#ever go pale so hard you can FEEL the blood leaving your face?

[greentrickster]

Look, I’m not saying the American Health Care system is incompetent, I’m just saying that back in 2016 they somehow entered me into the system as an American citizen of the wrong sex, when I had carefully filled out the paperwork stating that I am an American resident of my actual sex, and they then proceeded to send me letters about it from a corporation that was connected to my health insurance company of the time but which had a completely different name and logo and very weird turns of phrase, leading me to think it was another company trying to court me as a customer or steal my info and thus ignored.

But don’t worry, it was fine! Yeah, they cut off my health insurance, but it was fine, it only took two months to sort out because the website refused to let me log on so I had to do everything over the phone and the process took a long time done in that manner, but it was fine. I mean, yeah, by the time I had that final call to get things completely sorted out I had to have my mom there with me because I’d been unable to sleep that night and kept having to run to the bathroom, but it was only dry heaves because I hadn’t been able to eat much of anything for the past twelve hours, so, you know. It was fine.

And hey, I got health insurance again! And it’s been six and a half years since then, so I don’t even have panic attacks when everyone’s urging you to renew your health insurance at this time of year anymore, and I only have have trauma flashbacks for some of the stuff they send me in the mail, regardless of what the content of the letters are! It’s fine! I’m fine.

I’m fine.

[saturnsorbits]

Stuck Between a Soft Place

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Tit Fucking, Cum Eating, Pictures/Filming. Word Count: 2k.

'Babe?'

Bakugo's voice floats down the stairs, the question in his tone worrying for a man who has always treated even his opinions as facts.

You pause, head cocked. He'll shout again if it's urgent, if not -

'Babe... Babe!'

Officially intrigued, you skip up the stairs and follow his voice into your bedroom.

Bakugo looks up as soon as you fill the doorway, a weary smile tugging at his lip. He's perched on the end of the bed, boxer-clad and supporting a raging hard on that has already stained the front of his underwear. There's still droplets of water on his shoulders, beads from the shower he must have just stepped out of. It makes his skin glisten, his pale flesh almost glowing in the low light that trickles in through the translucent fabric of your curtains.

You fold your arms. 'You best not have called me all the way up here for: that.' Glaring at his cock, you raise your eyebrows as it twitches in response to your scolding.

'No.' Bakugo barks, but no sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's trying to cram them back in again. 'I mean, I -.' The words stick in his throat. With all the blood currently filling his cock, his brain feels sluggish. His thoughts cloud, coherency evading him as he tries to see past the request plaguing his mind.

Shaking your head, you sigh. 'Should have just come down and bent me over the counter again. I liked that...'

Bakugo puffs out his cheeks, knees bouncing under him.

'Spit it out.'

'I want to ask you something...'

'Oh, I can tell.'

'Not that.'

You scoff, hand moving to your hip. 'You don't want to fuck me right now?

'No. No, I do.' He inhales, pecs heaving as he steels himself against the hesitancy that nips at the lining of his stomach. 'If I tell you something, can you promise not to get mad?'

Popping your hip, you flick your tongue against the corner of your mouth. 'Alright. Did you cheat on me?'

Bakugo looks like you've just slapped him. 'What the fuck? No.'

'Go see 'Chako's new baby without me?'

'No.'

You wince. 'Tell Shouto that I secretly hate his new hair?'

'He's going through a phase.' Bakugo chuckles, the tension in his shoulders slowly leaving with each of your questions.

'It's awful.'

'I didn't tell him you hate it.'

Chewing at your lip, you scrunch your nose and pretend to think for a moment. 'Then no, I'm not gonna be mad.'

The air in the room feels hot. It burns Bakugo's skin, making him want to squirm. Clearning his throat, he ignored the persistent pulsing of his cock and begins to speak. 'Sero was talking about one of his girlfriends giving him a tit-wank and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you doing it to me since.'

'That's it?' You bite your tongue to stop the laughter from bubbling up your throat. The words 'tit-wank' falling from your typically gruff boyfriends lips something you didn't think you'd ever hear.

'Fuck off.' Now it's Bakugo's turn to cross his arms. He pouts, lip turned out as he looks up at you through thick eyelashes. He sulks. 'You know I have a hard time asking for shit.'

Stepping over the threshold, you come to a stop between Bakugo's knees. The spread of his legs accommodates you easily, your thighs brushing as you reach out and gently hook a finger under his chin. 'Don't ask then. Tell me.'

Bakugo chokes. It's a struggle to fight the haze that threatens to overwhelm him, but he manages it. Just. You're a vision, all easy confidence and curves, with your tits so close to his face that it's impossible not to stare straight at your cleavage. Dragging his eyes away, he meets his fate head on and submits to the amused arousal swimming in your eyes.

It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to slip from under your spell, but as soon as he does he dons his ego easily. Clearing his throat, he takes your hand from under his chin and grips your wrist. 'On your knees.'

You obey quickly, hitting your knees with a force that makes you thankful for the carpet. Already you can feel your cunt pulse, the tell-tale beating that promises another pair of ruined underwear and a desperation that only Bakugo can tend to.

'Take this off.' Slipping his finger under the strap of your tank top, he snaps the material against your skin.

You hiss, but waste no time. Stripping off the offending item, you toss it behind you and sit up, pressing your elbows together to make your tits sit pretty for inspection.

Bakugo swallows. His cock bobs. Gritting his teeth, he summons all the strength he has as he lets his eyes roam your naked chest. 'No bra, huh? No wonder you've got me going crazy. Look at what you do to me...' He grabs himself through his underwear, a wicked grin turning his lip as he watches the way your breath hitches.

'Can I?' You blink up at him, hands still poised on your knees despite the urge to touch him running through your veins.

He nods and you're on him in a second. You push your cheek against his hardness and nuzzle against the muscle. Desire radiates from him, causing his cock to twitch as you pull back and lick a long, thick stripe up over his clothed erection.

'Fuck...' Bakugo forces his lungs to take in air, curling over himself he watches, besotted, as you drool over him. The tip of your tongue presses to the rim of his clothed head, flicking at him in a way that makes his stomach tighten. Travelling lower, you encourage him to lift his hips, yanking his underwear off and down his legs.

Bakugo’s cock, once free of its confines, slaps back against his stomach. It’s thick, although average in size with a pretty, pink head that leaks lazily down its length. Pre-cum has given his skin a pearlescent sheen, one that begs to be cleaned and promises salt and satiation as a reward. The veins that run underneath pulse. Purpling as they near his base, they vanish, obscured by a thicket of dark blond hair that grows wiry from his groin.

You lick your lips and whine, knowing you’ll have to wait for your treat.

‘Don’t be like that baby…’ Bakugo reaches down and grips your jaw, mirroring your earlier gesture. ‘Don’t you wanna make me feel good?’

You nod. In your shorts your cunt drools. Your arousal pools, dripping down your calves as you sit ad pretty and wait.

Twisting his wrist, he places a thumb against your lips and ruins your pout. He slips the digit into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. ‘You’ll get your taste. Just gotta let me use you a little first, ha?’

You suck on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks as you curl your tongue and lap at the underside of his digit. The impatience in your stomach kicks, but you fight it for long enough to shift forwards and press your chest to his thighs.

His skin is warm against your tits as you cup yourself in cool hands. Stretching out your spine, you lift yourself up until you can lean over and slide him between.

Bakugo slips his finger out of your mouth immediately. The sight is already too much, the feel of your flesh against his a siren call to a premature end.

Leaning further into him, you press your chest to his cock, a literal flesh light that promises to fulfil all of his sordid dreams. You lock eyes with him, forcing him to bear witness, as you gently begin to use your tits to jerk him off.

The first pass feels like heaven. His cock pulses, balls pulling up tight as he fists the sheets beside his thighs. Each joint in his knuckles pale, his arms locking at the elbows as he viciously fights the urge to begin fucking up into you. ‘Fuck. Fuck -.’ He pants, chest expanding as he struggles to take in enough air.

Tilting your head, you smile sweetly and ask: ‘Is this what you wanted?’

His words jam behind his teeth. ‘Yes. Yes. Fuck - y-you feel amazing, doing so good. So fucking good.’

‘Yeah?’ There’s mischief swirling in your stomach as you watch him struggle to maintain his control. His head is thrown back now, the tension clear in the veins that trail over his shoulders.

You love him like this. Lost to himself. To pleasure. Comfortable enough to bare his throat to you.

‘So you don’t want me to do this, then?’ You don’t wait for his response, just let the tip of your tongue peak from behind your lips and lick at the soft crown of his head. Salt explodes across the back of your tongue, soaking into your saliva as you savour him and swallow him down.

Curling over himself, Bakugo feels his entire body strain with the effort to stall his orgasm.

He snaps forward, eyes watching hungrily as you continue to please him. Still, looking at you doesn’t help. You look debauched with bright cheeks and that twinkle in your eye that lets him know he’s done for. He can see his pre-cum coating your flesh, the softness of your tits glazed already with his excitement. Even your tongue, as you slip it back into your mouth, is dashed with him destined for your insides.

It happens quickly then, as he watches the head of his cock engulfed in your warm mouth. The pressure is too much. Coupled with the wink you toss him over the scene - he really should have known…

You flinch as the first lashing of cum splashes against your mouth. Ropes of it follow as it seems to reach everywhere, saturating you. It makes you feel dirty. Claimed. Take a picture…’ You pant.

Bakugo’s eyes almost burst out of his head, his cock kicking violently between your tits. A valiant effort from the otherwise spent muscle.

You lick your lips, careful not to disturb his masterpiece.

The echoes of his orgasm are anything, but fleeting. His stomach is tense, his shoulders too as he wrestles himself into a state of straightness once more… Already the bone deep satisfaction only you can deliver to him is settling in his joints. It makes him easy, bringing back the bite of confidence he’s so used to.

Reaching backwards, he pats the duvet until his phone bounces into his hand. He flips it, flicking open the camera with a practised ease, but comes to a halt when lays his eyes back on you. He swallows.

Bakugo’s been sure of a lot of things over the years. He was sure he’d go pro. Sure he’d be Ochako’s best man. Sure he’d never find a curry better than how his mum makes it. And, yet, he’s never been more sure of anything than you. Emotion tickles his throat. ‘You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You know that, right? So fuckin’ sexy.’

You roll your eyes.

‘Oi.’ He cups your cheek, forcing your eyes to lock. ‘You’re so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know… You could have fucking anything, you could.’

‘That right?’

You smirk and he knows he’s in trouble. Bringing the phone up, he snaps a few shots off in quick succession. All of them promising to have him hard within moments. Your tits are soft, cushioning his cock between them. Only the head of his cock peaks out, red and rosy and dripping in cum. It covers the rest of you too, from breast to face. It's even nestled in the groove of your tongue, something you've openly displayed for the camera, coupled with a wink.

Unfolding yourself, you stumble to your feet, helped by a steady palm on your forearm, but before you can escape Bakugo grabs at your ass and waist, yanking you close to him. His nose bumps against your sternum, tongue flicking at your skin as he cleans a streak of his own cum from your body.

You let him, indulge him for a moment and then, you’re lacing your hands in his hair and pulling: Hard. His neck snaps back, crimson eyes blown wide. You laugh. ‘Keep those pictures. I’m going to get a shower.’

He swallows audibly, the click like a gunshot in the ambience.

You unfurl yourself from him and tap the phone in his hand. ‘Oh, and Katsuki… When I get back, we’re gonna make a movie.’

Bakugo groans, flopping back on the bed. His cock twitches, balls tightening again despite the recent release. Already his mind is swimming, the arousal in his stomach making him dumber by the second. ‘You’re gonna be the death of me woman!’

The door to the bathroom shuts, locking your laughter behind it. ‘And you’re gonna love it.’

-> Full Masterlist

[white-poppie]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 ⎯⎯⎯ s.suguru x fem!reader (part 1/?)

SYNOPSIS: You were young, dumb and so in love. There was always this adrenaline rush when you and Suguru were together; harmony, romance and protection. Fate, you called it. Our youth ⎯ you cherished it. But every high ends doesn't it? When Suguru left; the sorcerer society and you, Shoko and Satoru. And you were left with the weight of more than what you could carry. Decisions of your youth, testament of your love. TW: sexual intercourse <not really explicit, but I'll tag it as smut>, Satoru and Shoko being super depressed, heartbreak, abandonment, !!mentions of teen-pregnancy and abortion!!, crying, smoking, suguru being cruel, panic attacks

Series masterlist ── Chapter 2 : Moon Child

"This is the last time." He whispers, his voice hoarse, his lips pressing against the nape of your neck. His large hands grip your waist tightly, his hot breath fanning on your skin as he looks at you, and you feel your chest tighten into knots. "I won't be able to see you again anymore." He says, deftly pulling on the hem of your top.

Your lips part, a shaky breath leaving the warm cavern. You knew this was coming. The way he was spiralling out of despair. His long lashes flutter against his cheek, eyebrows scrunched ever so slightly at the centre of his forehead. His teeth are clenched tightly, a muscle lightly feathers on his jaw. Little lilac veins bedeck the expanse of his pale neck, its a strange hue. Starting with a purple undertone it fades into a soft greenish-blue.

You gulp and remain silent as you wrap your arms around his neck. Shaky breaths, and the rustle of the sheets is the only sound that echoes with the walls of the room. You are hyperaware, as if your brain is wracking hard to absorb every single sensory detail of tonight.

Slowly, he lays you down on the bed, his large and calloused hand coming to cup your cheek, his eyes taking in the sight of you underneath him. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a silent command for you to look him in the eye. "I hope you hate me." He whispers, his chest rising and falling quickly. "If the last thought you have of me is disgust and disdain, I could die a happy man."

You look up at him, your hand clenching the sheets as he removes your t-shirt. Your skin feels frigid under air con, cold blood washing upto your head; your throat is parched. You just wish the world would swallow me down, burn your body with lapping tongues of fire...at least then you would be warm. "I could never hate you..." you manage to croak out, your eyes blankly looking at the ceiling, anywhere but him.

"You're a fool." He whispers quietly, his mouth trailing down your neck, and you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, his fingers dancing along the lace pattern of your black brassiere. "You're so foolish," he whispers again, his other hand grabbing your thigh and pulling you closer. "To love someone and expect them to love you back."

"I know...." You whisper out, its like an invisible hand is constricting your heart. A cruel reminder that it's written in the stars to be an ominous little thing undeserving of any love from anyone.

His voice is quiet, but you can still hear his words ringing in your ears as you feel his hot breath fan over your skin as he whispers in your ear. "You should hate me for leaving you like this, you should scream and yell, you should curse my name," He says, and you feel his teeth gently biting down on your earlobe.

A muffled gasp leaves your mouth at his nibble. You look up at his eyes, a watery smile making its way on your face as he tells you to hate him. "Suguru." You whisper out so lovingly, in a worshipping way, yout eyes so full of devotion and reverence. Even when tears line your eyes, even when his words rip you apart. "Suguru, my love."

His eyes go wide at your soft whisper, and you can feel his hands tighten on your waist as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Fuck" He whispers out his voice so heavy, you almost think he would cry. "You're so beautiful," He tells you, his voice choked up. "You're the prettiest person I've ever seen." He whispers, feverishly moving to unclasp your clothes, throwing it on the ground. His jaw trembles just a little, a shaky breath leaving his mouth.

He buries his face between your chest, fists clenching the fabric of the sheets, just inhaling sharply, you can feel the rough pads of his fingers trail up your sides. His breath is hot, his kisses searing your skin, you feel warm now. Its a given under his smouldering gaze as he looks up at you.

You can't help but whimper softly, hands weaving into his dark locks. His finds purchase on the smooth flesh of your hips, his fingers squeezing gently. "Pretty girl," he whispers under his breath as a strange sensation runs down your spine like you had walked into a lukewarm bath, the water rising till your tailbone. Its a sickly feeling.

His hand trails down, till all your clothes are discarded somewhere in the void, the corners of your eyes are blurry, you can't exactly see anything but him.

You shiver and peer at him, watching him discard his clothing. he's so pretty, you think, like some dark seraph who's wrath was a but too much for the pearly gates and so he fell down....into your bed. A sudden dread claws at your ribs. There would be other woman who would see him like this. Others who he'd use for his vendetta, but regardless they'd see him in all his glory.

His eyes a dark like pools of tar, dripping down and defiling your cherub-blood. You want to sink you teeth into his skin and rip his heart out, cradle it to your chest and never let go. You need him to be yours. Its so unfair.

He pulls you up towards him, his hands settling under your thighs as he spreads your legs on either side of him. A low grumble leaves your mouth as your eyebrows furrow. Your heart hurts in a way that makes you dizzy. Your throat runs dry with this sudden tsunami of emotions that hits your so hard that your ribs hurt.

His breathing is heavy and loud, his eyes staring down at you intently as you look up at him. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest as he moves slowly, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly it almost hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You let out sharp, shaky whimpers. Trembling as your nose reddens, your heart feels like it’s breaking. You are never gonna see him again, feel him again. The world should cease to move.

He holds you close to his chest, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming out in a hot, heavy puff, fanning your skin with each passing moment.

Your hands shiver, and throat becomes so dry that its hard to breathe. You can't breathe. You can't let him go. The stoicness you had maintained to not look pathetic, to not cry in front of him when he was abandoning you. Its all crumbling down at this intimacy. This warmth has you feeling so vulnerable that you want to curl up and burrow to hide myself. A soft sob leaves your mouth as tears melt down from your eyes at the slightest bit of his warmth, breathlessly.

He freezes at the sound of your sob, his body stilling completely as he looks down at you. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear that threatens to fall. His eyes soften as he looks at you, his breathing slowing down as he gazes at you in wonder. His thumb trails across your skin and wipes another tear that threatens to fall, the look in his eyes heartbreaking as he looks at you.

And beyond that, you can't help the stream of soft sobs that you try so hard to stifle. You rest my arm over my eyes to stop looking, to stop feeling. Your shoulders tremble as all the indifference you were putting up, shatters down painfully.

His eyes go blank, and it’s as if everything comes crashing down around the two of you. He tries to stay strong, he truly does - but watching you cry like this, hearing the sounds you make as you try and hold it in, it’s almost too much. He pulls you up towards him, his arms encircling around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

You cry out against his skin, your fingers tremble as your arms firmly wrap around him, afraid to let him go. Your stomach churns, and body burns. You want it to be a terrible dream. "Don't go." You cry out pathetically, sobbing. "Please don't go."

He stiffens, his arms tightening around your middle as he hears you say that. Your plea is like a knife in his heart, and he can’t help the way his arms tighten around you, as if trying to cling on to something that’s about to slip away. "Don’t…” He whispers out, his voice rough. “I told you… don’t make this harder than it already is," he says, his voice choked up. The pain in your voice is enough to break his heart, and he can’t help but feel utterly horrible as he holds you in his arms - but he can’t change his mind, he can’t stay with you, he can’t allow himself to get too attached to you. He already is, but he refuses to admit it, to even acknowledge the possibility of it.

And before you know it, your eyebrows furrow as you are lain back down again, a feathered gasp of pleasure and the pain that grips your heart leaves your throat.

He gasps as he looks down at you, your moans making his heart flutter with something almost akin to love. He leans forward, his face mere inches away from yours as his breath fans over your skin, and in a moment of weakness, he leans down and presses his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

And you unravel. He feels his heart ache as he looks at you, unable to stop the feelings that flood his chest, making his emotions go into overdrive. He leans down and presses his lips against your skin, kissing a trail down your neck as he whispers soft words of praise into the crook of your neck.

You pant as your eyes flutter in tiredness, hand coming to tuck the strand of his hair behind his ear. You can't sleep...you are scared to sleep. He'll dissapear.

He slumps against your body, his breathing coming out in heavy, laboured pants, his heart racing at a rapid pace in his chest. He stays like that, his fingers trailing up your back aimlessly, feeling the smooth expanse of your skin under his fingertips. For a moment, he imagines this is their life, that he could have the privilege of waking up next to you, caress your skin and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. But that can’t happen. He knows that, no matter how hard his heart is beating or how loud his mind begs him to stay.

You sniffle softly and he shifts, letting you bury face in his chest, your tears hollowing him again. He's leaving you, Satoru, Shoko...its all memories now. He has a greater purpose, he'll raise a Jujutsu only world. The world is far too cruel for people like you...its his way of protecting you.

He lays in bed for a long, long time, holding you close to his chest. He watches you for hours, his heart pounding in his ears as he listens to your breathing, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, the way your mouth opens just a bit when you breathe. He memorizes every inch of your face, the way you look when asleep, the way your face softens when you’re in your most vulnerable state. He looks at you for hours, before gently untangling your hand from his arm and getting out of bed.

You wake up hours later at Shoko's phone call. Your eyes fluttering as you answer her sleepily.

"Hm?"

"Y/N, Suguru's killed 152 civillians, including his parents. He's left." She says and your breath hitches. You look around the room, heart racing when you don't see him. It wasn't a dream. He was here, he left. You could've stopped this massacre from happening. You could've convinced him. You could've killed him. It was your duty as a sorcerer when you knew what he would do.

You end the call and sit like that for hours, crying and sobbing into the sheets that still smell like him, the faint trace of his cologne sticking to the sheets long after he's gone. You stay there, unable to move, unable to bring yourself to get out of bed and face the empty apartment without him in it, facing the fact that he's gone. You cry until your throat is raw, and your eyes sting, and you can only hiccup and sob quietly into the sheets. Suguru Geto is a cruel, cold-blooded murderer.

Days turn to weeks, you feel yourself get paler, wearier. It was pathetic in some way to be this despondent after a heartache, but here you were. You try to get on with your life; you, Shoko and Satoru; working as Jujutsu students during the day, but no one talks about the loneliness that claws at the three of you during the nights. No one even mentions him, its painfully obvious how the topics are shifted at the slightest mention of him...

You sigh, resting your head against the wall of the infirmary tiredly as the smell of the nicotine and smoke from Shoko's cig permeates through the room. Its nauseating.

"Shoko, can you not smoke?" you grumble in frustration and Shoko briefly glances at you, before continuing to smoke.

You take a deep shaky breath as you look at her with your eyes furrowed. "Shoko. put the cigarette down." You punctuate and she frowns but either way puts the cigarette down on the ashtray with a scoff.

"You are being a bitch right now." She scoffs as she walks towards you, leaning against the wall where you are sitting down.

"Well I am sorry if the smell is making me feel sick." You sigh, running your hands through your hair and she hums, her eyes briefly flickering to the wallpaper on your flip-phone, a picture of you and Suguru she herself had clicked on his last birthday.

"Did you eat since the morning?" she asks casually and you close your eyes, shaking your head.

"Didn't feel like it." You mutter before you feel her cool hand against your forehead, seeing if you are warm.

"I do not have a fever Suguru-- I mean Shoko." you correct yourself, but your voice dies down a whisper at your error. Her eyes soften lightly at your words and she sighs, plopping down on the floor next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for several minutes. The faint whirr of the infirmary fridge and light ticks of the wall clock being the only dominating sounds in the room.

"Have you ben sleeping?" she asks quietly and you let out a mirthless snigger.

"Can't remember the last time I did." you say and she breathes out.

"Me neither," she says, shifting her hands and resting them on her knees

"Shoko..." you croak out, gulping slightly. The sound immediately draws her attention as she whips her head towards you. "I missed my cycle..." you say and your voice wavers like a little sapling underneath a harsh storm.

Her eyes widen, slowly, gradually as it hits. She sucks a deep breath about to say something before the infirmary door opens harshly, Satoru holding two dango sticks in his hand, on the door sill.

"Yo." he says and you sigh, looking back at Shoko. Satoru's smile falters slightly as he looks at the both of you, noticing the tense atmosphere in the room. He looks at Shoko with a questioning look, his eyes then flicking over to you. Satoru had always been a brilliant observer, almost too brilliant. He frowns slightly at the way your face looks as you look at him, the look on your face making his heart feel heavy. "What's wrong?"

"I think I have kept some spare pregnancy tests in the infirmary." she says and Satoru's eyes widen he feels this strange sense of dread wash over him as he looks at you, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. "Wait...what?"

You look at Shoko get up and fetch them from the drawers. Satoru looking between the two of you anxiously. His blue eyes softened in worry.

You take the kits from Shoko and shakily gulp, looking at her as you sigh. It felt dystopian, taking a few deep breaths you walk into the washroom and follow the instructions, waiting for the three sticks to turn out.

Your breath seemed logdged in your throat. No matter how much your tried, it felt stuck. Suguru...you needed him. You needed your lover to take care of you, press you to his chest, whispering sweet-nothings. "Everything will be okay. Whatever decision you make I am going to be by your side, forever."

You gulp and look at the three sticks. Positive. All of them. Not even a single a negative one. Its always said these sticks are not a good measure for pregnancy test, but here there are all of them positive. Even if one turned out to be erroneous, the majority still said positive.

You felt your world shift in its axis...no- it stilled, completely. Your pbottom lip trembled as a soft hiccup left your throat, and as soon as that, a harsh knock rebounded on the door, making you flinch.

"Y/N?" Gojo sounded. He seemed frantic, panicked, worried. "Is everything alright?" You couldn't speak, little cries taht you tried so hard to stiffle left your mouth.

You could hear Satoru take a sharp breath outside, followed by Shoko's muffled voice. All at once he opened the door, his cerulean pupil shrunken as he looked at the three tests on the slab.

"Shit..." He gasped, his hand flying to his mouth as he hesitantly looked at you. His heart shattering at the sight of you so small, crying, shaking. Immediately he envolved his arms around you, pressing you to his chest...

"Its okay, its fine," he whispered but his own voice was shaky. Never in his life had he momentarily detested Suguru so much. He wanted to search every corner of the world, slap him and bring him back to you.

Shoko frowns slightly, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Do you..." She hesitates for a moment, looking at you and Satoru before she continues. "Do you want to keep it?" She asks you softly, her eyes flickering down to your stomach for a moment before looking back at your face. "You know it's your choice...it's your body. No one can force you to keep it if you don't want to."

You gulp sharply, your shoulders shivering against Satoru's broad chest. Your baby, you and Suguru's baby...you couldn't possibly give it up! You were a healer, your job was to save lives! How could you give on the testament of your and Suguru's love?

"No...I am keeping them." You whisper with an anguished look, parting from Satoru.

Shoko sighs softly as she looks at you with a conflicted look on her face. She knew that deep down, that's what you were going to decide. She knew that you could never get rid of the one thing that was keeping you tied to Suguru forever. No matter how hard your heart will ache every time you look at the child growing in your stomach, the child that looks or acts like him, the one thing that can keep him in your life forever. Shoko can tell from the bittersweet look on your face: you are going to keep this baby.

Satoru's heart aches at your words, the reality of the situation crashing down on his shoulders all at once. Here you are, pregnant with Suguru's baby, and Suguru isn't going to be here to see the baby. He isn't going to be here to help you with your cravings and your hormones, or to be there by your side, holding your hand as you scream and cry during birth. He isn't going to be there to see the baby's first steps, or the first time they say 'daddy'.

You couldn't help but look back at your phone's wallpaper, only to be interjected by Satoru.

"That kid is going to know how to curse people before they even know the times table." He says with a proud grin. Shoko sighs softly at Satoru's ridiculous declaration and rolls her eyes. "I'll teach them to get on your nerves before they're even born."

You let out a shaky breath and nod, tears rolling down your eyes. It was going to be terribly hard, you know that, but the burden would be slightly less with Shoko and Satoru on your side.

"Don't cry..." Satoru murmurs, wiping your tears with his thumb, "It'll be alright, you'll be a great mom." He says, his big cerulean eyes pooling with adoration as he looks at you.

Continued.

11 months later.... ── Chapter 2 : Moon Child

- FANFICTIONS

Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged in part 2. If you wanna be added to the permanent list:  Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!

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Tags for 'our youth': @ibukiaa, @yu22tas

[latenightdaydreams]

Can you write about Viking!Konig who's the leader of his clan. One time he raids a random village and meets fem!reader, who's beautiful with her hazel eyes and round breasts. Then he takes her as his wife!!!!! Ahhhhh I'm crazy about this. I'm sorry for asking too much 😭😭😭 BTW thank you for accepting my previous request ❤❤❤ love ya so muchhhhh

König is 100000% a boobie man and I will die on that hill😮‍💨 lmao, I LOVE this!!!! Don't ever feel bad for requesting. I'm having a bit of a writers block and this story helped me find my flow again🩷. I hope you're well and taking care of yourself🥰🥰

Viking!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, violence, naughty thoughts

1.0k word count

Part 2 Part 3

.

.

You wake up from your slumber hearing the screams from your neighbors in the small village you live in. You rush past your family who is now also scrambling to their feet, your husband rushing to gather himself as your children panic. You open your door slightly to see rooftops on fire and dead bodies lying in the roads.

Quickly, you close the door and turn to your husband with wide eyes, “Callum, it’s Vikings…” Your voice shakes with fear. You’ve heard stories from other villages about their attacks, leaving nothing but death and sorrow in their paths.

“We have to run, grab the children!” Callum whispers loudly as you stand there feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Everyone always assumed this village would be safe, untouchable, but this proved them all wrong.

Rushing to your children, you quickly squat down, “We are going to have to run, as fast as you can, okay?”

The children nod their heads crying, your oldest trying to be brave for you. Just then you all jump as the door is flung open. Screaming, you turn to see three big men and an equally large woman enter your home. An even bigger man, ducks to enter your home. Your eyes go wide seeing him, you’ve heard of the giant Viking man, but you assumed he was more of a myth to instill fear in people.

Using your body to shield your children as you step in front of them, you look to your husband. Callum seems to be frozen in fear, unable to even breathe. There’s a moment where no one moves and it’s quiet other than the sounds of your children crying.

The large man has a mask covering his face, his pale blue eyes are the only part of his face that is visible in the low light in the home. He has an aura about him that could strike fear in any warrior’s heart.

“P-please leave us, we don’t have much.” You speak up, your voice trembling.

The leader turns to two of the other Vikings and speaks to them in a language that you’ve never heard before. They nod and move to my husband, restraining him. He screams and the woman hits him, making you fear for your lives more. You look up wide eyed as the tall man begins to approach you.

König sees the family before him, a man frozen in fear, three children cowering behind their mother, and then their mother… you. A small but brave woman, brave enough to speak up when her husband couldn’t. It makes him impressed, wondering what type of woman could be so bold.

König approaches you with a hungry look in his eyes. His gaze drops down to the way the thin fabric of your nightgown clings to your body. Your breasts are massive and perfectly round, nipples hard and poking through the fabric. König has always loved a woman with large breasts and a little extra. Your breasts looking so perfectly full, his mind begins to wonder if you are still feeding your youngest. Your body is simply perfect for him.

“Name?” König asks in a low voice.

“Leave her alone!” Your husband shouts, trying to protect you. He gets hit by one of the people restraining him.

“I- I’m y/n.” You respond trying to be brave.

The closer he got the more his true size became obvious. The smell of his clothes-stained copper from the blood and his natural musk filled your nostrils. You feel small as he towers over you. His eyes are still wandering your body.

“I’m König.” He says finally.

He feels himself getting lost in your eyes as he takes in the beautiful color. You gaze up at him with the most stunning sage green eyes speckled with golden brown. The most beautiful hazel eyes he has ever seen. Gently he raises a hand to your face and caresses it, leaving a streak of blood behind. Your skin is so soft to his large and rough hand. He can only imagine the rest of you is this soft.

“Is this your husband?” He points to Callum.

“Yes, and these are our children. Please, we are simply farmers. We don’t have much.”

“Hm, I see.” König takes a deep breath and looks down at your breasts again. “Are you still feeding the youngest?”

“Y-yes…” You answer hesitantly wondering what type of question is that.

That is exactly what he wanted to hear. You are not only bold, daring, and beautiful; but also soft, desirable, and can create children for him. This is what he’s been looking for, and he finds you here. Wasting your milk on a weak man’s offspring.

“Perfect, you’ll be coming with me.”

Your jaw drops stunned as you look up at him shaking your head no, “I- I can’t leave my family. My husband-”

“That man? He’s not worthy of you. You deserve more, and I intend on giving it to you. Now please Liebling, don’t fight.”

König steps to you and grabs your arm to pull you away from your children. Your husband begins to yell at König, saying that he can’t do this. He can’t just take you. Your children stand confused, not understanding the whole situation completely while the youngest cries.

“Please, don’t.” You whimper, looking back at your family as he drags you away.

“You’ll be happy with me. You aren’t a farmer's wife, you’re a queen. My queen. Now come.” König scoops you up into his arms bridal style, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he carries you away from your small home.

“Don’t worry, my people will let your family live.” König whispers to you as he walks. His eyes are drifting down your body. He feels the anticipation rising as he begins to walk you back to his clan’s ship on the coast near your village. He wants you in his home, in his bed, undressed where he can enjoy you and gaze into your eyes as he makes you cum. Soon.

Part 2, Part 3

[pursuitseternal]

Congrats on 1500 followers! Can I please play your Smut Ask game? Please? 👉👈 🫣

19. “You’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “I’m all yours.”

Ft. Astarion x Reader

“I’m all yours…”

Act 3 Astarion x Reader

CW: tooth rotting fluff, mating press, creampie

No more Underdark, no more Shadow Curse…

Sunlight once more on your skin, and Astarion couldn’t bring himself to leave it. Rivington was loud and crowded, but you don’t care. Not when you can see him smiling again now that you managed your way through the darkness of Reithwith. Back in the City….

Back into the sun.

It took some convincing, but Gale finally agreed to let you and your love take an afternoon to lose yourselves in the light.

Just a picnic, you had offered to Astarion. Well, a basket of food for you, a scroll of lesser restoration, and your neck for him.

Away from the crowds and eyes now, you spread your blanket on the grassy hill. The sun at its zenith, you can feel it tingling and burning your skin.

But Astarion craves that, you realize, as he pulls off his cream, ruffled shirt and lays at your feet in naught but his leathers. You scan him, shaking your head. That smirk on his face already tells you it won’t be long before those warm brown trousers are set aside too. He picks up the scroll to heal you and giggles. “Somebody planned for some extensive aftercare,” his smirk deepens.

You just give him a knowing smile, flounce your skirts, and settle on the blanket beside him. His fingers tease the pale pink ruffles in the hem of it. “I didn’t think you would ever wear something so… delicate. I almost don’t recognize you without a shiny, metal can on your body.” His crimson eyes rake over your form, noticeably lingering on the skin that shows— your legs beneath your skirt, your forearms that dart from the short frilled sleeves, and your bosom that bursts out the top of your bodice. “…almost,” he breathes, eyes settling on the marks that have grown on the side of your neck.

One arm extends towards you. Your heart in your throat, and down you go, already laying alongside of him, sprawling in the sun and cradled by his arm. His cool breath wafts over your neck as he nuzzles your bite scars. “I only need a taste, I swear…” comes the age old request, his little ritual of asking each time, even if the answer is always the affirmative, whispered like a prayer from your lips.

His fangs sink in slowly, his skin warmed all over by the heat and radiation of the sun. You know, as your blood runs and courses through both your bodies, you know he actually feels alive.

He wants to live, and now, he feels like it—the bloom of life within from your blood, the blazing light of the sun on his pale skin.

It doesn’t take much to coax him, just a sweep of your hand across his lower back, and he’s on top of you, sucking loudly in your ear. That ruinous body of his slots between your thighs, and now you realize just why he had teased you so often to wear a dress for once.

His lips drink you down, but his hands, those cool, featherlight hands skate up your outer thighs. The whisper thin fabric of your skirt ghosts up more and more… until he’s rucked it up around your waist.

His voice tickles your ear as he moans into your neck. “Oh… darling, I can already feel how wet you are. All this… just for me?” Fingers tease your panties, right where your dampness gathers. “Such a display of carnal lust, you wanton minx. All this is mine… you’re all mine…”

“Hmm?” You pull yourself out of your hazy cocoon of bliss and warmth, your body growing warmer and more aroused by your lover’s weight and the sun’s heat.

“Say it,” he orders, punctuating his command with a roll of his hips into your mound, even as his fingers press that damp gusset of your underthings to catch you clit.

You loll your head back to center, opening your half-lidded eyes to look up at him. Sunlight glows like a halo around his silken, silver hair, making it hard to see anything of his face than the gleaming crimson of his eyes. Your answer bubbles to your tongue as you lift your hips. “I’m yours, all yours,” you breathe.

“If that doesn’t just warm my undead heart,” he purrs. “How about a treat for my treat… it is a summer picnic after all…”

His mouth presses sweetly and softly against your lips. Wet and insistent, his tongue presses between your lips, and you let him in. He squishes your breasts as he shifts his weight, his hands hurrying to free his cock as he just lowers his leathers enough. That warmed, blunt cock head teases your entrance, your panties barely a barrier between you; and it’s one he so easily conquers with a slight tug of his finger.

“There we go,” he purrs as inch by inch he fills you. He’s slow and tender, working inside you with gentle rolls of his hips. All is warm and heavy, full and undulating. His mouth is locked to yours, his cock buried deep in your sex. And you have to keep your eyes closed, the light of the sun almost as blinding as how brightly he burns for you.

Drowning in the rhythm of his fucking, you are swept further into your bliss with every roll of his hips. His cock, thick and perfect, drags across every inch of your cunt, catching those places that make your spine arch and your belly coil with heat. Hot within, hot without. He presses his heavy frame into you, driving you into the blanket and dirt. He groans in your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood still strong on his tongue. Wave after consuming wave, his thrusts snap against you, that addictive flesh-slapping sound muffled by your simple skirts. He grins, lifting your thighs to press them to your chest. Your cunt bare to the light and revealed to the sun, now his thrusts echo in your ear and down your spine.

He floods you with pleasure, all your skin exposed for his touch. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing against your flesh ragged. He’s near, so near… just a little more and you know he will tingle with pleasure in his balls and warm with bliss from the inside out.

A roar in your ear, and he fills you, coating you with cum deep inside your cunt. It’s enough to make you tremble and cling, to buck and writhe as your match him in his climax.

Hot all over. And just as loved.

Your hands trace the scars on his back, thier rises and ridges familiar by heart. But for now, his skin’s heat matches the afterglow of that slow-rolling passionate love making.

He’s warm and sweet, mischievous and cunning…. And he’s all yours.

Smut Ask List | Astarion Masterlist

[zomtart]

Day Off (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

this is inspired by the lovely Tuna Team and also because I realized I’ve never seen a fic of reader taking care of sick Frank. No established relationship in this one but LOOOOOTS of tension they’re just both too stupid to realize it :D

Content Warnings: p*king (not too descriptive), brief mention of injuries, veeeeery sick Frank, reader who matches Frank’s stubbornness <3

Word Count: 1.3k

It was your day off, and you were making the most of it. You slept in until 10am, cooked your favorite breakfast, wore your softest pajamas, and grabbed your comfort book. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The world was at ease. 

…for about twenty minutes.

You were just about to brew your second cup of mocha when you heard the faint sound of groaning. Halting your reach for your coffee mug, the edges of your lips started to turn down as the noise continued. It seemed far away and muted. It seemed like it was…coming from next door.

You stared at the wall for a second before shaking your head. No. No! It was your day off. Frank had your number. He’d call you if he’d need you…right?

When has that ridiculous man ever asked for help?

But he only ever did his…job in the dark. And you had heard him come home last night, even checked out the door to ensure no trail of blood followed him. Surely he hadn’t gone out again. Surely he was fine. 

A loud crash erupted from the wall, so hard you could almost feel it shake in the floorboards.

Goddamnit.

You ran to the door immediately, snatching Frank’s spare key and not bothering with shoes. Stupid, stupid man. Couldn’t he stay out of trouble for one day? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with him, but you had to admit you’d much prefer spending time with him when it wasn’t stitching his wounds up.

The moment you stepped through the door you were calling out his name, looking for signs of a break-in or injury. There wasn’t any blood or weapons, but his kitchen table vase lay shattered on the floor. The sight made your stomach turn, along with the fact that he hadn’t seemed to notice you had come inside. Frank was nothing if not alert.

“Frank? Frank!” You swore under your breath, wishing you had brought your taser. “If you’re--if you’re fucking with me right now I swear to god…”

There was another groan from down the hallway and without thinking you ran down to the end of the hall and pushed open the bathroom door. 

“Frank—“

You immediately turned away at the sight of Frank kneeling over the toilet, a hand pressed over your mouth as you smelled puke. As a nurse, you unfortunately dealt with this a lot, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gross. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Frank sounded mad, and you couldn’t quite blame him. However, you weren’t about to let your own anger go so easily.

“I thought you were fucking dying! God, did you hook a boombox up to your intestines?”

“Leave,” he mumbled around a groan that lacked any sort of strength, and not just because his throat was hoarse. He sounded exhausted. More exhausted than you’ve ever heard him, including when he had bullet holes in his torso. He was clearly in no state to be alone. 

You blinked. “You do know there’s a broken vase on your kitchen floor right?”

He breathed your name, exhaling roughly through his nose. He closed the toilet and collapsed against it, letting his head hang backward. 

“I’m fine. You see I’m not dying, yeah? Now go.”

“Well you’re not far from it.” you crossed your arms. His grouchy mood would likely have turned most people away, but you knew him. Christ, you could see how much pain he was in. Sweat coated his temples, his face pale, his nose red. You knew he needed help, and a little arguing from him wasn’t going to scare you off. “Frank, you’re not fine. I don’t even think you can walk back to your bed. I’m not leaving you. Not like this.”

“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles, trying to stand up. Keyword: trying. He immediately stumbled, and you were right there to catch him. 

You grunted as his weight fell into yours, the two of you working to get him back upright. 

“Jesus—fucking—yeah. Yep, you can totally take care of yourself. Can totally stand on your own.” you shook your head, grabbing one of his arms and slinging it over your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

He mumbled something under his breath as he began to walk out of the bathroom with your support.

“That better have been a thank you.”

Once you got him into bed, with heavy groans from the both of you, you stared at him with your hands on your hips. 

“Alright. I’m gonna…well. Do you have food in this house that I can make into soup? Or just tubs of spam?” 

He pressed a pillow over his head, and that’s when you realized how badly he was sweating. And shaking. You swore under your breath and knelt down at this side, gently removing the pillow from his face and placing a hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up.” you murmured. “Where do you keep the towels?”

“No.” he responded immediately, flinching away from your touch. “I’m not getting you sick. It’s your day off, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re not going to g--how did you know that?”

“You told me,” he said nonchalantly, swallowing around a sore throat with a wince.

You blinked, recalling that you mentioned how you finally got a day off…but you could have sworn you told him that a week ago. Did he really remember that?

“I’m not going to sit here and give you whatever the hell I have.” he said roughly. “Just leave.”

“Did you hear me the first time?” you placed your hands on your hips. “I said no. You’re in no condition to be by yourself. I’m a nurse. I know when someone needs help. If I have to force you to accept that help, then so be it. Where do you keep your towels?”

There was a long bout of silence where you both stared at each other, the tension of your conjoined stubbornness almost tangible in the air. When he realized you weren’t going to give in, almost at the same time you realized he was finally too tired to fight you back on this, he sighed loudly. 

“Bathroom. Third drawer to the left.”

You huffed and started walking past him. “Thank you. Was that so difficult?”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” 

“Another weird way of saying thank you…” you trailed off as you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with lukewarm water.

“You never listen to anything I…say…” Frank’s arguing ceased as you pressed the washcloth to his forehead, and he just about melted in your hands. “Fuck…” 

“Feels nice, huh?” you smiled a little, feeling that familiar warmth you always got when you got to take care of people. Or Frank, specifically. You weren’t sure when that feeling had tailored to him exclusively. 

“Yeah, yeah…” his eyes drooped shut and he leaned against the towel, the edge of his cheek sinking into your palm. With your other hand, you brushed some of his sweaty hair away from his forehead. He hummed lowly, shamelessly reaching for your hand and pressing it back to his face. Your eyebrows shot up at the show of affection, a thing he rarely gave out.

It must be the fever. 

“I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

“No,” he groaned. “Head hurts. Just…just stay here. Need the towel.”

“You also need to eat.”

“Will you just listen to me?”

You rolled your eyes, using your index finger to tuck some hair behind his ear. “For a few more minutes.” 

In the end, it didn’t matter. He fell asleep within moments.

[pinkmirth]

Wait imagine being enemies to lovers with alucard

now, i love the sound of this! ( i think about it more than i should, tbh . . .) a mostly harmless , banter-like dynamic is what comes to mind, similar to what he’s got going on with trevor. you’re a sharp woman with an even sharper mouth, and as much as he admires your tenacity, alucard isn’t one to hold back from delivering his own petty retorts. you throw jabs at the vampiric man, and more often than not, he’ll bite.

at times, real disagreements ensue— over the proper way to effectively kill night creatures, how to reduce any casualties, how you think he’s passive, and how he sees you to be so incredibly brash. you’re defensive about doing things your way, as is he. you know how two people are just going at each other’s throats until they’ve found themselves face to face, chests heaving from the heat of their argument? yeah, that’s exactly where you find yourself now; alucard standing only inches before you, blonde brows drawn together with his cheeks dusted red from what you assume to be boiling rage.

once you finally acknowledge how slim the proximity between you is, you step away and coil your expression into one of distaste, attempting to mask the thrill of having him so close that his nose almost brushed yours. “you’re disgustingly pretentious,” you try snapping at him, though he can hear that bitter, mocking tone of your diminish. is it just him, or is he catching onto a bit of . . . softness? from someone like you, towards someone like him? it couldn't be. you can hardly stand him, anyway. he's sure that the only one harboring any affections, even in the slightest, is him. as much as you boil his blood and make his head spin, you're also able to make him laugh, motivate him to new heights. not that he'd ever admit it, though. you'd probably punch him square in the face.

“and you're far too stubborn. it wouldn't kill you to adapt, you know." he grunts, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. would it be wrong of you to admit just how beautiful he is? "it might. i surely won't be taking my chances," you bump past him using your shoulder, and he scoffs upon impact. just as you attempt to zoom past the man, his lithe hand encircles your wrist and pulls you back into him.

against the wall is where you find yourself, with his tall, firm body keeping you pressed there. alucard's grasp is unrelenting, and he's far too strong for you to even try pulling away. his long, golden hair drapes over you, curtaining over you so that the only thing you can see is his cold, glowing eyes. "must you make everything so . . . fucking difficult?" you pray he can't hear it; the erratic thumping of your heart.

“unhand me, you fuck.” he does not. you've pushed him to the edge for the very last time. "why on earth do i put up with you?" he sourly chuckles, as though he's asking himself rather than you. he watches your shaken gaze scour his entire face— from his piercing eyes to his pale-pink lips. you're staring, hard. he much rather prefers gaining this kind of attention from you.

“then don't. i never asked you to." you spit, trying to yank away with no avail. he only shakes his head, closing in on you. at this rate, his lips and your own could practically touch.

“i can’t just leave you alone,” he rasps. you listen with a deep pause, and your breath is caught in your throat. “haven’t you noticed? as irksome as your company is, i can’t seem to go without it.” you finally understand— alucard, of all people, has taken a liking to you.

“so, you’re attached?” your laughter is taunting, and somehow, he’s come to love it. “unhealthily so.” he breathes out. his bottom lip grazes yours, and you shudder at even the slightest contact. god, how he’s already ruined you. “and what exactly will you do about that, alucard?” you call his name with a feigned amount of spite, and your lashes flutter up at him in that provoking way . . . fuck, he can feel himself getting harder beneath his trousers. alucard gives you this particular look, and that’s how you know he won’t be telling you— the man’s about to take initiative and show you, just as you’re always telling him to.

a deep, breathless kiss is what you get in response, one where his mouth are pressed to yours in a way where you can bite at his lower lip and he can groan into your mouth. he knew you’d like it this way— messy, heated, desperate. you suck at his tongue and cup his face, breaking away only after you’ve gotten a proper taste of him. you feel something firm nudge your thighs, and it gets you to peer down and take notice of his apparent bulge, straining at his fitted black pants.

“god, you’re pathetic,” your lips curve into a smile, teasingly taking his bottom lip between your teeth. you bring your knee up to press against his crotch, and his moan comes out sounding so broken. only the stars above could explain why your insults rouse him as much as they do. alucard pecks your lips once, then twice, with a quickness he knows will leave you chasing for more.

“for you, perhaps i am.”

[darby-rowe]

maybe could we do a sub!coryo getting pegged by dom!reader and shes going super hard on him like spanking him,grabbing his hair and pulling him back against her cock? could we add some mommy kink in there too 🤭🤭

im so sorry i keep leaving my asks in the dust akskfks i write so slow im so sorry 😩

but anon this is such a hot idea. as a society we need to acknowledge the fact that coryo more than likely has a mommy kink

18+ | nsfw | mdni

cw mommy kink

coryo has a major attitude problem due to his unresolved trauma, and a common outlet he uses to vent his frustrations and express his emotions is letting you fuck the absolute shit out of him.

you can't recall how it happened the first time, but after coryo finally let you peg him, cooing in his face and calling him a good boy, he became obsessed with your silicone dick. and now you use this newfound kink as a way to 'tame' him when he's being exceptionally bratty.

you'd go out shopping in public, and you'd have to withstand coryo's complaining on how hot/cold it is outside, or how it's too crowded, or blah blah blah, etc. and by god did it get on your last nerve. was there anything in this world that coryo didn't complain about?

the last straw came and went whenever you wanted to try on a few dresses and coryo just let out the bitchiest sigh you ever heard. he didn't even say anything, and yet it made your blood absolutely boil.

so now fast forward and you have coryo on his knees in between your legs as you fuck his throat with your strap, watching his pretty blue eyes well up with tears as he gargles and gags on your silicone cock.

"that's it, baby," you purr, tangling your fingers in his soft blonde curls and guiding him back and forth on your dick. "such a nice little cocksucker, aren't ya? i guess those pretty lips are good for something else other than being a fucking brat,"

you softly wipe his tears away before plunging your cock down his throat, groaning at how hard he grips your thighs before letting him come up for air. and those wet baby blues of his never fail to get you going.

“say you love sucking my cock, brat,” you command, gripping tightly onto his hair. the whimper that emits from his throat has your knees feeling like water.

“i love…” he pants, gulping down saliva. “i love sucking your cock, mommy,”

absolutely delicious.

and one thing about coryo is that he is loud; especially when you have your cock balls-deep inside his ass, pulling him back by the hair and thrusting with everything you have. your pelvis smacks against the flesh of his ass, and he is nearly in tears from how rough you are. but it feels so, so good.

“mommy, please,” coryo babbles incoherently how good your cock feels inside him, or how you’re being too rough. his whimpers and mewls sound so fucking good coming from his swollen, spit-covered lips. “please, slow down. you’re so big. so deep. i can’t take it, mommy,”

“no, baby, you’re gonna take this cock like a good boy,” you pant, planting a hard smack! against the pale flesh of coryo’s ass. he lets out another whimper. “if you want me to slow down and be nicer, you’re gonna have to learn to not be such a fucking pompous brat. in the meantime, you’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna cum as many times as i see fit,”

and so you proceed to fuck him until he’s so dumb and blissed out that you can barely understand a word he’s saying — until he’s only repeating, “mommy, i can’t stop cumming”, and “my ass feels so good”, and “thank you, mommy”.

at the end of the night, you of course bring him the absolute best aftercare you can muster. you run him a bath, give him sweet kisses all over his pretty, tear-stained face, and make sure you tell him how much you really love him.

[mackandcheezy]

Don't Blame Me (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: I have yet to see ABAOSAS so simply this is for the vibes, major plot changes from the book/ movie so dont mind that, simply I saw a hot morally grey man and decided I can fix him so this is for all the girlies with a toolbelt ;) 

His eyes had been glued to the screen for what felt like hours. The little specs of graininess following his vision everytime he blinked. Coriolanus Snow did not falter for anyone-- that was until he met you. Something about your blind optimism reminded him of a child, and god how he hated children, but somehow on you it was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. It made something warm start in his chest, and little fires erupt in every nerve. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, he hated it, and yet he couldn’t get enough. And now he was going to watch the only thing that made him feel that way slip between his fingers like nothing more than a single snowflake. At some point the snow had to melt and here he was watching it live. 

He kept replaying that last conversation over and over. “I’m going to survive, there is no if,” he remembered how you brushed your fingers across his cheek through the rusty bars of the zoo. If he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough he could feel the warmth of your fingers against his face again. He refused to remember the single tear and question that had prompted that response. This could not be a one time thing. He just got you and there was no letting you go now. Love is a drug and he was nothing but an addict. 

Coryo was jolted to reality when he noticed another tribute sneaking up behind you. He couldn’t remember his name. There was no point, the only one that mattered was the victor and that was you. It had to be you. 

Staring into the depths of your form he begged you to wake. The bile was already crawling up his throat burning a trail in its wake. Stomach clenched he closed his eyes as he heard what could only be described as a battle cry leave the murderer’s mouth. 

Three seconds. He was allowing himself three seconds of grief before he had to move on. To survive. Snow falls on top and he faltered for you but now it was over and he had to go on. 

That was until he opened his eyes to your form. You were standing over the tribute, eyes wide as the saucers that Grandma’am used to take tea in. A bloody knife dripped blood down your pale dress leaving you in a haunting shade of wet red down your right side. He didn’t remember you having that, deciding you must have fought the tribute for it, you always were good at getting what you wanted, especially from him. You took his every waking thought like it was nothing so what was a knife? 

“I killed him. He’s dead. I killed him..” Coryo could do nothing but watch as you spiraled within the tunnel. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you that this was nothing more than a bad dream. Though part of him knew that in a way the person who brushed his cheek was gone. 

He quickly fixed the look of concern dawning his face, remembering how you had told him once that his “human was showing.” That single thought gracing the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

In a twisted way seeing you covered in a thick sheet of red brought him comfort. A small part of him knew that was wrong. Knew that his comfort came at the cost of a human life. But none of them deserved to live as much as you did. Now he knew you could do it, knew you had what it took to win, with the added bonus of having a weapon. He had not felt so much joy since hearing of the opportunity to go to University. You were the key to his new life, and it started now. 

He remembered thinking you were weak when he offered you the posion and you declined citing that “cheaters never win.” Coriolanus felt the entire essence of his personality crumble when those words left your perfectly pink lips. It set something inside of him aflame. You made him almost want to be a good person, almost, because if anything happened to you he would do whatever it took no matter the cost. He was ready to put his own future at risk for the assurance of knowing that you would live to see tomorrow's sunrise. Because you deserved a tomorrow more than he ever did. 

The games were coming to a close. Only a few tributes left and he watched intently as you moved around the arena. Even caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else, he had never seen a figure more beautiful. 

He couldn’t help but allow himself to think of you adorned in the luxuries of the capitol. An egregious dress adorning your shoulders and your hair in some unnatural twist. Somehow it never looked as good as you did right now. Raw and natural, locks framing your face in small clumps. You were going to get out of this and he was going to get you out of those crummy districts. You deserved more than any of those pathetic traitors, and he was going to get you that. One way or another. 

[nixiefics]

Submit

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: Smut, public sex, p in v, cunnilingus, rough (if you squint)

Aegon is a man obsessed.

Ever since the incident in his chamber a mere two nights ago, he cannot not rid himself of the feel of you. How your hair brushed his cheeks, how soft your skin was against his hand and your smell - it was as if you had cast a spell to have it constantly follow him around.

He imagines your giggles as a response to a different kind of touch and groans; it would seem as if he would be in a constant state of arousal until he could devise a plan to rid himself of these thoughts. It's slightly embarrassing that he cannot control himself - like a little boy discovering the pleasures of women for the first time.

Gods, he has known the pleasures of women for years and yet the mere thought of you seems to cause his body to overload with raw hunger. He could have you for an eternity and it would still not be enough.

You are giggling with a lady he does not recognize, a plain thing, about something or another but all Aegon can focus on is the delicious image of your mouth as a dollop of cream is left behind in the left corner. Your tongue darts out to clear it and Aegon wishes he could violently throw himself from the balcony to avoid the sudden rush of more blood to his lower body.

"Are you quite alright, Aegon?" Alicent appears suddenly and Aegon chokes on his own tongue, trying in vain to shift his body so as not to offend his mother. "You look pale, darling."

Your eyes dart to his with concern, a silent question. He wants to scream, rage at everyone to leave you alone with him - he wants to-

"The sun is bright today." he swallows as he gulps a particularly good vintage of Arbor Red; It's tasteless. "Too hot."

Alicent smooths a hand over his forehead and he wishes she would disappear - it feels more like smothering with her, sometimes. She takes a seat instead, on his left side and reaches for a pastry as she listens to you and the… whoever she is, prattle on.

"Going to my room." Aegon mumbles and drains his cup. "Tired of being outside." He needs release.

He nods at his guard and whispers something to another, and you watch him with a forlorn expression. He had been acting very strange lately and you wondered if you had taken your teasing too far the other night. It had been unintentional, just a testing of the boundaries, but he had swiftly ordered you to bed and slammed the door in your face leaving you feeling… hollow.

Your feelings for Aegon had always been immeasurable. He was the first boy who had given you attention - positive attention - and he was the only man you now felt secure around. You knew his marriage to Helaena was purely practical, a way to secure a claim he might or might not have, but you still felt jealous of your friend - that she knew him so intimately.

You blink as the sun glances off one of Lady Connington's bracelets. She was a fine enough conversationalist, but you would rather be with Aegon just laying down in an alcove somewhere and not saying anything. Gods, you need to ask a Maester for something for headaches.

"You are pale as well, Y/N." Alicent sighs, "Have you and Aegon been staying up late in the halls again?"

You want to snap that her son is grown and can do what he pleases but hold your tongue, lest you lose it. "No, Your Grace, I have not seen Aegon until this morning."

She frowns at your words and glances to where her eldest has disappeared. It is odd for you to not be in Aegon's company. Alicent had always been wary of your friendship with her son; feeling that it undermined everything she worked so hard to cultivate but it became evident that you did make Aegon happy and so she contented herself with the gossip of castle staff - you had not ever been abed together.

"Perhaps it is a summer flu, Your Grace." Lady Connington says, winking at you as she sips at her wine. "I have heard the smallfolk are getting light symptoms."

It is enough to divert Alicent's attention. Yes, that must be it; nothing untoward that a tincture from Maester Orwyle could not fix.

The night is warm, as only one in King's Landing could be. You're not sure how you managed it but you had found out from Aegon's sworn guard Ser Erryk that Ser Arryk had escorted him to the Dragon Pit. Aegon adored Sunfyre more than anything in the world and often snuck out to see him; when he wasn't in the Street of Silk, that is.

The Dragonkeepers eye you warily but allow you to pass into the caves unencumbered. Sunfyre was used enough to you that he would not cause much havoc. It is a familiar path as you step lightly past the lairs of Dreamfyre and the others, careful not to disturb their rest. The caves are sweltering, something you had never gotten used to, and you are grateful that you remembered to only dress in the lightest gown you had.

"Egg?" you call as you near Sunfyre's little corner. He is huddled against her side, eyes lazy as he clutches a bottle to his chest. No wonder Arryk had looked nervous outside.

"Wouldn’t let me take him out." Aegon slurs, "S'my damned dragon, can do what I like."

You smile and bow your head to the golden dragon, who is appraising his rider as if he had lost his mind - perhaps he had. "I doubt Sunfyre feels like a midnight flight, Egg. Why don't we just sit with him?"

Aegon hiccups and shakes his head, turning away from you as he takes another swig of his drink. He seems very upset with you and you are left speechless; not ever had Aegon gone without resolving a disagreement - not that you knew what this one was about.

Sunfyre adjusts himself as you approach, allowing you to perch against his leg and huffs a hot breath at you. If he could speak, you're sure he would be telling you to fix whatever is wrong with his rider.

"What is the matter, Aegon?" you ask tenderly, licking your lips to add some moisture to them. "You seem… put out by something."

He huffs and whirls to face you. "Women! I can't… why are you all so complicated?"

Taken aback, you laugh. It's not what he wants to hear and violently throws the bottle of liquor against the nearest wall, staggering to his feet.

"S'not fair, that… you all just get to hide your," he blinks for a moment and looks at you with a squint. "You can all just hide your hunger under dresses and pretty smiles. We… us men have to suffer the fucking embarrassment of being so… engorged! It's not fair!"

"You're not making sense, Egg." you whisper, hesitant that he might lash out in his drunken state. "I don't know what you mean?"

"I came in my pants." he yells, startling Sunfyre. The beast growls low and you swallow thickly as you move away tentatively. "Oh, sod it, you smug beast. You're allowed to have one over whichever pretty dragon you like! I came in my pants the other night from a stupid touch against her backside!"

You balk and shoot to your feet, not believing your own ears. "Aegon-

"You've bewitched me, Y/N." he is close now, the smell of mead on his breath almost too much. "You haunt my every thought - how you would moan and writhe… it's maddening."

You stand there, bathed in the eerie glow of the dragon cave, with its massive, shadowy form looming in the background. Aegon, his eyes glazed over from too much drink, sways slightly as he leans in closer to you. His breath, warm against your skin, carries the scent of ale and adventure.

In this moment, the air between you crackles with a tension that’s palpable, almost suffocating. You can feel the heat of his gaze, intense and hungry, as he inches closer, his lips mere inches from yours. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this enchanted cavern.

Your heart races with anticipation, your pulse echoing in your ears like a drumbeat. His hand reaches up, tentative yet eager, to brush against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve in your body tingles with anticipation, yearning for the moment his lips finally meet yours.

But just as your lips are about to touch, Aegon’s expression shifts. His eyes widen in alarm, and before you can react, he lurches forward, his stomach heaving. The spell is broken as he retches at your feet, the sound echoing off the cavern walls.

Disappointment floods through you, mingled with a hint of amusement at the absurdity of the situation. Sunfyre, observing the scene with a curious tilt of its head, seems to share in your bemusement.

With a sigh, you realize that this moment was not meant to be. Gathering your composure, you call Ser Arryk, who emerges from around the corner and observes the spectacle with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Help me get him back to his room,” you say, your voice tinged with resignation. Together, you and Arryk lift Aegon’s limp form, carrying him out of the cave and back to his chambers, leaving behind the almost-kiss that never was. As you walk, you can't help but wonder what might have been, the taste of what almost happened lingering on your lips like a bittersweet promise unfulfilled.

Aegon avoids you for a week.

You've been on edge for what feels like an eternity. Every moment without his presence is a torment, a gnawing ache that refuses to be ignored. It's been a week since that almost-kiss, a moment suspended in time, fraught with anticipation and desire; leaving you standing there, lips tingling with the ghost of what could have been, while he stumbled off, retching embarrassingly in front of you.

Since that fateful moment, Aegon's been avoiding you like the plague. Your notes go unanswered and your attempts to bump into him accidentally-on-purpose met with swift evasions. The frustration builds within you like a storm, thundering in your chest with each passing day.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you decide to confront him. You track him down at his favourite tavern, where he sits alone in a back room, nursing a cup of his favourite Arbor Red. As you approach, he looks up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it's quickly masked by a guarded expression.

"We need to talk," you say, your voice trembling with pent-up emotion.

He nods slowly, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. The air between you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

"What's going on, Aegon?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I... I don't know," he admits, his voice tinged with regret.

"That's not good enough," you insist, your tone sharper now. "We almost kissed, Aegon. You've been avoiding me ever since. I need to know why."

He meets your gaze then, his eyes haunted with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "Because I've wanted you for so long," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I never thought you felt the same way. And then when we were finally close, I... I got sick, and I thought you'd be repulsed by me."

Your heart aches at his words, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at your own insecurities. "You're an imbecile," you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

He looks up, surprise flickering in his eyes at your touch. "I know," he says softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I meant what I said. You're the best thing in my life, and I want to make you happy."

A rush of warmth floods through you at his words, melting away the walls you'd built around your heart. "I want that too, Aegon," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "I've always wanted that."

You sit together in the small room, Aegon's gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the candle as he reaches out to gently cup your face in his hands.

The air is filled with anticipation, a tangible electricity that seems to crackle between you. With a tender smile, Aegon leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate caress. The touch is light at first, a gentle exploration that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

But as the kiss deepens, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of pure connection. His lips are warm and inviting, a perfect match to the softness of your own as they move together in a dance of passion and longing.

You can feel the beat of his heart beneath his chest, steady and strong, matching the rhythm of your own. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you, lost in the blissful embrace.

You moan as his lips feather their way over your cheek, down your neck and to a sensitive spot that makes you almost limp with pleasure. Gods, his lips feel good. His hands even more so because they travel from their spot on your waist and up, to cup your breast through your gown, and down to the curve of your behind. The flesh is lush in his hands and Aegon swears under his breath as you tug at his hair, a plead for more leaving your lips.

He hates the idea of taking you here, in a dirty tavern on the Street of Silk but his thoughts are sharply halted when your hand travels from his chest to his erection. Every sane thought he had harboured until then, disappears into thin air at the sight of your hand cupping him through his breeches. "Fuck."

He lurches forward, claiming your mouth again and you're left breathless as his hands dig into your arse, lifting you onto the table and scrambling to get his hands under your skirt. "You are a marvel."

He kisses his way down your neck again, nibbling that flesh that he so dreamed about for so long. It is more divine than he could have imagined and he groans as you tug at his curls again; just as Aegon's fingers reach down to hook into the seat of your underwear. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, he murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with you and taste you and fuck you until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach a pitch that would be audible to the patrons outside. Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"So fucking wet," The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, his lashes fluttering as his thumb teases the treasure at the very cusp of you. Then his lips stop moving against your chest as he suddenly drops to his knees and stares up at you - it is a heady sight. His hands scramble for your skirts and you see him smile like a child who has been given a boiled sweet.

"If there is a heaven, woman, it is here." he mumbles, trailing his lips along your inner thigh gently. A soft moan falls from your lips as he swirls his tongue around your needy pearl, awarding you the attention he earlier denied.

“Aegon,” you moan, thighs clenching against his head.

His hands wrap around your thighs, pressing them to the table so he can continue feasting. Aegon’s tongue moves lower, dipping inside your centre, lips parting your folds. He moves his mouth in such a way, eating and kissing you all at once. The pleasure is almost too much to bear and as he pushes his tongue completely inside you, you begin to shake, almost reaching your peak.

You’re tugging at his hair with every movement, angling your hips just so and then…

"Fuck, love, look at how beautiful you are…" the scowl down at him as the feeling of euphoria starts to dim but he merely wipes his mouth sloppily before leaning in to kiss you again, whispering. "Don't pout, darling, you shall have what you crave but only when I say you can."

You hadn't even noticed that he had freed himself from his breeches until you feel his cock stretching out the beginning of your entrance. Aegon sinks into you with a stuttered gasp, lazily thrusting into your tight heat. The pain that comes from him splitting you clean in half is short-lived, pleasure creeping its way up your spine.

You cry out as he thrusts into you, hitching your leg around his waist as he rolls his hips into yours.

“Such a good girl,” he croons, as tears leak from the corners of your eyes, “look at that greedy little cunt, taking my cock so well.”

You throw your head back against the wood, arching your back as waves of pleasure wash over you, both from Aegon’s thrusts and the sweet words he whispers to you.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he praises, burying his face against your chest.

He suckles at your breasts, leaving scattered red marks across them that will surely bloom into purple bruises the following day. Dragging his hot tongue over your nipple he bites the puckered nub harshly and you tangle your hands in his hair, yanking harshly at the roots.

Aegon lets out a breathy laugh, slamming his hips against you until your jaw slacks and your grip loosens. He brings a hand to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it loosely. His rings are icy and you whimper, pupils blown with lust.

“Now I will never let you go.” Aegon taunts, the sound of wet slapping echoing throughout the room, “You are the sweetest addiction - one I would happily give every other one up for.”

You can only moan as he sloppily kisses you. You can feel your walls pulsating around his cock, stomach clenching so tightly you feel you may break in half.

“That’s it, take all I have to give you,” Aegon murmurs, as your walls flutter against him.

Your belly warms as your orgasm hits you, and with a few final thrusts Aegon pulls out suddenly, coating your stomach with strings of his pearly white release. He watched you as you drag your fingers through it before shoving them through your parted lips; savouring the taste of him with a moan.

You watch him, with curiously as he watches the way your fingers trace the shape of your lips. Then those perfect eyes meet yours and he drags himself from your between your legs, fixing his trousers and tugging your skirts back into place.

"To bed, then." he places an uncommonly tender kiss to your forehead. "I wish to devour you, still."

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to drop a quick note about something that really helps me out. If you’re enjoying my fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear it! However, simply hitting the 'like' button doesn’t help spread my work for others to see and enjoy.

If you could use the 'reblog' button and share your thoughts in the comments, it would make a huge difference. Reblogging promotes my work to a wider audience, and your feedback (both the good and the constructive) helps me improve my writing.

Thank you so much for your support and understanding!

Best,

💕 Nixie 💕

[silassinclair]

hiiii💙💙💙

i just have a request about Maddox but i want to start with saying english is not my first language and secondly i LOVE your writings, they are sooo good like i just read them again and again and again......

so about my request, its like a story but i just hope you will understand what im trying say

So darling and him while running away from the law Maddox face some other outlaws or having a duel he gets shot, some bad wounds or whatever and darling has no choice but runaway. Before running away darling says that she loves him and will wait for him, something like that.

After two years darling and Maddox meet again (can be when he is leaving a saloon or when he is stealong from the people on the road who is just moving from town to another town) Darling doing really great, she has a small but cute house, she has a great job paying her greatly BUT darling carrying a child

BIG SUPRISE its his child

Yes!

When darling was runing away she was pregnant but didnt tell him cuz she was afraid of his reaction

Anyway him and darling talk about what happened after she runaway, how she manages to live, about the child

so the thing is how he will react about all of this, i mean he has a child and a cute house he can live with darling but he has to run from the laws. Would he somehow live with darling or will he take darling and his child with him and keep runing

I know its long but i tried so hard to make it short and i hope you undertand it AND if you want you can ignore it

💙🤍 I LOVE YOU 💙🤍

UWWAAHH THIS IS SO CUTE <3 I’m about to cook so hard with this one ya’ll aren’t ready 🥶

Masterlist Here!!

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Long Lost Lover Reader

CW// Pregnancy, Gun Violence, Blood, Suicide Mention, Maddox kills pedophiles, Pedophilic comments

“Shhh! Just stop! Stop talking!” Y/n wept as her s/c hand put pressure over Maddox’s oozing bullet wound. Her skin was stained with his crimson blood. The whole world was collapsing down on her. Maddox, her husband, was dying. He was losing so much blood and those damn bounty hunters were getting closer.

Coming to this town was a mistake. It was a fucking trap and they walked right into it. It was a false rumor spread to lure Maddox to the bank. It was supposed to be unguarded; and instead of cash and gold in the vault there was a lethal group of bounty hunters unloading their bullets in a barrage right at Maddox.

The masked outlaw coughed, hacking up some blood. Y/n and Maddox were lucky to get away. Using all her strength she pulled his body into a neighboring saloon and hid with him behind the bar. The outlaw's tearing brown eyes looked into Y/n’s with a mixture of emotion. Adoration and despair. Because he knew this will be the last time will ever see her again.

“Sweetheart, princess please look at me..” He utters. Y/n can barely hear him over the gunshots and screams from around. But her ears are honed to only listen to his voice at the moment. He is all she sees and hears.

“Untie my bandana… Use it to pack the wound.” The paling man says.

Her eyes widen at his request. Her and Maddox have been in so many life or death situations. All of them they have escaped narrowly. Maddox has had mortal wounds, he’s bled countless times over the years. But never, never has he taken that bandana off. Even when they kissed he would tell her to shut her eyes and she would obey, respecting his privacy. When they made love the lights would be off or she would be blindfolded. His face was a mystery that she always wanted to solve.

She imagined the say he showed her his face they would be watching a sunset. Or maybe laying underneath the star in a romantic setting. But now… It’s different. She doesn't want to see him. Not now, not like this. He was dying and this was a desperate attempt to extend his life. This was the end.

“Maddox…” Y/n sniffles. Her vision blurs as tears cascade down her cheeks. She knows this is the end for them. She can feel it.

The woman’s hands go behind his head as she shakily unties the burgundy bandana. And when she takes it off what she sees has her crying even harder.

He’s gorgeous. This is the face of her husband.

“Why Maddox? Why does the first time I have to see you also have to be the last?” Her voice cracks as she stuffs the wound with the bandana.

He smiles and for the first time she can see it. His cracked lips, stubble of facial hair, his crooked nose from being broken so many times, and the scar above his top lip.

“I love ya’ Y/n.” Is all he says in reply. His hand comes up to cradle her cheek. “I need you to do one last thing for me..” He takes her hands in his one hand as the other holds the cloth to his wound.

“Anything… I’ll do anything for you.”

“Run far away baby… Run away from here and don’t look back. Don’t come back for me.” Maddox peeks over top the bar counter they’re and sees the bounty hunters about to enter the saloon they’re hiding in.

Y/n bites her lip as she shakes her head back and forth. “I’m not leaving you! I can’t! You can’t die, I need you! You’re..”

Y/n freezes. She wants to say it but she can’t. Not now, not when he’s going to die.

“You’re going to be a Father.”

“Y/n.” Maddox smiles. “Jasper should be outside. Get on him and get outta this town.” He brings his lips to her hand, kissing her blood stained skin.

The sobbing woman can’t bring herself to move away from him. If she leaves she will never see him again. But she has to leave, she has to survive and save their baby. It’s what he would want.

“I love you.” Y/n pulls him into a passionate kiss. One which he returns as he tries not to wince in pain.

Maddox is the first to pull away for the first time. And it only breaks her heart even more.

“Now go princess… Go live ya’ life to the fullest. And I’m… I’m sorry for killin’ your old man back then…”

Y/n stands up silently and nods. So after a full year he finally apologizes. Honestly, Y/n forgave him long ago. Was it Stockholm syndrome? Was it love? It didn't matter, her love for Maddox was true. But now he was dying... If she turns around and faces him now she’ll never want to leave.

Without facing him she lets her tears fall and hands form fists, “Goodbye Maddox. And I forgave you long ago. Back when I fell in love with you for the first time.”

She runs to the back of the saloon and leaves out the back entrance. Once the woman is outside she hears shouts from inside, along with gunfire.

“NOOO!” She screams and clenches her hair in her fists. Her vocal cords strain from her guttural scream. The pain of losing Maddox feels unbearable. She can’t feel her legs, so she drops to the dirt ground. All she can do is cry and curl up alone. The trotting sound of a horse is heard from above. Looking up she sees Jasper, Maddox’s loyal horse and best friend.

“Jasper…” She weeps. The horse looks down at his owners lover with sympathy behind his dark eyes. The animal can tell she’s in pain. He neighs and uses his nose to nudge her.

“L-Let’s go bud.” Y/n says and stands up from the ground. She gets on Jasper’s saddle and rides out of town, leaving behind the painful memories of losing Maddox. The ring on her finger has never felt so heavy.

"I help! Rosie help Mommy!" A small two year old girl says as her chubby little hands reach out towards Y/n who is carrying a pail of milk.

Y/n Graves; widow and single Mother, smiles down at her daughter. When she lost the love of her life she gave birth to a new meaning to go on. When Maddox died Y/n felt alone. She contemplated ending the pain permanently but she knew she could never do that to him and their baby. So she lived, and thank the lord she did.

The past two years were hard. Being pregnant, working a job, finding a place to live, and raising a newborn all by herself. Life was hard but that's just how it is. Being a Mother is a sacrifice that Y/n took the day she decided to keep on living after Maddox's death.

Now she has a beautiful baby girl. And her resemblance to him brought tears to the Mother's eyes.

She has his dark brown hair that almost looks black and his brown eyes that Y/n would find herself lost in. At the young age of two and a half Rosie even knew how to speak and understand English. She has her Mother's smarts and her Daddy's looks.

Rosie was a gift from Maddox, a parting gift so she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Just thinking about how she almost killed herself and Rosie destroyed Y/n. The thoughts she had during those dark times were regrettable. She hates herself for possibly thinking such things.

"Mommy? Why sad?"

Y/n blinks a few times and doesn't even realize she was crying. Rosie tugs on her Mother's dress, big brown doe eyes creased with worry. Giggling, she wipes her tears and puts the heavy pail down. She reaches for her daughter and picks her up and holds her instead.

"Because you look just like your Daddy princess. You remind me of him and I miss him a lot." Y/n kisses Rosie's cheeks, making the little girl squeal and kick her little legs.

"Now let's finish up our chores yeah? We need to get this milk to a cool place." Y/n reaches down and grabs the pail to take it to the cellar.

"I carry it Mommy!" Rosie pouts and reaches her arms towards the pail in Y/n's hand. But the woman only laughs softly at her daughter's antics.

"It's too heavy for you baby. Besides, princesses don't do chores like this yet. Rosie's only job for now is too behave and listen to Mommy."

The little girl pauses and leans her head on her Mother's shoulder. "Okay.." She mumbles.

Sensing her daughter's sadness Y/n decides to compromise. "How about we go into town and get ice cream?"

In an instant the little girl perks up. "Really?!" She says in her baby accent; unable to pronounce the 'R' well and instead it coming out more as a 'W'.

"Yes princess. You've been good all this week so you deserve a treat."

Y/n finishes her work in the cellar with the help of her daughter. Who really was just following her around and pointing at stuff, asking what each thing was. But now that everything was done Y/n rode into town on Jasper and her daughter on her lap.

It wasn't often that the single Mother came into town. Every time she was there she could feel the stares on her and her daughter when she did bring her. And she knew why. She has a daughter yet no husband. Y/n knows what the townspeople say behind her back. Calling her a whore, trollop, and an ex prostitute. But nobody knew jack shit about her. They were all making assumptions. They didn't know her life and the pain she's been through.

Not only that but being in town just felt unsafe. The hungry stares of the men made her feel nauseous, which was why she always carried a double barrel shot gun on her back. It was her own way of silently saying "Don't fuck with me and my daughter."

Y/n tugs on the reins a little and Jasper stops in front of the ice cream parlor. She gets off of Jasper and little Rosie clings to her Mother's back as she fastens the reins to the wooden pole.

"We won't be long bud. Come on princess, let's go."

Y/n pets Jasper on the head before holding her daughters hand and taking her into the parlor. Once inside the conversation around them immediately dies down as all the patron's eyes are on Y/n and her daughter; who goes to hide behind her Mother's leg.

"Why staring Mommy?" The little girl asks. Y/n pats her hair and answers back with a reassuring smile.

"They just think your dress is pretty and can't help but look at it."

Rosie grins and giggles, her cheeks pinkening with blush.

"Now let's go get ice cream yeah? What flavor do you want?"

"Strawberry!"

Since we're in town I may as well grab a few things so I won't have to come back. After finishing our ice cream I take Rosie with me to the hardware store across the street. While in there I grab a few things from the shelves. Life shot gun shells, a new steel file, and soap.

I go up to the clerk and put my things on the counter. The old man looks at me with his usual unimpressed look, just like how any other person in this miserable town looks at me.

"Will this be all?" He asks. I nod silently and hand him the appropriate amount of cash. After bagging my things he hands me my change and I grab the paper bag.

"Come on Rosie, let's go." I say and look down by my side at Rosie. But instead of my daughter I see the hardwood floor. My heart drops to my feet.

"Rosie?" I say again and perk up, looking around the store and down the aisles. Briskly walking to the store clerk I place my things back on the counter.

"Can you watch my bag? I need to find my daughter."

The old man nods with a grunt and opens up a newspaper. I ignore his careless attitude and I practically search the whole store for Rosie. Where the hell did she go? She was right next to me! I took my eyes off her for one second and this is what happens to me? I'm a horrible Mother.

Running outside the store I approach the first person I see. A blonde woman with a green dress and matching lace parasol.

"Excuse me? Have you seen my daughter? She's about this tall and has dark brown hair. She's also wearing a white dress." My words pour out of my mouth so fast that even I can barely understand what I'm saying. But the woman only shrugs.

"I do not know. Maybe you should keep a better eye on your child and you never would have lost her."

I glare at the prissy bitch and shoulder check her as I strut past her to ask the next person if they have seen Rosie.

"I can already see the potential in her Davis. Look at those beady little eyes. She'll be beggin' to suck cock in no time."

Rosie is shaking in fear, the poor girl has no idea what's going on. One minute she was in the hardware store looking at shiny things on the shelf, the next a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was being dragged outside the back entrance. She tried to scream but the hand over her mouth was too big. She tried to fight but her body was too small and weak.

There are three men standing above her. What they are talking about? She doesn't know. But her Mother taught her that strangers were dangerous. So their intentions were bad; these men were bad news. They had her tied up and gagged, her shivering body laid curled up on the ground as she silently sniffled.

"We'll take her to Alabama. She'll go for a hefty price there. I know a guy who likes em' younger." One of the men says. The same man hacks up mucus and spits in out on the ground right next to Rosie. Making the girl whine and cry even more.

"Quit your fuckin' cryin' or I oughta' give ya' somethin' to cry bout'" The scrawniest man of the group says. But his loud voice only makes the two year old cry more.

"Fucking hell, people will hear if she keeps this shit up. Someone hit her in the back of the head an' knock her lights out."

"She looks no older than two Marty. That'll kill her you dumb oaf!"

"Then wha do we do?"

The three men bicker back and forth. Arguing about how to silence the little girl. But as the three criminals argue they don't hear the approach of footsteps. It isn't until the girl stops crying that they turn around. A man with his faced covered by a bandana has Rosie in his arms. His brown cowboy hat is tilted low, casting a dark shadow over his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?! Put her down!" The biggest man of the trio says. He reaches for his gun but the mysterious man tuts and wags his gloved index finger back and forth at the criminal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were ya' big guy." The man holding Rosie says in his smooth, accented southern drawl. The little girl is scared stiff as she clings to the man holding her. She doesn't know what it is about this stranger but he makes her feel safe unlike the three men who made her cry.

"Don't tell us what to do. There's three of us and one of you, we oughta fill you full of lead and piss on your corpse for thinkin' you can FUCK with us!" The scrawny man draws his gun and aims it right at the masked man's head.

Rosie cries and hides her face in the stranger's neck. He rubs her back and reassures her with a gentle coo.

"You'll be okay, just trust me alright? I'll get ya back to ya Momma and Poppa."

Rosie doesn't understand what he said, but she does understand that this stranger is protecting her.

"Keep your eyes closed honey, can you do that for me?"

Rosie shuts her eyes and holds onto him tighter. Beneath his dirty red bandana the man smiles. Then he looks back at the three scum bags in front of him. He heard everything they said about the girl. All of the disgusting things about how she had "potential" and wanting to sell her.

Men like them didn't deserve to live.

"Hand over the brat you fuck-"

The masked man draws his silver revolver in the blink of an eye and cocks back the hammer. He shoots the scrawny man right between the eyes. Rosie cries out at the loud burst of gunfire but he shushes her gently as he cocks back the hammer another two times and shoots the other two men dead before they can even draw their guns or speak. The three bodies lay stark still on the ground. The life from their eyes is gone as blood pools from each of their heads.

"Burn in hell ya' nasty bastards." The mystery man walks away from the scene to go somewhere safer, the little girl still in his arms. She has her hands over her ears because of how loud the three gunshots were. But with a pat on her head from the man she lowers her hands and looks up at him.

"It's over honey. Those bad men won't touch ya' ever again." He says and sits against a tree a little bit outside of town. The little girl sits crisscross applesauce on his lap. Her chubby little hands rest on her thighs as she stares at him.

The man reaches behind her head and unties the rag around her face. Those men treated her like livestock. If not worse. Abducting a little girl and tying her up like cattle? How disgusting. Men like that didn't deserve to see the light of day.

"What's your name little girl?" He asks her. Rosie sniffles and rubs her puffy eyes.

"R-Rosie.." She stutters, still shocked from the whole ordeal.

"Hey now, no need to be scared anymore okay? I won't harm a hair on your head. And your name is really pretty. Matches ya' rosy lil cheeks." He pinches her plush cheek, making the girl smile.

"Name?" Rosie says and pokes the man's chest with a little finger.

"Maddox. Maddox Graves."

Rosie only nods. Maddox can still tell she's scared. So he asks her some questions to get her mind off things.

"How old are you?"

"Two and half."

"You got a family?"

"I have Mommy!"

"Got a Daddy?"

"Mommy said Daddy in heaven."

Maddox sighs when the girl says she doesn't have a Father. Growing up Maddox didn't have a Father figure either. He only had his Mother who worked tooth and nail to provide for him when he was younger. It was a shame she died of tuberculosis. He was only 16 when she passed. And after her death he was born a new man. When his Mother died so did Manuel Gonsalez. And he was reborn Maddox Graves, the west's most feared gunslinger and outlaw.

"My Daddy's in heaven too Rosie. But my Daddy was a bad man, he had it comin' to him."

Rosie looks at Maddox with a sympathetic expression. Though she couldn't see his face she could see his eyes under the shadow of his hat. He seemed... hurt.

"Married?" Rosie asks him. She sees his eyes crease. He's smiling.

"Yeah, to the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Where she?"

"I don't know honey. I'm looking for her. I hope I find her.."

Maddox stiffles a gasp when the little girl suddenly hugs him. Her little arms go around his neck. It's been years since he was last shown any affection. the last person to give him a hug was Y/n. This little girl just had no idea how much her warm embrace meant to the man. He hugs her back and shuts his eyes, letting his years long guard down. Maddox parts from the hug and pats Rosie's head.

Maddox goes to ask the girl another question but the feeling of a cold hard object on the back of his head makes him pause. The outlaw doesn't flinch at the familiar feeling of a barrel of a gun being pressed against his head.

"You have three seconds to get your filthy hands off my little girl." Y/n growls out, her finger on the trigger of her double barrel shotgun. But Maddox feels his heart skip a beat when he hears the little girl's Mother's voice. How badly he wants to turn around and confirm his suspicion. But the slightest movement on his behalf may result in his brains being splattered onto the grass.

"Mommy!" Rosie squeals and jumps off Maddox's lap, making him wheeze and cradle his gut.

Rosie runs to Y/n and hugs her leg. Tears form in the eyes of the distressed Mother. She drops her gun and falls to her knees to embrace her daughter in return, completely forgetting about the man.

"Oh princess you had me worried sick! What happened?! Who is this man? Did he hurt you?"

Rosie shakes her head back in forth and parts from the hug. "He saved me Mommy! From bad men!"

Y/n feels her heart squeeze in pain. She couldn't even protect her own daughter, let alone keep an eye on her. Instead a stranger had to save her. Speaking of the stranger, Y/n looks up and sees the man standing above her and her daughter. They make eye contact and the man's brown eyes widen as Y/n's lips part. Something about him is familiar.

"Thank you for-"

"Princess?" He says in utter disbelief.

Y/n feels her words get caught in her throat at the oh so familiar pet name. Only one man has ever called her that.

"Maddox?"

The outlaw removes his bandana. A scar, stubble, and crooked nose. The same face Y/n saw before she ran out of that saloon years ago. He drops to his knees and pulls his wife into a tight embrace. His long search for his wife has finally come to an end.

"My wife, my beautiful beautiful wife. Mmm I was searching every end of the country for you. I thought you were gone forever." Maddox buries his face into her neck and inhales her familiar lavender scent. Even her skin has the same softness it had years ago.

Y/n though, is silent. She doesn't return the embrace her long lost husband gives her. Her mind and heart are racing. It's like she's witnessing a paranormal encounter with a ghost. If this is a trick then it is a cruel one. That wound should have killed him. But no, he survived and came back to her. After about three years he returns looking more alive than ever.

"I thought you died..." Y/n utters softly. Her eyes are wide with shock as tears form from her tear ducts. Hesitantly, she hugs him back. Arms moving slowly up his back she rests her hands on the blades of his shoulders and sinks her body into his. The two are like snakes, their bodies constricting and melting into each others warmth.

"I got you sweetheart, I got you. Just let it out princess. Everything's gonna be okay." Maddox soothingly coos and rubs her back as her tears finally fall. A shrill cry leaves the depths of Y/n's soul. Her hands grip the fabric of his jacket. She's afraid if she let's go he'll die again.

But no. He never died. He survived, and he's here in her arms. All her sacrifices have led her to this moment. In the end, living was worth it.

"Mommy?"

Y/n blinks the tears from her eyes and looks to her daughter who stands there with the hem of her dress in her tiny fists. The little girl looks like she wants to cry too.

"Why crying?" She asks in a wobblily tone. Y/n smiles and pulls her daughter in with her and Maddox's embrace.

"Mommy's just happy that Daddy came back from heaven."

Rosie's brown eyes light up with wonder. The man who saved her is her Father? She opens her arms as wide as she can and hugs Maddox with all her two year old might. However Maddox is frozen.

"She's... she's mine?" He whispers.

Y/n nods. "Mhm... I had her eight months after I ran out of that saloon. She's about to turn three."

Maddox's jaw is on the floor. Not only has he found his wife but he has a little girl too? His heart hurts at the thought of Y/n going through the pain of pregnancy and childbirth all alone. The outlaw looks down at the little girl. And he looks to Y/n for silent permission and she nods with a light chuckle.

"She's your daughter, you can hug her silly."

And with that the Father hugs his little girl close to his chest. He doesn't even know that he's crying right now. And he doesn't care, all he cares about are his two girls right in front of him. Nothing matters anymore except for this. He isn't going to run anymore, he's tired of running. Running is what made him lose everything in the first place. Running is how he lost Y/n. And he never wants to lose his wife again. Especially not when he has a daughter too.

It's time to settle down and raise his family. Maddox never considered having a family before, let alone no longer being an active criminal. But for Y/n? He'd walk on glass through the depths of hell.

"I'm never leaving you alone ever again, you hear me?" He says in a firm tone to Y/n, his eyes piercing into her own. "We're gonna be a family. No more running baby, I promise."

He pulls his wife in by the back of her neck and kisses her passionately. This moment was one he would photograph into his memory; his daughter in his arms and his lips on his wife's.

Being a Father was NOT something Maddox thought he would ever be. Hell, he’s Maddox fucking Graves, the most threatening man in the west. A guy like him raising a kid? Yeah it’s unimaginable.

He’ll never admit it but fatherhood scares him. And nothing scares him (well except for losing Y/n again.) because he’s just that damn tough! Or so he thought.

Rosie is a little bundle of joy. She’s smart, funny, and damn fast. Too fast.

How did Y/n raise her all on her own!? It’s like the girl wants to die or something because why is she always getting into shit!?

“Rose! Get ya’ little mitts out of the knife drawer!”

“Hey! Jesus Christ kid you’re gonna kill yourself if you get too close to the edge of that cliff!”

“You’re giving Daddy a heart attack sweet pea. I just got ya, ya can’t leave me yet.”

Y/n has been through so much so he never asks her for help when it comes to little Rosie. He can figure it all out on his own no problem. Maddox is a man so he’s the tough guy of the house. There isn’t anything Y/n can do that he can’t do.

However…

“Y/n! Rosie done gone and crapped herself!”

Loves kissing Rosie’s cheeks. They’re so chubby! Maddox is so happy that his little girl is healthy and happy.

Rosie may have his looks but she has her Mommy’s smile and attitude. It’s adorable.

Now back to Maddox and Y/n…

They’ve been separated for nearly three years. So their relationship dynamic has changed a little bit.

No more lone wolf outlaw Maddox. No, he’s putty in his wife’s hand. Meanwhile Y/n has grown more independent over the years having raised Rosie and gotten a job all by herself.

Maddox needs her by his side 24/7. He’ll get grumpy at the idea of her leaving. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past either. Just the thought of Y/n not being within his vicinity makes him worry.

“I gotta go into town and grab some food.”

“Huh? Why’s that? We gotta garden princess! Whatchu need food from there for when we have all that we need here?”

Don’t think for a second that Maddox isn’t a yandere anymore just because he’s a girl Dad now. Nope, nada, zilch.

He won’t hesitate to kill anyone who poses as a threat to his family.

Maddox was crazy for Y/n before but now he’s outright insane. He’s just really good at hiding it. And he’s also insanely over protective of Rosie.

“I was thinking, maybe we can send Rosie to the school house when she turns th-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Huh? Why not? She needs an education Maddox.”

“I will not have my daughter be around those nasty town boys. No way in fuckin’ hell is that happening. We’ll home school her.”

“Aww you’re so cute when you’re protective!”

In the end Maddox ended up enrolling Rosie into school later on because he had no idea how to explain Mathematics to her.

MAN this was a long one. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, my phone buggy as hell 😩

[just-some-user-hunny]

Something something, soft domestic bliss with Nikto <3

Borders by @anitalenia and @rookthornesartistry

Home has never been a place he has resided in. It's always been a lonely little apartment that he sleeps and eats in, or a house that's far too cramped and cold. He's tried living in smaller places- places that can swallow up the emptiness of its rooms with walls and curtains, but it always feels the same.

When he comes back from another hard deployment, he returns to even harder sheets. Another cycle of day and night that goes by in a hazy blur. Most days he can't remember making breakfast or walking down to the little shop to buy some more alcohol- often his fridge is just full and his rooms are hoovered, and he finds himself sweating and tired on the sofa. Not even recollecting what he did.

But ever since this stray man found you, hes certain he's found a place he can call home.

Your sheets smell good. Warmed by your body's heat and peaceful sleep, and nowadays he finds rest more than merely falling unconscious. Rest that thaws his cold hollow bones into something more human, that lifts the weight carved into his shoulders. Rest that he can find as easy as he can find the colour of your eyes. Even when you leave the bed, somehow clawing your way out of this lumbering man's grip, he'll always roll over and press his face into your spot on the bed. Rubbing his cheek against the fabric of the sheets, trying to absorb the warmth you left behind. Tracing the shape of you with rough fingertips before he finds himself again and keens after you.

In the mornings, Nikto must make you tea. You seldom question it now- his ritual of sifting strong smelling tea leaves and using the exact same cups he likes to use is something to endear. Watching this man whose hands have faced blood and grit, ever so delicately handle his precious tea is something to behold. He is precise. Practiced. The kettle whistling and pouring steam into your cozy little kitchen as he stands by the counter, bathing in pale sunlight. He always prepares your tea first, in the mug he always sees you favor amongst the others.

Sitting with him in the mornings for breakfast is always pleasant. When his visits gradually turn into permanent occupation, the mornings flow into a stream of warmth.

Warm mugs, warm kitchen tiles, warm sunlight, and warm socks.

It's something you think draws him to stay. You don't know that even in a cold apartment with nothing, as long as you're there, he'd stay.

Nikto appreciates a warm meal from you- yes, even the attempts of your russian meals. He eats them up with gratitude and eagerness. His ankles are locked with yours under the table as he reads the paper and listens to you ramble about your plans for the day, letting you stroke and pet his hand in yours. Your fingertips idly tracing the veins on his thicker scarred wrist. After breakfast, once he's sucked your spoon clean and you've playfully snatched it back, he's keen to do something. Anything.

It snowed that night, and you wanted to go shopping. Nikto follows your heel, just as he likes. He wraps you up tight, almost too much. A scarf wrapped snugly around your neck and head, wrapping you up in another jacket, and he insists on putting your gloves on for you. It will be cold, dear. He'll insist. All he needs in return is a kiss and a pinch at the collar of his coat. Pull him down for a kiss, and he'll give a little lick at your chin to see your smile. There was some crumbs llubov.

The crunch of snow beneath your shoes and the sunlight catching gold in your hair is something he holds dear. Hands clasped together- well, as much as you can, considering his big brutish paw is hiding yours within his. His palm is hot and rough, a warm balm against the chill of the cold air.

He doesn't like shops- always a skittishness and shake to him, but you're there. It is bearable, little one. He's close by your heel as you scour through the shelves, asking him what he wants for dinner that night. It's always the same. What do you want? I'll eat too.

Nikto always carries the bags on the way back. It's non-negotiable. His hand is reaching for you, and he expects the heavy bags to be handed to him. Don't even try to take some of the load off him little one, he has carried much heavier. He plods along by your side keenly, your words occupying the silence of the walk back. He does not mind, the listener that he is drinking your dialogue up, no matter how trivial or rambling it is.

Once at home, and the shopping is put away, you'll be swept up in his arms and trapped to the confinement of the sofa. Let him warm you, he'll grumble, ushering your face to tuck into his neck where it's warm.

Here he can happily waste hours away. Hours that he once spent alone and mindlessly, a haze of forgetfulness and weary, is now a good warm numbness to his head. The kind of mindlessness you find in a hot bath, no thoughts or worries to exist.

There are the days he longs for.

[bloodiedrogue]

IN UNFAIR HANDS WE'RE DEALT (9)

SUMMARY: With the battle of Moonrise quickly approaching, you and Astarion take a moment to yourselves.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,949

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), angst, lots of hurt/a little comfort as a treat, descriptions of dissociation, mentions of death, untimely flirting probably.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter killed me so... be kind. :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

There’s an impending doom that hits your chest mid-conversation. 

As you sit alongside your peers, discussing with Jaheira the plan of attack on Moonrise, you can feel the depths of your mind begin to drift. Slowly but surely, moving through the air to focus on Astarion’s face engrossed in the details of your infiltration. It makes you narrow your eyes in frustration. Seeing the interest in his own as she explains the designated route, marking down the paths she deems safer than others while he slowly nods his head.

You’re not sure why but seeing him like this —so invested in something you know will probably end in suffering, makes you sick to your stomach. As if, your body’s reacting to some sort of inevitable, internal prophecy that no one else can feel. All at once it takes over, erasing the previous hours of the day you once found enjoyment in. Coating such memories in a shadow of doubt that makes you wonder if this is the last time you’ll feel this. The pleasantries of being alive without consequence. The overwhelming sensation of warmth that blooms throughout your chest each time you look towards the pale-skinned elf. 

As you sit there, half-listening to the exchange that goes around the table, there’s a feeling of selfishness that follows behind such thoughts. A sliver of fear that quickly takes over, forcing you to wonder what would happen if you were to pull Astarion aside and ask him not to go. 

“So, we leave tonight.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s Wyll who furthers your anxieties. Bringing up the inevitable in such a casual way that, as he speaks, you find yourself turning to face him, watching unimpressed as he stares at the map splayed out in front of you, pressing a finger to your destination. On the parchment, it’s circled in red. Symbolically marked in a blood that’ll inevitably be split. 

Swallowing hard, you turn back to Astarion not long after, catching his eye; causing his expression to shift from focused to curious, immediately offering you a direct line to his thoughts if you need it. 

Without protest you take it, forcing back question after question until you settle on a single one, raising your brow in the process. 

Are we sure this is a good idea?

Your tadpole wriggles in response. Ebbing and flowing behind the sclera of your eye as you listen to Astarion’s sigh rattle through your brain. No, but it’s the only idea we’ve got. 

So far. 

His lip twitches. You blink. Both of you refuse to break eye contact even when Lae’zel brings up the fact that you’re all incredibly low on supplies. 

I’m sure our valiant Blade of Frontiers will come up with something.

You have to resist the urge to snort as you look away, allowing yourself to accept Astarion’s reassurance in the form of a badly timed joke and an ever-so-subtle tap to your thigh with his pinky. Both of which make your heart swell through the negativities that take up far too much space. 

“Don’t worry about supplies.” Jaheira clicks her tongue, pulling back your attention with the wave of her hand. “Give us a list and we’ll gather everything up while you rest for your journey.” 

It feels uncharacteristically kind of her to allow you more time to breathe. But it’s also something you don’t take for granted as you all disperse into your own spaces, attempting to ease your minds against the oncoming battle you’re less than certain you’ll return from. 

Letting out a heavy breath after your exchange, you find yourself wandering through the camp, feeling Astarion’s presence trailing behind as you move up the stairs of the Inn, finding refuge in your previously shared room. Once there, you kick off your boots and fall carelessly onto the bed, hands quickly moving to your temples as you stare at the ceiling, feeling the space beside you shift. 

“I’m not really in the mood for…”

Trailing off, you’re not sure what you’re meant to say. Or how you’re supposed to divert Astarion away from your racing thoughts after relying so heavily on him. Because at this rate, it’s been months of constant reassurance. Weeks of support, both reluctant and not. Days and hours and minutes of a growing tenderness that you’re undeniably thankful for, even now as you deny him your thoughts. 

Since the beginning of your journey, he’s been there in some capacity, distracting you from the growing wound inside your head. Forcing back all the terrible aspects of your shared reality so that he can take over the front. 

Somehow in such a short time frame, he’s managed to consume your every waking thought. Whenever you wake he’s the first thing you think of and before you sleep it’s not uncommon to find yourself dreaming of a life after all of this is over. A life where you’re together and happy and free of all the bullshit. 

And it scares you if you’re honest. Terrifies you to the point of obsession, filling you with an endless sense of unease even as you crane your neck to share his gaze, realizing he’s still there, despite it all.  

“For what?” 

You motion between the two of you, frowning. Unsure how to explain the feeling in your gut that roughly creeps through your organs, laying waste. “Being cheered up.” 

Despite your somewhat cryptic response, somehow his face is still as stone. An unwavering set of features that hold no obvious purpose as you stare at one another, unable to express anything other than exhaustion as he huffs at your defiance.

“You’re being rather obtrusive.”

“I know.” 

“Why?”

As if by design, your hand slots perfectly against the plush of his cheek. Gently, you stroke your thumb against the coolness of his skin, forcing yourself to smile despite feeling like you’re falling apart, knowing this may be the last time you find yourself together. 

“I don’t want to go. Not with you.”

Almost immediately he opens his mouth, ready to provide you with some sort of offended quip before he remembers that isn’t what you want. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice, my love.” 

“I wish we did.”

You can tell then that he understands what you’re saying. Based on the sombre expression that follows your words and the way he tugs at your waist, maneuvering you further into the bed. Quickly, it becomes apparent that your feelings are shared. That when he looks back at you, taking in your words, he’s not only aware of the implications but feels them himself.

“Another unfair hand dealt, I suppose.”

All you can do is snort in response, allowing your eyes to roll around, remembering the hold he has on you. How regardless of everything you’ve been through he’s managed to attach himself to you like a ship’s anchor; always keeping you steady. Grounding you at every rough turn through the waters of your journey. 

“You know if you die I’m coming with you, right?” 

It’s a rather terrible joke. One that has him immediately laughing before he realizes there’s a hint of truth hidden inside. Then he looks at you as if you’ve just ripped the already cold, dead heart right out of his chest. “You can’t be serious.” 

“What if I am?”

He pauses for a moment, leaning back to get a good look at your face, picking apart each and every feature with narrowed eyes. “Well, firstly I’d question your sanity.” 

“I’m surprised you don’t already.”

“Then I’d tell you it’s not worth it.”

“Says you.”

He doesn’t laugh or smile. Instead, he just continues to stare, stroking the fabric that covers your side in slow, unsteady motions. “Darling, I’m aware that dying alongside a lover after they’ve fallen is typically viewed as a romantic gesture but for the love of Gods if you even think of doing such a thing—”

You go to protest but he cuts you off, squeezing your side. 

“—I’ll haunt you till the end of your days. And not in a sexy way.”

You raise your brow. “There’s a sexy way to haunt someone?”

In response he releases a humoured, heavy breath, shaking his head. “You know for someone who claims they don’t want to be cheered up you suddenly seem rather perky at the thought of me following you beyond the grave.” 

It’s because it’s you, you want to say but instead, you just grin and kiss his cheek, allowing yourself to further indulge in his company. To feel his touch wrapped tightly around your frame as the seconds turn to minutes and the minutes quickly shift into hours that pass by like whitecaps crashing against the shoreline each time you take a breath. 

By the end of it, you’re gasping for air. As time inches closer to your departure, there’s this breathlessness that coats your lungs, forcing you to suck the air Astarion breathes through shared kisses filled with desperation, knowing this is it. The calm before the storm. That final step before you’re at the edge of the cliff, staring down. 

It distracts you enough to make the moments shared feel less real —foreign in a way that has you feeling completely separate from your body, wandering past the Inn, across the expanse of the cursed lands with cautious feet. 

Beneath Astarion’s hands, you may be still as a board but somehow you’re also drifting through the darkness, following Jaheira’s path with tightened fingers that wrap around your blade, prompting Astarion to stop.

All at once his movements freeze, parting gently to showcase knitted brows that glance between you and your roughly placed hand. 

Your hold is tighter than expected, your nails digging between the fabric of his shirt, pushing through to just barely hit his skin. Without hesitation it forces him to carefully reach over and grab them, coaxing them out of his arm to the space between, hushing you through the silence, knowing that your mind is loud. 

“It’s going to be fine,” he tells you. Then his thumb runs along the course of your index finger, applying pressure to each joint as he moves up; becoming that anchor once again as you blink away the surrounding forest.

“You don’t know that, though.”

Fully encapsulating your hand, he digs his thumb into your palm, pressing away the stiffness that collects as you roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “True but that’s never stopped our blinding optimism before, has it?” 

You snort. “You and I both know I’ve never been an optimist. That’s Karlach’s job.”

“Fair. But you’ve also never expressed any doubt before,” he points out.

That’s because the circumstances have changed, you think, feeling the creature behind your eye wriggle in response, igniting within you a sensation of dread. Of a weight carried throughout your stomach that has you swallowing hard and abruptly sitting up, realizing why. 

It’s because you’ve grown used to what you have. To you and Astarion and the rest of your friends who patiently sit, waiting for the hour to strike. After years of abuse and solitude, you’ve managed to find the one thing you’ve never thought possible: a family of sorts to call your own. A party of confidants ready to roll into the gaping mouth of battle.

Standing up from the bed you feel your chest begin to tighten at such a discovery —both at the thought of gaining and losing such loved ones. Ultimately, it’s a bittersweet moment. One that has you fighting for air like before as you palm the sockets of your eyes and laugh. 

“What the hells is wrong with you?”

It’s a question said without malicious intent. The kind that sounds snarky but that’s truly filled with a curiosity that forces Astarion to sit up from the bed, watching as you rub your face. 

“I think I’m freaking out, a bit,” you admit, stifling back chuckles that half-catch in your throat as you turn back to face him. “I don’t want to lose anyone.”

You know then that he wants to lie to you and say that you won’t. That, as previously mentioned, everything’s going to be fine and that you’ll win the war without a scratch. Even though both of you know, that’s not the case. Not this time. Not with the growing size of the Absolute and the thickening plot. 

Because at this point you know very little about the world revolving around you and yet, you’re still rushing into it. Taking the cards you’ve been dealt and slamming them on the table, hoping they’ll work out in your favour. It’s all you’ve ever done this entire journey. Every fight fought, every person met —all of it’s come at the cost of blind luck. Of a dice roll and prayer filled with a hope that you’ll survive the day to come.

Deep down, you know that none of you should’ve survived up to this point. One by one you should’ve died and moved on but somehow the Gods have smiled upon you enough to allow you a moment of peace to persist. To travel across the land, surviving every encounter. To experience a life you never thought possible. 

To be with the man you think you might be in love with. 

“If I don’t make it—“

The words catch in your throat just as Astarion’s jaw begins to shift. Carefully clenching his teeth as he grips the sheet beneath him, making you frown and wander back over. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” 

You move your hand into the space between you, raising your pinky into the air with narrowed eyes, watching him look at you with annoyance. 

“A pinky swear?” Shaking his head, he looks up at you in disbelief, taking in the way you grin through the sadness and wiggle your finger, forcing him to look back down. “Darling, you can’t be serious.” 

“Yes, I can.” 

“You’re telling me you want me to swear on this delicate little thing that I won’t perish in the heat of battle?”

“Yes, was that not clear?”

“No, it was, I’m just—“

“Just swear on the damned pinky!”

He takes it instantly, the shock of your outburst causing his eyes to widen as you let out a breath of relief. 

“Now swear that if either of us die, we don’t do something stupid.”

For a moment there’s a brief pause but then it’s quickly followed by Astarion clearing his throat. “Okay, but what exactly classifies as stupid? Because with such vague terminology the options seem a bit endless.”

Thinking about it for a moment, you ponder the options, allowing yourself time to really explore the results of your oncoming fight. 

Because at this rate, anything could happen. You could all perish under the Absolute’s reign. Be taken into custody and forced into servitude like so many have. Hell, you could even survive this whole thing by the skin of your teeth. Lose a couple of limbs or something —truly anything is possible. 

“Promise me that if I die you won’t.” 

It’s a statement that hangs in the air for ages, collecting dust as both of you nervously stare, shifting and swallowing —forcing yourself to feel just how heavy this moment is. 

Quicker than anticipated, it consumes your every thought, causing the tadpole to slither to your eye’s edge, prodding at the skin behind, knowing it’s Astarion calling to you. Asking for permission to see what’s on your mind as you blink away, focusing on the position of your hands as you allow him access to your thoughts.

It takes no time to offer them over. To show him all your wishes and doubts and ideal outcomes. Letting him explore, you allow yourself to take a breath and close your eyes, strengthening the hold you have on his finger as he wanders through your membrane. 

I promise I won’t off myself in your honour.

Silently, you thank him, smiling to yourself as the thought is pushed towards him. Good, because I plan on haunting you. Sexily. 

You hear him hum in amusement. “You’d make a very alluring phantom.” 

“I would, wouldn’t I.” 

“You’ve got the moan for it.” 

Reaching to punch his chest, you open your eyes, scrunching up your face. “Shut up, you harlot.”

“Fine, but only if you promise to give me a proper burial if I die. One with lots of gifts. And flowers.”

“Flowers?” You raise your brow almost humorously before the image of a grave marked in his name appears. 

It’s the last thing you want to think about. And immediately Astarion feels you start to shift, prompting him to pull you to his lap. “We’re going to be okay, love. You and I we’re, uh, we’re good —we make a good team.”

Team. 

It’s a word that rattles through your head violently, wishing deep down it was something more. Something caring and intimate and perhaps tailored to better represent the feelings that he stirs within you. 

Having experienced as much as you have together it’s obvious that you’re something else entirely. A friend or a partner —something more personal. 

Sure, together you do make a fairly decent team. In battle, you flow alongside each other beautifully, anticipating every need or want without so much as a thought. And everywhere else, you’re just as fitting. So it’s no wonder he views you as such. 

But still, there’s something missing in his words. A sentiment or belief that has you forcing out a smile, hoping that deep down he loves you all the same as your tadpole wriggles for him one last time, and the knock upon the door calls for you to leave. 

-

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[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Vox takes you on a date to a casino.

Vox: "So, Doll what do you want to do first?"

You: "Oh well, I'm not really sure... I've never really gambled before. I don't want to lose money because I don't know how..."

Vox slings his arm around your shoulder, his warm body pressed to yours.

Vox: "Nonsense, Doll I'll teach you, and it's all on my, my treat, how about we get you a nice drink, and I'll teach you how to BJ..."

At your startled look, he holds up his hands laughing, clearly he'd been teasing you.

Vox: "I just meant Blackjack."

He laughs at your reddened face and guides you over to the bar, giving you the rundown of the rules, you're sure you'll learn better as you play, but it gives you enough of an idea of what's expected in the game.

You sit in the seat and Vox hovers beside you, sending soothing static down your spine and sparking delightfully through your nerves making it hard to focus.

Not that it matters as Vox tells you every move to make anyway right now.

You celebrate your first win so excitedly and to Vox's utter pleasure you kiss him ecstatic and buzzing, he buys you another drink and you go another round really liking this game.

You found you won the next hand again under his guidance and tried yourself the next time and lost.

Every time he helped you, you seemed to win, and each time he got a kiss in gratitude, he'd clearly won more than he'd lost.

As you were about to buy in for another round, a trio of imposing guys approach the table and you end up clutching Vox's arm as you're both whisked off to a side room.

The dude sitting there is feline in nature. The guards post beside him and one at the door behind you.

Vox: "Well hello there Husker, good to see you my man, our evening is going splendidly, nice place you've got here."

'Husker' however is stoney faced, to Vox's charismatic friendliness.

Husk: "As a fellow Overlord who don't want no war, I'm gonna just tell you this once and give you one chance, you leave and there'll be no trouble."

Vox shifts, subtly blocking you further from view, you cling to his jacket trembling.

Vox: "And why would I do that, my good fellow?"

His voice, friendly as ever but you can hear the shift in the undertone, a dangerous one, feeling the static shocks run down his spine you still do not let go despite your fingers going numb.

It was Vox's one rule, if there's trouble you don't let go as he can zap you both out of anywhere with electricity in less than a moment as long as you're connected.

Husk: "You been countin' cards, and I want you out."

You gasp in slight surprise and you feel Vox shaking with laughter, like he'd expected this all along.

Vox: "Why would you say that, Husk? Be careful what you say next, you might not like the outcome."

Husk was either very brave or very foolish, or perhaps a bit of both, maybe it's because Vox wasn't really a fighter... That was ever talked about.

Husk: "You win every round you play, and you might not have the counting cards tells like most normal folk but I know you're doing it in that tecky head of yours and I want you out for cheating on my turf."

Vox: "I'm going to give you just one chance to take that accusation and rude statement back my man, and let bygone be bygones, otherwise... You'll be the one regretting your actions tonight. I might have a 'techy' head, but I can assure you I have integrity for games that my mentor taught me..."

The room flickers around you all, your knuckles going pale as your grip shakes and the power flashes in the whole casino.

Vox: "I do not cheat, and you insult me as an Overlord and a paying patron, and if you don't submit an apology, of course good chum, I will be forced to ruin you."

Husk: "I've heard enough, take him out boys."

Guns were pulled and in a moment you were back in VTower in the penthouse, dizzy from the unusual travel, blood still buzzing in your veins as Vox catches you and settles you on the couch cradling your face.

Vox: "You okay? Babydoll?"

You breathe deep for a moment getting grounded, your face splits into a wide grin.

You: "Fuck you're hot when you're swinging your dick around with authority."

Vox laughs kissing you deeply. Thoroughly amused at your choice of words and feeling the real thing twitch with more interest.

Vox: "Oh yeah? Want me to order you around a little tonight, Doll? Maybe you can show your Master just how much you like being his little pet."

You can't help the loan that escapes you, his shark-like grin tells you how well received your involuntary response went however.

Vox: "Good, my Babydoll. So good aren't you? Held onto me the whole time we were there, trusted me, such a good little Pet."

You whimper and bite your lip, flushing and nodding eagerly, dragging a finger down the ball of his antenna making him shiver slightly, his claws prick your hips where they tighten.

You: "Did you cheat?"

Vox: "Oh absolutely, Alastor always taught me as long as you hold all the cards and are the most powerful in the room however, no one can stop you. I have seniority, I have more power and I'm afraid I'm going to have to end that two bit Overlords little buisness in less than a weeks time."

Vox kisses you all across the face and angling your head funny, kisses down your neck with every word, to your giggles.

Vox: "I'll give him two days to lure him into a false sense of security, then I'll strike, and while he's trying to save himself I'll offer him a deal... But first, my Doll, I'm going to have a pre-celebration, right here with you."

His voice almost purrs at you and you whimper as he covers your body with his, kissing you soundly and really living up to his words as he doesn't disappoint tending to all your needs for the next two days, making you scream his name more times than you can keep track of.

Only, after two days Vox's plans didn't quite work out the way he'd intended...

It seems the cat was smarter than he appeared... And had already taken the threat seriously, seems the old cat was now under Alastor's protection, and his business untouchable, Husk had his soul chained but still kept his power and business and Vox raged for a whole week after that.

Only you could calm him for short periods of times, but you were bruised from how roughly he'd handled you.

On the last night, Vox curled around you muttering apologies into your skin as he caressed every mark, and kissed every bite.

You didn't mind so much, but with an extra threat just that week from some mafia guys, he moved you out of the tower and into your own flat.

You couldn't help but feel isolated and alone, wondering if Vox would ever come back for you...

[neteyamslovrr]

Luvv your writing, i hope u can do a aonung x fem reader wherein theres part where she almost died (I guess like neteyam) like maybe in later parts and aonung was super worried and thought she actually died which she did but somehow came back and became absolutely clingy and like guardian or overprotective if ever she get hurt the slightest. Idk how will u write but hopefully u can consider thiss❤️❤️

I'm Right Here

summary:  ao’nung witnessing your near death made him feel hopeless, and he promised to never let anything hurt you again.

1.2k words

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

It all happened so quickly, guns were blazing and the screams of all kinds of life rung through the night sky. You were there to follow Lo’ak as he went to warn Payakan, you didn’t realise this would be the start of a massacre.

You, Tsireya, and Tuk all had begun to creep onto the ship. “Tuk this is a terrible idea!” You whispered as she continued to make her way through the boat.

The boats alarms were flaring as you split away from Tuk and Tsireya. Finding another direction to make sure you could find Kiri. A scream filled your ears as you turned to see Tuk restraining to be tied again.

It was all blur when it happened. You ran so fast you brain couldn’t think. Jumping onto the back of Quaritch strangling him in hopes to get him off Tuk. But it failed miserably.

As he tied Tuk he simultaneously flung you off his back with a hard crash to the ground.

“Y/N!” you heard beside yourself, a worried shriek to keep your consciousness before hissing at the demon in front of you.

Tackling him to the ground he threw you again. “Oh you just don’t stop do you?” He chuckled pulling a gun out of his utility belt.

“Y/N run! Run!” Kiri shrieked. Your legs took off but still not fast enough. Not fast enough to miss the shot he fired.

Pain filtered through your body. If you weren’t so determined to not drown you would have let the pain paralyze you. Floating on the top of the water you quietly called out for someone to help you. The pain was unbearable. A bullet gliding across the top of your ribs was enough to have you scream.

“Y/N! Shit Y/N. Tsireya come over here!” Ao’nung found you barely able to keep afloat. The water surrounding you a red colour inciting worry in everyone.

Ao’nung couldn’t breathe seeing you in so much pain he couldn’t take it. You couldn’t leave him. You weren’t allowed to.

Tsireya came over quickly wearing a horrified look. “She need’s to go back to the village, Mother will help her.” Ao’nung carefully picked you up onto an ilu to ride back to his village.

You started to cough little bits of blood splattering to litter your face. “Fuck Y/N, it’s okay mother will help, I promise.” You cradled into him, your tears staining his chest.

“It hurts Ao’nung, it hurts so much.” Your voice was barely audible, you didn’t want to die, not here, not now.

“It’s okay Y/N its all going to be okay. See we’re here back at the village. Hold on for me okay?” Ao’nung’s comforting words were desperate, almost like he was comforting himself. He screamed for help running to his mother.

Ronal’s face was the same as Tsireya’s when she first saw you. Horrified. The red blossomed throughout your chest decorating your cyan skin.

Ao’nung sat beside you the whole time, he held onto your hand. Begging, praying, pleading with Eywa. He couldn’t lose you, not today, not ever. Ronal did every trick she knew, to bring you back to health. But she could only do so much.

Hour’s pass, and the hours turn into days. The war finished, the Sullys were back but you were still in a coma. Your body was weak, and your skin was pale. The wound had been threaded together by Ronal and your chest rose slowly and shakily.

Everyone tried to convince Ao’nung to leave your side, to get out of the darkness of where you rested. But no one was persuasive enough to convince him to leave you.

He thought if he left you, that you would leave him. Maybe his pleading worked because as he cried into your hair, begging for you to wake.

Your eyelids began to flutter open. The little light filtering through the pod still made you hiss. Ao’nung’s breath hitched. “Y/N? Y/N? are you awake?” He asked immediately holding onto your cheeks. His tears turned into sobs as he saw your scrunched up face and green eyes glowing at him.

“Rough nap I had.” You joked before Ao’nung littered kisses all across your face. Ao’nung swore to himself that he’d never let you get hurt again. He would never ever lose you again.

Months pass and you were fully healed. You could swim, run, walk and laugh just as well as everyone else. But what the shot affected the most was the relationship between you and Ao’nung.

You were promised to each other even before the war. But now that he had almost lost you and he was connected to you by the hip.

Every morning he’d wake next to you and tell you how grateful he was to wake up next to you. He’d constantly come up behind you, hugging you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings. After the shot, any piece of his tough guy exterior was disintegrated by you.

You knew he was overprotective of you before, but now more than ever. He’d guide you down steps, he’d always walk in front of you and when you were hunting he always tagged along. He couldn’t handle the thought of you being injured again.

You were out hunting, Ao’nung lagged behind chatting with Roxto, it was nice to see him relax with his friends. You had the tool in your right hand aimed at a medium sized fish. Pressing the trigger, you let out a pained shout. The device malfunctioned slightly cutting the bottom of your palm deeply.

Your shout immediately got Ao’nung’s attention. The sound of your pained voice brought back deep memories of your body bleeding out and he immediately rushed to were you had risen above the water.

“Y/N, Are you hurt, what’s wrong?, Do you need help?” His eyes frantically looked for an injury, his gaze always wondering down to your scar.

“I’m fine, I just cut my hand.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed your hand and saw the blood gushing out of your hand. For some reason seeing it made him start to tear up. His emotions were a wreck and staring at you hurt, it was a reflection of his worst fear.

Seeing the cut, it made him feel like he couldn’t protect you, just like he couldn’t protect you that day. The feelings of grief and fear hit him like a strong wave as the tears rolled down his face.

“Ao’nung why are you crying?”

“Let’s get you a bandage.” He ignored your queries about his tears until you both reached the shore.

Dragging you back to his tent he still wiping his face. Trying to rid of the evidence that he ever cried.

“Ao’nung stop.” You sat him down, and you sat in his lap. “Why are you crying my love?”

Ao’nung looked into your green eyes, those same eyes he saw almost lose their light that day. With a bandage in hand he slowly wrapped your hand to then rest it in on his heart.

“When you bleed… it reminds me of that day.” Frowning it clicked to why he panicked so much to your blood. “It reminds me of how helpless I was to help you, how I couldn’t do anything but watch you die.”

“But Ao’nung, I’m right here. I’m right here, you haven’t lost me, not yet.”

He let out a sad chuckle mixed into a sniffle. “Yeah.. you are right here.”

Softly you kissed his cheeks were his tears stained his skin. Ao’nung indulged in your presence, calming himself down as he felt your touch.

“I’ll never leave you Ao’nung, I promise.”

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: hope you enjoyed! this one was rlly angsty. (also that photo of ao'nung is feral)

[mrylin]

deep claws (wednesday addams/reader)

so this was a request but i posted it accidentally and i lost it along with half of my work but that's ok! anon i hope you like it.

summary: there was a big bruise on your body, one that you tried to keep hidden from everyone and that worked for some days. that is, until wednesday catches you in the lie.

warnings: blood and bruised and much pain, wednesday will also be scarier than usual but all end up with a happy ending

With a heavy sigh, you pulled down your shirt that had a huge blood stain right on top of the poorly made bandage, feeling the burning come back ten times worse.

"You should tell someone about this." Enid said. She was standing on the edge of your bed looking at you with concern. You didn't want her to find out, but in the end it was unavoidable since she walked into your room when you were trying to get stitches on yourself.

"I will not. This school is already going through a lot of problems, they don't need another one." You spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Enid was stubborn though, and wouldn't let it go. "But you know you can die from it. You can have an infection."

You agreed and pressed your hand on your waist, right over the cut, applying pressure and tried to get up. From the copious loss of blood, you were still dizzy and a little weak so you swayed to your feet. "Look, I'll be better in a minute. I promise."

"Wednesday will hate me for not saying anything."

"She won't find out from me." You said, swallowing when a strong dizziness brought you an overwhelming feeling of nausea.

Enid went to your side and guided you to your bed and helped you to lie down in a position that wouldn't open all your stitches, and stood looking at you. "I still think it's totally stupid."

You smirked. "You can rest assured that I will live for years just to annoy you."

For the first time since she found out about that situation, she gave a genuine laugh and smiled. Enid was a great friend and she cared about everyone, which you appreciated, but you preferred to keep your situation out of other people's ears.

A few minutes passed between the two of you talking and then the door opened, revealing an ever stoic Wednesday. She looked angrier than ever. "Hey, Wed." You greeted, trying not to let your voice shake.

She grimaced at the horrible nickname and walked across the room, dropping her purse at the bed. "How was your day?" Every day she asked you the same question and tried to demonstrate things around you more openly. She was doing really well at it.

"Boring. Good thing Enid came." The blonde smiled at you and placed her hands in front of her body, looking between you both. She was used to being in the same room and witnessing Wednesday's minuscule affection, but in that moment she really wanted to be somewhere else.

"I came and I'm leaving. Bye to both." She said waving. Before closing the bedroom door she said an inaudible 'be ok' and you smiled in agreement.

Wednesday walked over to your side and sat down, looking at you deeply. "You're different." She looked you up and down.

"What do you mean?" You laughed nervously.

She looked into your face and locked eyes with yours, as if all the answers were there. "You are pale, sweating and your hands are shaking."

You swallowed hard and tried to smile but failed as your body shuddered as a sharp pain shot up your spine. "I'm totally fine."

"This is obviously a lie." She said. "Are you hurt?"

Trying to prove there was nothing, you threw your legs over the side and braced yourself to your feet, bitterly regretting it when you felt sharp twinges. It was like someone was stabbing you over and over again with inhuman strength.

A loud, aching scream escaped your throat and you fell back, your whole body shuddering and twitching with pain. Wednesday quickly moved to hold your head and helped you to lie down better. "What happened?" She asked, scared.

You took the best breath you could and pulled your shirt up, revealing the bloody bandage. Not waiting long, she moved to grab the first aid kit you had by your bed, not caring about the things falling to the floor. Because of your small feat, your stitches had burst and your cut was redder. For the first time in her life Wednesday was hating a sight like that.

She didn't say anything as she cleaned up and tried not to hurt you with the stitches. You could see that she was angry, worried and scared, and you knew you were going to have to explain why of those cuts. "It was the hyde, wasn't it?" She asked, turning around to throw everything she'd used away.

"Yes." You said, your voice breathy and trembling. "I was walking near the woods when he attacked me. I was lucky I managed to escape before he killed me, but I earned this."

She turned and met your eyes. She was angrier than you thought. "I told you to stay away from there. You could have died."

You threw your head back against the headboard and took a deep breath. "I know, and I didn't really go to the forest, I was in the garden."

"You shouldn't go there. I told you how dangerous it was." This time the one who was angry was you.

"I'm not going to stay inside this place forever just because a sick person is killing people. I need to breathe, Wednesday." You swallowed, feeling your throat close up. "I will not stop living because of this."

She stood up and pinched her eyebrows. "One second more and you wouldn't be here anymore."

That was a baseless argument, since you didn't want and wouldn't stop doing what you wanted because of some monster. "You think death is so beautiful, maybe I would start to think the same thing once I met her."

Wednesday's breathing grew faster and heavier, her hands curled into fists and clenched until her fingers turned horribly white. You had said the wrong thing. "When I saw the cut I thought about how I could have lost you, that I would never see you again and in a second that became my worst fear. So don't play with it ever again."

Softening, you nodded and stretched out your other arm, asking her to lie down next to you. Wednesday climbed into bed and tried her best not to touch anything that might hurt you and rested her head on top of your chest. "I promise, Wed."

While you slept, weary with pain and weak, she watched over you. Seeing you there, on the way to get well, alive and safe, she promised that nothing and no one would ever hurt you again. She would make sure of that.

my first language is portuguese (brazil) and it's really hard translate it and that's why there can be some nonsense things (i know english but i'm not fluent unfortunately) i'm really sorry!!!

if you want you can send me a request :)