick their noses in business that has nothing to do with them. Or...should I carve up little sis again instead? Tell you what, you can chose. I'll only kill one. Who do you want to hear die?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Oh come one Sam didn't daddy always say it was a lot scarier when there was no motive?"

Ghostface yanks Tara from the wheelchair making her crawl to the elevator.

"Now chose. Or I kill them both." She sobs.

"Really? You can't save your own sister? All you have to say is "Kill Richie."

"Please-" she's cut off by the sound of groaning. Richie awake tries to crawl but Ghostface flips him on his back.

"Or you can save the man you love. All you have to do is say "Kill Tara" and I'll put her out of her misery."

"Please I'm begging you.."

"Chose now. Last chance to save one."

"I can't..."

"You want to know why I'm doing this,Sam? Maybe it's because you're a selfish bitch who can't even make a decision to save the life of someone you love! Maybe it's because you're too weak for this franchise!"

"Maybe...maybe you're right....or maybe I'm stalking for time, fuckhead."

The masked villain is shot three times as Sam gets to Tara.

"I'll get Richie!"

Dewey runs to help him back turned to Ghostface who raises their knife.

"Not today." He head butts Ghostface who falls back and shoots him in the chest a few more times.

"Let's go!" Dewey grabs Richie pulling him to his feet as they all get to the elevator.

"The head..."

"What?"

"We have to shoot him in the head....if we don't, they always come back." He begins to get out as Sam yells after him.

"Who gives a fuck?!"

Amber, Chad and Liv were all taking shots "in honor" of Wes as Mindy watched on slowly sipping a beer.

She looked to her phone still wondering why she hadn't heard back from Y/N.

The trio made their way over to her. Chad speaking up first.

"If you're still waiting for Y/n to respond you won't hear from her she's probably to busy stabbing someone else right now." Mindy glared at him.

"You really are stupid if you think she's the murderer."

Amber piped in. "Come on Mindy, it's obviously her. No girlfriend, no family, nothing to lose." She listed.

"Yeah her girlfriend was her family and everything to lose."

Great value blossom decided to jump in as well.

"Wouldn't that be more reason for her to kill everyone then?"

Mindy just glared. "Look if you wanna give up on our friend that's fine but I've known Y/n my whole life and I know better then anyone else that she would never have been capable of hurting Tara."

Chad shook his head. "People change."

The girl eyed her brother up and down.

"They sure do." She turned to go watch Stab on the couch as Chad scoffed going to the love seat to make out with Liv.

Amber went to the basement to grab more beer. Mindy getting up quickly to follow right behind her without her knowing.

Amber jumped seeing the curly haired girl once she closed the refrigerator door.

"Jesus Mindy!"

"You really went to the basement alone? What if I'm the killer?"

"You're not the killer." Amber spoke confidently. "Because I am."

Mindy eyed the girl before chuckling to ease the tension. She led the way up before she stumbled on a familiar bag, a knife and Ghostface mask.

"Isnt that-"

"Y/N's bag." Amber stated.

Sam, Tara, and Richie walked in disrupting the party and sending everyone home. As the two girls got upstairs Amber started shouting.

"Y/N's Ghostface!" Tara felt herself flinch. She didn't want to believe what Amber was saying but the way the killer moved in her home as if they knew the place then the special knock they'd made so Tara would know who was at the door. Mindy spoke up.

"That could be planted!"

Amber scoffed. "Jesus Mindy wake the fuck up your favorite couple wasn't perfect and shouldn't have existed."

"Where is she?" Sam spoke.

Richie spoke from behind her. "Waiting to slash out our guts the minute we split up."

The girls looked to him incredulous as Tara got Amber to take her to her room to get her inhaler.

Sam followed as Richie went to the basement stopping short for a moment. "Wanna come with me?" He looked to Mindy hopeful.

"Nope but nice try."

She turned to watch the movie only to be stabbed a few moments later. Desperately pressing her hands to her neck to stop the bleeding.

Sam ran when she found her, trying to help as Amber and Tara came down screaming. Richie appearing at the same time as Liv.

The pink haired girls hands covered in blood.

"Where's Chad?"

"He- he-"

"Oh my God!" Amber pointed. "It's you and Y/N, you're the killers."

"What? No-"

"You're the killer!" Richie yelled next.

"Fuck you Amber I'm not the killer." She smirked.

"I know." A bullet went between Liv's eyes as everyone began to panic. "Welcome to Act 3."

Tara tackled Amber as she went to shoot her sister. Amber tied her up smiling.

"It's ok you'll love the next part and you'll get to chance to say goodbye to your ex." She opened the closet door to show you tied up as well. Blood dripping down your forehead eyes growing wider as you see Tara.

The younger Carpenter sister began crying. You tried to place some of your weight on her to offer some comfort. The both of you breathing heavy and unable to speak.

Tara hoped you knew how sorry she was. She wished she never let Amber convince her that you weren't a good girlfriend or that you were Ghostface. In a way she was just as guilty for all of this.

The door opened again to reveal Sam. She looked at the two of you untying you both as she placed a kiss to both of your foreheads.

"Go hide." She whispered. Both you and Tara helped remove the rest of the duct tape from each other. Neither of you looking at each other as you did so.

You cleared your throat.

"You should hide in the bathroom Tara. I'll go down and use the element of surprise to get Amber and maybe with a distraction it'll give Sam enough time to get Richie." You turned to leave as Tara grabbed you by the shoulders to place a soft kiss on your lips sobbing as she did so.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" You looked into her brown eyes. "I thought we were good I know I said some stupid things but-"

"It wasn't you" she sniffled. "I was dumb and insecure. Amber kept saying how you were distant and should be doing more. Then it seemed like you would pay more attention to Mindy and I just listened. The more I hung out with her the less I'd trust you." Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. "Everyone leaves me anyway so what was stopping you from doing it too?"

You shook your head. "You didn't even give me a real break up, you just showed up with Amber the next day."

The girl nodded. "I know."

"Even though it killed me inside I stayed."

"I know." She hiccupped.

"I still love you and I'm going to protect you no matter what." She looked up at you doe like eyes shining.

"I know, I love you too."

You nodded getting one more kiss in before you gently stroked her cheek. She pulled you back from leaving.

"When we get out of this we'll fix it right? Like we always do?"

You felt your lips tug up in a small smile and nodded. "Yeah like we always do."

You crept down the stairs as quiet as you could when you spotted Mindy bleeding by the TV. You took off your shirt pressing it against her wound. Bleary eyes looked at you.

"Y/n?" She was getting weaker. You nodded placing a finger over your lips.

You ducked when you saw Amber go to the door screaming before firing a few rounds at whoever was out there. She came back in running straight to the basement to put the Ghostface costume back on.

Sidney and Gale walked in guns pointed at you. You lifted your hands up in surrender.

"Everybody Ghostface or not better come out or they're getting shot."

It was all a blur but you woke up on the floor next to Sidney and a bleeding Sam and Gale.

Amber taunting Tara. "Come out come out wherever you are." She grabbed you by the hair making you yell.

"You don't want your first love to die do you?"

"Tara! Don't come out." Amber stabbed you in the abdomen.

"You sure you don't want her to save you?" You glared at Amber.

"Fuck you." You gritted out.

She walked around the corner getting hit by crutches. You jumped on her punching her repeatedly. The last punch you pulled her by her shirt collar.

"And that's for stealing my fucking girlfriend you fucking cunt."

A gun cocked and Richie stood before you.

"You really wanted to play hero huh?" A body slammed into him knocking him over. Sam straddling him and stabbing him repeatedly.

You looked down to see Amber had made it to the kitchen choking Gale. Sidney helped Gale get up before they both set the teenager on fire. You felt yourself sigh as a bloodied Sam hugged you in relief.

Sirens growing in volume as they grew closer.

The two women came to join when a yell was heard.

A half burnt Amber running towards you with a knife raised. She was stopped short by a bullet through her temple. You all looked to see Tara teary eyed as she lowered her gun slowly.

She limped over to her body ripping the necklace from her.

"You were a shitty girlfriend."

#scream #scream v #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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melisnonstop · 1 month ago

Text

💫✨🌜Cielito lindo 🌛✨💫

It’s 3:41 AM, and Alex is unraveling.

He’s always been able to hold it together. Alex Claremont-Diaz, dedicated lawyer, loving husband, the man who takes on challenges headfirst and comes out stronger on the other side. None of his previous battles have prepared him for this—trying to console his son, who’s screaming in pain, while the rest of the world remains deafeningly silent.

Alex paces the floor of the nursery, Mateo’s little body squirming in his arms, face red and twisted with tears. Teething. The pediatrician had warned them it was going to be rough, but Alex wasn’t prepared for this level of helplessness.

Every cry cuts through him like a knife, every tiny whimper feels like his heart is being torn in two.

He’s tried everything—literally every solution thrown his way—and none of it seems to be working. He’d started with the basics. The pediatrician had recommended cold teething rings, the kind you pop in the fridge until they’re just the right level of chill. Alex immediately bought five different ones, all shapes and sizes, but the second they touched his son’s gums, he’d screeched like they were made of fire instead of ice.

There were the over-the-counter remedies: the baby-safe gels, teething tablets, and that weird amber teething necklace that someone swore by on a parenting blog. Alex had tried them all, following the instructions to the letter, but Mateo had only spit out the tablets and thrown the necklace across the room like it was a personal offense.

So, he’d moved on to the home remedies, the ones passed down in whispers from abuelitas in kitchens filled with the scent of simmering caldo de pollo. His tia called, concerned, after hearing about the sleepless nights from Oscar, and rattled off a list of traditional remedies she swore had worked on all the Diaz children.

“Mira, mijo,” she’d said, her voice warm but insistent. “A clean finger, rub a little tequila on his gums. Nomás tantito, just a little. It’ll help numb the pain.”

At the time he’d laughed at the idea of giving their son tequila—Henry would have a heart attack—but in the middle of the night, when the crying hadn’t stopped for hours, Alex had seriously considered it. In the end, he’d settled for a cold, wet washcloth, like his mother had recommended, letting their son gnaw on the soft fabric while Alex whispered comforting words in Spanish.

That had worked—for about five minutes.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Alex whispers, voice hoarse from hours of comforting. He presses a kiss to his son’s damp forehead, feeling his tiny hands clutch at his shirt. “I’ve got you, amorcito. I’ve got you. Please, please just stop crying.”

But the crying doesn’t stop. If anything, it’s louder, sharper, like a million little needles burrowing into Alex’s chest. His son’s gums are swollen, bright pink, and Alex would give anything—anything—to take the pain away. But all he can do is hold him.

Alex had promised himself he wouldn’t wake Henry tonight. Henry, who has always struggled with sleep, even long before their son was born. Nights were never easy for him, not with the constant pressure of the world on his shoulders. Alex made it his mission to let him rest, slipping out of bed the second he heard a cry, determined to handle the late-night chaos alone.

But tonight is different. Tonight, Mateo is inconsolable and Alex can feel his own edges fraying. His body is heavy, eyes burning from lack of sleep and heart aching from watching his baby suffer. He presses his lips to his son’s temple again, but the tears keep coming—his and the baby’s.

It feels like failure, like some fundamental inadequacy that he can’t get his son to stop crying, that he can’t protect him from this.

At one point, in the midst of sheer desperation and exhaustion, Alex sinks to the floor, his back against the wall, pulling their baby close to his chest. He rocks him gently, humming a broken lullaby—Cielito lindo—the only song his mind can conjure up in the haze. It’s something his dad used to sing to him when he was small, and now the familiar melody spills from his lips without thought.

"Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones...""

His voice shakes, cracking over the words as he hums through his own tears. He can’t remember the last time he cried like this, can’t remember the last time he felt this utterly worn down. But here he is, on the floor of their son’s nursery, tears streaming down his face as he rocks his baby boy in his arms.

"Ese lunar que tienes, Cielito lindo, junto a la boca, no se lo des a nadie,..."

By the third rendition Mateo’s cries have softened to pitiful whimpers, tiny hands grasping at Alex’s shoulder, his little body hiccuping in his grasp. But still, the pain is there. Alex can feel it like it’s his own.

He presses his forehead to his son’s, closing his eyes tightly against the wave of emotion crashing over him. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I can’t make this better,” he whispers. “I’m trying. I swear to God, I’m trying.”

And that’s when Henry finds them.

Alex doesn’t even notice at first, so wrapped up in his own spiral of grief and frustration, singing softly through the tears. But then there’s a soft rustle at the doorway, and he looks up, blinking through his tears, to find Henry standing there. His face is shadowed by the dim light from the hallway, but there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes—the quiet devastation of seeing Alex like this, breaking apart in the middle of the night.

Henry crosses the room in three quick strides, sinking to the floor beside him without a word. His hand reaches out to cup the back of Alex’s neck, fingers curling gently into his hair, grounding him.

“Love,” Henry murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, with worry. “You should have woken me.”

“I—” Alex starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. He shakes his head, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “You need sleep. I didn’t want to—”

“Alex.” Henry’s voice is soft, but firm, and when Alex meets his eyes, there’s nothing but love there. Love and understanding and maybe even a little bit of heartbreak. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know, I just...” Alex trails off, looking down at their son, who is finally starting to settle, his eyes drooping as Alex rocks him slowly. “I just wanted to take care of you. Both of you.”

Henry lets out a quiet, pained breath and leans in, resting his forehead against Alex’s temple. “You do,” he whispers. “Every day, you do. But you don’t have to carry it all on your own, love. We’re in this together.”

For a long moment, they sit there in silence, their son nestled between them, the soft sound of his breathing filling the room. Alex feels Henry’s arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he lets himself lean into it, lets himself be held by the man who loves him most.

“I hate this,” Alex mutters, voice thick with exhaustion and emotion. “I hate seeing him in pain.”

“I know,” Henry says softly, his voice full of that quiet patience that Alex admires so much. “But he’s strong. Just like his dad.”

Alex huffs out a tired laugh, wiping at his eyes again. “Which one?”

“Both,” Henry replies, smiling gently as he brushes a thumb over the tear tracks on Alex’s cheek. “But you, my love, are allowed to break sometimes. You don’t have to be a rock all the time.”

Alex looks down at their son, his tiny hand curled around Alex’s finger, and feels the weight of Henry’s words settle over him. Maybe he doesn’t have to carry everything. Maybe it’s okay to let someone else shoulder the burden sometimes, to let himself be vulnerable, to let himself feel the weight of the love and the fear and the exhaustion all at once.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, his voice barely audible. His eyes are still fixed on Mateo, whose cries have settled into soft, hiccuping breaths, but Alex’s own voice is thick with exhaustion and guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Henry interrupts gently, his words soft against Alex’s temple as he presses a kiss there, lingering. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for this. Not ever.”

They both watch Mateo for a bit, the rise and fall of his tiny chest slowing into the deep rhythm of sleep. The room feels hushed now, like the whole world has dimmed to the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner. Alex’s arms are still cradling his little body, and even though his muscles are screaming from holding him for so long, he can’t bring himself to let go.

“I just—” Alex’s voice wavers for a second. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

Henry’s hand, warm and steady, traces slow circles on Alex’s back, grounding him. “Neither do I. But we’re doing it together, yeah?”

Alex exhales a shaky breath and finally lets himself lean back into Henry’s embrace. For a long moment, he just rests there, feeling the steady beat of Henry’s heart behind him, feeling the weight of Mateo in his arms. The exhaustion is still there, heavy and ever-present, but the sharp edges of it dull under Henry’s touch.

“I love you,” Alex murmurs, the words spilling out softly, like a confession, a lifeline, all at once. His head tips back against Henry’s shoulder as he says it, his eyes half-closed now.

Henry hums, his lips brushing the side of Alex’s head again. “I love you too. You and Mateo—” He hesitates, his voice thick with emotion. “You mean everything to me. Both of you.”

Mateo lets out a soft sigh, a little puff of air, his tiny hand curled into a fist against Alex’s chest. The tension that had held Alex so tightly begins to unravel, and he lets himself melt into Henry’s support. With Mateo finally drifting off to sleep, the silence in the room feels sacred, like they’ve earned it, fought for it.

As his own eyelids grow heavier, Alex nestles deeper into Henry’s warmth. His body finally gives way to the wave of exhaustion that’s been threatening to pull him under all night, and just before he slips into sleep, he hears Henry’s voice again—soft, steady, full of love.

“You’re everything,” Henry whispers, and there’s a kiss against his hair, so faint Alex wonders if he’s imagining it. “You and Mateo. Everything.”

Alex's last thought, hazy with sleep, is that he never wants to be anywhere else but here.

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