#this is a s€x piece read at your own risk

[alucarddear]

Position anon again, would you please write a NSFW alphabet for Alucard? Pretty please? 🥺

Alucard N S F W Alphabet*

I'm personally offended that I haven't done this for Lulu before. Anyway, rather than just spelling out his name, I'll give you the entire alphabet. Heh. This is LONG! Your thoughts and keyboard smashes are welcome. 🤭

P.S. I go explicit and specific; read at your own risk. I also tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, so this is [Alucard x You]. However, I did have a little self-indulgent fun with W: wild card, the only section with an obvious she/her indication. Just so you know!

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional to this dhampir. It's a must. It doesn't matter if you had a quick romp or a long night, he'd still take the time to treat you right, especially if he'd been rather rough with you.

Forehead kisses, soft caresses, helping clean you up—you name it and he's got it covered. It's all about making sure you feel loved, appreciated, and cared for.

Alucard is not one to just up and leave or make you feel used. In fact, it's noticeable how much more he dotes on you after actually using you up good and fucking you raw into next week. 😏

B: Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Your neck. Let's not even pretend that Alucard doesn't gravitate towards it. As you ride him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips and pecks at your throat. There's a part of him that wants to sink his fangs into you then and there and another that wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings against your skin as you throw your head back in bliss.

Alucard likes his hands—the way they're so large against yours; how perfectly your hands feel in his own. He likes his hands gripping your thighs or hips, his hand coming down to slap your ass, his hands caressing every inch of you. The way his hand closes around your wrist, encircling it completely as if it was made to do nothing but. The way he pushes you down with his hand on the small of your back as he prepares to take you from behind. Most of all, all of the things his hands can do to make you cum.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Alucard's desire to spill his seed inside you is next to nothing sometimes. If you'd let him, he'd bury himself balls-deep and cum inside you each and every time.

He loves to make you cum, loves the way you sound—the hitching of your breath, your begging, the way you can barely keep yourself from shaking as he coaxes yet another orgasm out of you. He loves to praise you for it. "God, you're fucking beautiful," is something you hear often. It just never gets old.

D: Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Alucard loves when you allow him to bend you over whichever way he pleases. Loves how tiny and pliable you look underneath him, adjusting and propping your arms and legs as he sees fit. Just the sight of you like that, it's enough to push him over the edge.

So, you know he draws you—you are his muse after all. You've seen his sketches. But not the ones of your beautiful, naked body. Not even the tasteful pieces he draws as you sleep. Not the ones where, try as he might, he just can't replicate how utterly divine you look when he fucks you. He's a talented artist, but nothing tops the real thing.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Is he very experienced? No. Does he know what he's doing? Hell yes. His mother was a doctor and his father is a man of science. He lives in a castle full of resources. He has deep knowledge of biology—he's got the theory down pat. Sure, he fumbled a little the first few times, but he quickly learnt how you like to be pleased.

Besides, being a dhampir, Alucard is in tune with your body's responses to his ministrations. When you're intimate, he can practically feel your heart racing, dear. He knows when you're close, can tell when he's hitting it good, need I say more?

F: Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mastery. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor to support you sitting on top of him with your legs bent on either side of him, your feet flat on the bed. This position allows you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss. It lets you start off slow, very intimate—with you grinding against and riding him. Once you're a little tired (or he starts growing impatient), he simply grips your hips and pounds up into you until you're a screaming wreck. His grip on your hips and his feet securely planted on the floor allows him to rut into you fast. And the view? Fucking fantastic. He loves watching you come undone like this, seeing you throw your head back and expose your throat to him. Yes.

For a quick romp, you can't go wrong with doggy style. When you're in his study and you both get a little too distracted? He’ll bend you over his desk and have his way with you.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he's very serious about giving both of you a good time, alright. He might do something that makes you giggle, sure, but for the most part it's probably accidental and not his intention. Sex with Alucard can be intimate and sweet or downright animals humping in the undergrowth (👀), no in between. He's not here for the shits and giggles, darling.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It does match. Maybe not all the time completely bare, but he keeps himself neat and tidy. Do you see his luxurious hair? He takes care of himself down there too.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alucard loves to see you and hear you. He's considerate and goes out of his way to find what works for you. So much so he probably has ruined you for anyone else. You'll never find a more receptive lover; it’s time to accept that.

When you make sweet love, he whispers sweet nothings against your skin. He peppers kisses all over you and makes you feel like the most gorgeous being on the planet. He's not afraid to voice his thoughts out loud too, praising you and urging you on.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You remember those naughty sketches of you? Yep. He has used them a couple times while you were away. You're in his thoughts whenever he touches himself.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He not-so-secretly loves it when you beg. How are you to know how much more you can take? He'll just have to show you.

When you moan his name as you grip the sheets and quake beneath him? Yeah. He loves it, especially when you can barely even make out the words for “Adrian, please, please, please.”

When you take control and ride him like your life depends on it, it does something to his brain. You on top, taking control and looking absolutely beautiful as you do so... he could cum just from the thought of it.

There is a part of him that likes the thought of cumming deep inside you and breeding you. Maybe it's that loneliness that sometimes nags at him, maybe he yearns for a family, but he can't lie this feels utterly divine.

L: Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed is cliche, but it works and is comfortable. Your kitchen counter, desk, against the wall or a tree, table, or out at some secluded clearing by the lake... Alucard is truly not that picky, as long as you're not out in the public for other eyes to see and you’re both comfortable.

M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your reactions and enthusiasm. Knowing you're into it just as much as he is.

When you sashay towards him, crooking your finger at him to beckon him closer? He's right there with you in a heartbeat.

When you wear his shirt and it swallows your smaller frame? It turns him on more than he lets on.

When you moan his name and gasp and writhe in pleasure. When you beg for him to take you harder, faster, and deeper. It just about short-circuits his brain.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any form of bondage or restrictions to his movement. It brings up unnecessary trauma and makes him feel that he's not in control or safe. He is mostly a switch, sure, letting you take control and dominate too, but tying him up is just a no-go for him.

He won't transform into a wolf. It's practically bestiality, which he's not down for.

Somnophilia or any other act where consent can be dubious. He's just big on consent and trust, for obvious reasons.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves having absolute control over your pleasure, knowing it's him coaxing the sighs and moans and screams out of you. He enjoys how easily he can make you cum and drive you mad.

That said, he also loves watching you pleasure him, taking as much of his hard length as you can, especially whenever you greedily swallow his load.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. Sex can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. While he loves nothing more than to take his time and make sweet love to you, he also loves ravaging you and leaving you utterly spent. It's satisfying either way.

The usual case is he begins slowly and sensually, but by the end of it (and sometimes without warning), he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't above having a quickie if that is all time permits, but he would really much rather have his way with you properly!

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Given that he's a dhampir, he knows exactly how to go unseen or unnoticed. It's likely his risk assessment is much more honed. You might think you're being risky, but he is well aware of the chances of you getting caught in the act.

As for experimenting—other than his hard reservations (the ones listed in N), he is game to experiment and try different things you may be curious about as long as you both feel safe and comfortable about them.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a dhampir... need I say more? The chances of you exhausting him first is little. Sorry to burst your bubble. 😆 He's got stamina for days, honey.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alucard is not above using toys to pleasure you. But what can a toy do that he can't do better? Hah. Chances are he will attempt to learn how it pleases you and try to replicate that with his own cock, mouth, and hands.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a little tease. You know the way he banters. That snark and sass can sometimes make their way inside the bedroom too.

"What was that, darling?" he'd ask, as if his amazing sense of hearing wasn't enough to register your begging as he edges you for the nth time. "Tsk. Patience, my love..." he would even dare chide you!

Alucard also loves to glide his fangs over your skin, just enough to leave a faint mark but not enough to draw blood.

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not shy to let you know he’s having a good time, but he’s also not overly loud. He gasps, moans, and curses, a tight-lipped “Fuck!” slipping out once in a while.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

He loves to praise you. His way of talking dirty is to let you know how good you feel around him. How ethereal you are, how perfect for him, how you taste so sweet.

He encourages you as he pushes you over the limit. “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it. Cum for me,” he would say. He’d place a kiss on your open mouth as you convulse around him as he rips yet another orgasm out of you. “My sweet darling,” he would groan, wiping the sweat off your brow. “How perfect you are. Good girl.” And just like that, he’s about to do it all over again. RIP. 😫

X: X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s active and it shows. He’s well built without being overly bulky. It suits him—muscular/toned yet elegant and lean.

He’s packing a just-about-above average penis, but nothing you cannot handle. The man’s over six foot, it just fits.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Alucard is the type to yearn and pine, so set the volume level up cause he cannot get enough of you. Enough said.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes you drift off to sleep together, but you usually fall asleep first.

He’s a night owl. He’d take you in his arms and stroke your hair as you sleep, admiring the way you glow under the moonlight, and wonder how he got so lucky to have found you. 🤍🌙

[ramp-it-up]

Party Games

Summary: You want it bad.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: This wasn’t the kink y’all picked, but here we are. It’s two am. 🥴 Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to That Face.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Reader is owning her sexuality. This is about a nal s ex and it’s enjoyment. Allusions to past acts and partners. A teeny bit of angst, but mostly pwp. Bucky has turned reader out but he’s sprung. Drinking, bathroom s ex, mirror s ex, rough s ex, (but Bucky’s so sweet), oral s ex (f receiving), a nal, praise/degradation kink, allusion to group s ex if you squint. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were having fun at game night. Until the bottle pointed Bucky’s way.

Then the fun turned into need.

“Choose anyone here to do anything with.”

“That’s easy,” Nat laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“No. I’ll give James a pass. He can go with anyone he’d like.”

You were confident of your man.

Bucky’s face lit up.

“Really Doll?”

You hesitated. You didn’t like the way he jumped at that chance. Curse your mouth that ran ahead of your brain when you were tipsy.

You fixed your face as Steve smirked at you two and took a swig of his beer.

“Really James. Live your fantasy.”

Your voice was less confident now.

You held your smile as Bucky grinned and rubbed his hands together, looking around his circle of friends.

He could choose any one of these beautiful people. You'd heard tales of how wild it got with them being in the field before you got together, and even of him and Steve, years ago.

‘Adolescent exploration,’ Bucky had called it.

You lowered your head and braced yourself as you felt him stand up. You didn’t want to see who he chose. You listened, on alert, to the sound of his shoes as he went toward the bedroom door. He stopped, presumably to make his choice.

“Get that ass in here, y/n.”

You gasped and looked behind you to see that Bucky was grinning at you. Everyone started laughing when you got up and skipped toward him.

Bucky pulled you through the bedroom to the bathroom, making sure to close both doors for extra privacy. He chuckled at you.

“How could you even think I’d choose someone else, Doll. You know you’re my one and only.”

You nodded and allowed him to pull you into his arms.

“I know. You know how I get when I drink. I get loose. Create scenarios.”

You shrugged as you smiled up at Bucky, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“You’ve had three beers, Doll. I was counting.”

“You were watching me?”

You angled your neck back as Bucky started licking your pulse point. It was a done deal that you were gonna let him fuck you in your en suite with your friends in the other room.

The question was how.

“Like a hawk, Doll. Was gonna suggest you stop after three. Need you to be sober enough to let me in. You’re a tight fit.”

Bucky’s hand was palming your cunt over your jeans and you ground yourself into the warm metal.

“It’s because you’re so big, James.”

You smirked at him.

“But how much tighter is my ass tho?”

Bucky stopped, pulled back and looked at you, eyes blazing and jaw clenching.

“Fuck. Doll. You want me to fuck ypu like that? Right now?”

Bucky licked his lips, exactly like you imagined the big bad wolf would before he tore you apart.

You whined in anticipation, your core flooding with slick. You whispered your reply to him.

“Yes, Bucky. Please. I- I’ve been thinking about the last time since the last time and I- I need it.”

You reached for him and started unbuckling his belt, a fiend.

Bucky closed his eyes as you went inside his pants and started to stroke him. He was thinking about how you wanted him to fuck you and the way it had you stuttering.

“Please, James. Pretty please?”

When he opened his eyes again, you licked your lips and pouted. How could you be begging for something so filthy yet be so adorable?

His dream girl.

Bucky panted while you handled him, your hand barely closing around his stiff, aching cock.

“Doll…I…”

You watched Bucky’s eyes dilate as he opened his mouth to breathe and you continued to stroke him. The way that you were licking your lips and looking him in the eye made Bucky realize that he was the one that taught you to be bold.

“I’m such a fucking slut for this cock. Want it in my ass, Daddy.”

“Jesus.”

You had Bucky shook. And he admired the monster he’d made.

“Yes, James. Make me your fuck doll. You know what you’ve done to me.”

And it was true.

Bucky Barnes had ruined you.

Turned you out.

Reduced you to a dripping, quivering, distracted mess whenever you thought about it.

You wanted him to do that sweet, dark, feral thing all the time.

All the time.

Something about being impaled on his pretty, hard, huge cock, stretched to your limits, feeling pleasure that was just on the razor's edge of pain and pleasure that had you hooked.

Oh, and when Bucky led you over that edge into that intense pleasure …

God.. you were addicted to it.

That first time, he was gentle, oh so gentle. And, as he promised, he’d made it feel oh so good.

Bucky teased you, pleased you, coaxed you, ate you, stretched you, lubed you, then eased into you so slowly and sweetly that you were on cloud nine the entire time.

And you’d cum harder than you ever had before.

Then Bucky took care of you with a hot bath, food, water, and rest.

The more you did the deed, the more wanton you were for it. You moved, arched, grabbed, and begged for it.

Tonight, the added bonus of people a few feet away had you heated, glowing hot.

And Bucky was like a moth to a flame.

He took you by the waist and brought his mouth to yours, making you open for him in this way first, wanting the tenderness on your lips at the moment. He backed you up to the sink, and left you breathless as he drew away, opening the medicine cabinet.

You were looking down at Bucky’s cock playing peekaboo in your hand as he searched behind you. You looked up when he suddenly exclaimed.

“Ah HA!”

Bucky brought a brand new bottle of lube around in front of you and your heart started beating double time.

Setting the lube down on the counter, Bucky reached for the button on your jeans, sliding your zipper down. His thick, metal index finger traced the slit in your panties, divining your wetness.

“How long were you thinking about this today? Hmmmmm?”

Bucky looked down on you possessively, demanding an account of your intimate thoughts. He took in the lust on your face and reveled in the fact that you really wanted this. His mouth descended toward yours before you had a chance to answer.

Bucky loved making love to you, fucking you, taking you apart and putting you back together. But this kind of connection was the most intimate to him.

It was not just because it felt amazing being inside your delicate, snug walls, but because this uncharted territory yielded just for him. Bucky was not into virginity as a concept, but damn, knowing that he’d made you into this brazen, begging goddess, that you’d let him into a place so sacred to you rendered him a slave to your pleasure, which he could tell was intense.

Bucky turned you around so that you faced the mirror and he pulled up your tank top, exposing your breasts to the bright bathroom light.

“You wore this with no bra on purpose, didn’t you?”

Bucky just stared at your chest instead of touching like you wanted him to, expecting an answer as he pressed his black-jeaned bulge against your ass.

“Yes, James.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he lowered his lips to your neck while his hands came up and played with your nipples, slowly and tenderly circling your areolas. You arched into his hands; you wanted it rough.

The sound you made when he started pulling was everything.

“Eyes open. Watch what I do to you.”

You watched Bucky watch your face and your open mouthed breathing.

When your eyes connected he said, “Good girl.”

You turned your head and kissed him before he grabbed your open jeans and pulled them down your body, kneeling behind you as he took them off.

Bucky sat back on his haunches and looked at you, running his hands up and down your thighs, grabbing your ass and admiring your anatomy.

“So gotdamn beautiful, Doll.”

You shivered as he started kissing your legs, and soon, but not soon enough, licking into your heat.

Bucky’s moans as he participated in his fine dining was enough to make you cum, or maybe it was the anticipation.

It didn’t matter, because by the time he stood up and told you to, “Bend over, Doll,” your knees were already weak.

You watched Bucky tear the plastic off the bottle of lube with his teeth, plucking your own nipples now.

“You ready?”

It was a purely rhetorical question as you moaned in response.

Bucky watched in awe as the cool lube dripped onto your ass and you arched to meet it. A thick metal middle finger quickly warmed both the liquid and you. You let him fuck you there digitally until you begged for him.

“Need you James…please!”

Bucky grunted, reaching around for your clit again.

“Give me one more, Doll.”

His human hand was magic as he worked you from both front and back. Once he had what he wanted, he pulled back to take off his pants and looked down at his prize.

“Shirt too, please.”

He couldn’t deny your look in the mirror; Bucky loved how you loved his body completely.

Finally, he was teasing your tight hole with his cock, sparking electricity and rivulets of slick in your core. You could tell he was holding back because his jaw was clenched and his movements were tentative.

When you bent down and pushed back onto him was when his eyes rolled and you saw his head hang back on his shoulders.

“Holy mother of…. Damn, Doll.”

Soon his eyes were back on yours in the mirror as you fucked yourself back on him.

“Remember when I had to beg you to fuck this sweet ass, Doll?”

Bucky looked down at his thick cock breaching your tight hole. Then he pulled you upright and flush against him for control, one hand around your neck and the other in your cunt as he pounded inside your tightness.

Bucky searched your glazed expression in the mirror, your head lolled back against his flesh shoulder as you rode his cock and his metal hand. Three of his warm, vibrating metal fingers were deep inside your cunt as he slowly fucked your puckered hole.

“Now you beg me.”

“Hmmm. Ummm hmmmm.”

You nodded, mouth open for air as you let the pleasure take over you.

“You really are all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yesss Jamesssss…Ohhhhh yesss.”

The third orgasm while he was buried in you made Bucky wild, and he started pumping in earnest, keenly tuned into your sounds for any sign of discomfort. All you felt was his thick dick pulling and dragging inside the most sensitive parts of you.

And pure rapture.

“I can take it. Give it please!”

At that point Bucky had to stop, and pulled your head up as he whispered in your ear. You could feel his huge cock pumping in time with his heartbeat inside you.

“My beautiful complete cock slut. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

They way he bared his teeth as he snarled it in your ear caused you to spasm again as he fully wrecked you now, pumping voluminous amounts of cum inside you.

“Holy fuck!”

Bucky bit down on your shoulder as you laughed, still impaled on his softening cock. You curled your legs up as he carried you over to the shower and turned it on, him finally releasing you to kiss you thoroughly against the shower wall.

“We’re being rude to our guests, Bucky.”

“Wanna invite them to join us?”

You smirked as you turned around and Bucky started washing your back.

“I draw the line at those party games.”

“Me too,” Bucky smirked, “you’re all mine, Doll.”

“Now let me clean you up…”

And Bucky’s hand was between your legs…

As always: If you liked it, please reblog.

[cozage]

Hi hello yes uh-huh

I saw your requests are open (I haven't been on Tumblr for three months 😭😭)

And I love the works!

May I request a law and Kidd x reader (separate) to react to seeing their s/o's (always covered) body since there's all scratches and scars all over and they feel self-conscious about?

( I have a still fading scar on my thigh when I fell in a hole and a metal bar dug itself on it. So I guess that's my take lol)

A/N: I have a scar that I’m a little self conscious of so this was very cathartic for me to write!!! (Also I know Kidd has a scar kink you cannot convince me otherwise)

Characters: gn reader x Law, Kidd

Cw: This is very borderline NSFW, So read at your own risk.

Total word count: 1.2k

Beauty Scars

Law

Law’s hand slipped under your shirt and gave it a tug. 

“Law, wait,” You pulled away from his lips, grabbing his hand to stop him from pulling it up further. 

“I want to see you,” he murmured, leaning into your lips again. 

You pulled away from his advances and he freezed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes averting away from you.

“It’s fine, really.” You could feel your face warming with embarrassment. 

“No, it’s not.” His hand ran through his hair, and you could see he was distressed at the thought of you being uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

You grabbed his face and peppered it with kisses. Law tended to get a little carried away when the two of you were alone, but he always took your nonverbal cues and stopped whenever you were tense. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I really am. I’m just a little self conscious of my body, that’s all.”

His eyes locked with yours. “You’re perfect, I assure you.”

You smiled slightly at his comment. He hadn’t seen the scars on your body yet, and a piece of you was afraid of what his reaction would be when he saw them. You knew he wouldn’t stop loving you, but it would hurt to see him grimace at your body. You hated it enough as it was, you didn’t need another reminder of its imperfections.

Still, you wanted to get it over with sooner than later. Your fingers gripped the bottom of your shirt, and you slowly pulled it up. You closed your eyes to avoid seeing his initial reaction, but you heard him gasp in surprise. You tossed your shirt aside and opened your eyes, finally risking a peek to see his reaction. 

His eyes examined you, taking in the view of your exposed body. After a few moments, he glanced up to meet your gaze. 

You suddenly found yourself feeling very uneasy, and your arms wrapped around your torso, trying to hide. 

“Fuck,” he whispered softly, eyes moving back down your body. “You are beautiful.”

Your cheek burned. You were not expecting that reaction from him. He grabbed your hands, gently prying them away from your midsection and intertwining his fingers with yours so he could have a full view of you again. He leaned into you, kissing your lips slow and soft, before moving down to your neck.

He covered your shoulders in kisses, and when his lips reached one of your scars, you gasped at the contact.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He pulled back, his eyes scanning your face.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought…” You trailed off, not wanting to say any more.

But Law never lets you get away with things that easily. “Tell me,” he urged. He pressed his forehead against your own, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

“I thought you’d find them off putting,” you admitted, your eyes cast downward in humiliation. “I thought you'd hate them.”

You can feel his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would I hate them?”

“Because I do.” You had never said it out loud before, not to another person. Most people didn’t even know your body was riddled with scars. You always wore long clothes and avoided changing in front of people to avoid the stares and the questions. 

You could hear Law sigh sadly at your comment, and you felt him squeeze your hands in reassurance. He bent down and softly kissed the first scar he could find. And another, and then another. 

“Your scars are proof that you’re alive, y/n-ya. They’re proof that you’ve lived, and you’ve struggled, and you’ve overcome it all.”

He leaned back up, kissing you once on the forehead before meeting your eyes again. “How on earth could I hate such beauty?”

Kidd

“Fuck!” you shouted, coffee spilling down your shirt. The crew erupted into laughter, and you smiled along with them at your clumsy mistake. “Be right back.”

You got up from your seat and ran back to your room to change. Once inside, you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, looking through your drawers for a new outfit. 

“Holy fuck,” a deep voice came from the doorway, and you let out a yelp of surprise. You turn, finding your captain standing in the doorway. He’s smirking at you, eyes raking over your body. 

“Captain! I…” Your voice falters as he steps over to you, staring hungrily at your body. You shy away from him, but he pulls you in close, his fingers tracing over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“I didn’t know you had these.” His gaze follows the trail that his hands have created down your torso. 

“I know,” you say, ashamed by how intensely he was staring at you. “Its-”

“So fucking hot,” he growled. As you watched him, you could see he was holding back, trying to refrain from pouncing on you right here and now. He still hadn’t made eye contact with you. He was completely transfixed on your body.

“Hot?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled it up to his lips, kissing the scars that littered your arms. “Do you remember the stories of how you got them?”

Your mouth falls open, shocked by his reaction to something you spent years loathing. Your eyes begin to water, overwhelmed with your lover’s reaction. You wished you could love yourself as much as he loved you. 

His thumb ran over a scar on your forearm, his lips following closely behind. “This one. How’d you get it?”

“I don’t remember,” you admit. “I have so many all over, it’s hard to keep track.”

He looked at you, mischief in his eyes. “All over, huh?”

You started to object, but before you can get any words out, his lips are smashing into yours. His hands trail down your torso and hover at the waistband of your pants, waiting for you to approve of his venture. 

You hesitate for a moment, and then your fingers join his, tugging your jeans down past your waist. His lips leave yours as he lowers to pull your pants down, letting them lay around your ankles. He is eye level with your thighs now, and you can hear him grunt as he discovers new scars of all sizes down your legs. 

His hands wrap around your thighs, and he pulls your legs to meet his lips. His tongue dances across your inner thighs, flicking lightly over the raised skin and scar tissue from a wound that happened years ago. 

You gasp, throwing your hands into his hair to steady yourself as you grind against his face. He doesn’t seem fazed, and you can feel him smile at your eagerness. “I can’t wait to explore your body,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing your tender flesh passionately. “I can’t wait to explore you.”

[milksuu]

can I get some headcannons based on Heartsteal being becoming fathers? Like how they were during the time their s/o was pregnant. :3c

Maybe a bonus on whether the child was planned or not.

❥ prompt: v!heartsteel expecting father headcanons with reader ❥ content/warnings: suggestive themes, foul language, pregnancy and all things related, baby genders mentioned ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel! (aphelios, ezreal, kayn) x pregnant!reader an;; forgive me, i am too sleepy tired to write for all the boys atm. ;w; fml my hc's for sett would make me fold errr maybe later

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ APHELIOS

When you break the news, Aphelios forgets he primarily uses sign language to speak. To your surprise, and to his own, he uses broken words and barely audible sounds. Almost like a child learning to talk again. You have to help him by taking his hands, and guiding him to use them instead of straining his vocal cords.

'Are...are you sure?'

At first, it's difficult to process all the emotions. Happiness. Fear. Excitement. Anxiety. Love. Overwhelmed, he presses your hands against his face, hiding his unraveling expressions. Afer a beat, he chokes up. His hands squeezes yours, deepening your touch. And within moments, you're wrapped in his arms. And he presses as much of you into himself as he can. Holding you so close to his heart, you feel it pound against your cheek. As if to say; 'is it really okay for me to be this happy?'

To any outsider looking in, Aphelios seems disconnected and unenthusiastic about the whole situation. A plus-one wasn't planned, after all. When anyone asks about you and the baby, he replies with a simple 'Fine. Thanks.' And promptly diverts the subject back to work or anything else. But on the inside, the poor man is suffering. Constantly worrying about you and the babies well-being. In reality, he's too afraid to indulge in his own happiness and share it with others. Fearing the moment he does, it'll all shatter like glass in front of him. And he won't be strong enough to mend the pieces.

It's no surprise that his new chronic obsession consist of only making sure you and the growing baby are safe. He texts every hour, on the hour. Makes frequent video calls. And installs motion sensor cameras around the house, especially in places you could easily fall. And no, he doesn't mind watching you fold laundry or wash dishes for an hour while on a face call. So long as he can see you smiling and healthy, that's all he needs to assure him when he's not physically with you.

He's also pulling all nighters until his bottom eyelids are rimmed red. Reading hundreds upon hundreds of articles, forum posts, and online material on how to be a 'Good Father'—especially one who can't speak. Jotting down everything he can in his notebook, bleeding pen after pen dry from ink. There's plenty of times you have to wake up in the middle of the night and convince him back to bed. But only after reassuring him a thousands times how great of a father he'll be.

When the baby bump begins to show, Aphelios presses his ears against your stomach. Listening to the life you carry inside you. The amniotic sounds ease his intrusive thoughts, and lulls him to sleep; he always imagines he's taking a nap right beside the baby. Plus, he loves getting the small bit of attention from you as you run your fingers through his hair. A moment of selfishness he can't help but relish all for himself.

As for sex...well, he's not always on board with the idea. As much as he craves to be inside you everyday, especially when your body looks so heavenly full, he just doesn't want to risk anything. Especially in your later months. Last thing he wants to do is induce an early labor. But he's more than willing to devote his hands and mouth to satisfy every inch of you that he can. Worshipping you with adoring kisses and soft touches from head to toe. He's happy to please you, and doesn't expect anything in return in your state. (Of course, you do anyway.)

Familial genetics is one heck of a thing. Aphelio's eyes are blown wide at an image screen that shows two babies growing side-by-side. When it's conclusive you'd be having identical twin boys, he almost collapses in front of the ultrasound technician. So not one—but two—surprise gifts waited for him at the end of the third-trimester. And if they would be anything like him, their house would be a pranking death trap to all who entered. No one would be safe, except for mom.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ EZREAL

When you show Ezreal your pregnancy result, he looks at it with complete shock. He's locked in silence, which is never a good thing for someone as talkative as him. You almost have second thoughts about revealing the news until he bounces to you and gathers you in his arms. Eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy.

"No way—No way! Are you telling me I'm going to be a dad? Babe, for real. Is that what these two lines mean? Are you kidding me? This is the happiest freakin' day of my life!"

Ezreal has always been a fan of surprises, and this big news was no exception. Everywhere he went, no matter the conversation, he'd just casually state he was becoming a father. Didn't matter the person or group setting. Family. Friends. The neighbor; his neighbor next to him. The young teen delivering packages to his door. The grandmother and her toy-poodle waiting in line at the convenience store. If anyone was around him, he was boasting about you and the now expected bundle of joy.

Ezreal tries his bestest to help you around the house. He's never been great at chores, but he's a happy little helper eager to listen and please. You tell him exactly what you need from him, and he'll do it with a smile on his face. Anything that keeps your stress levels low, he wants to be the one you rely on to ease your burden.

Ezreal can't lie and say he understands everything about pregnancy and what you're going through. It all seems to go right over his head. The only thing he seems to get is your morning sickness, because he's literally feeling it too. Seeing you nauseous gets his own sympathetic response going. So while he's trying to comfort you, holding your hair as you hover over the toilet, he's also cradling the nearby trash bucket for himself. (How romantic!)

When your stomach grows, Ezreal can spend hours and hours talking to it. He never runs out of topics. Even mentioning the most mundane parts of his everyday life. These moments are when he feels he's bonding most with his child to be. He'll pretend to tell the baby secrets that you don't even know about, and whispers out loud with a wink, "but don't tell your mom about that one, 'kay?"

Ezreal is literally terrified to have sex with you. And not because he doesn't find your body attractive. But he actually believes he'll poke the baby's eye out, or pop you like a water balloon. And if that ever happened, the guilt would forever destroy him. It takes a visit to the obgyn and for a professional to explain that it's perfectly safe to have sex during your pregnancy. He's hesitant at first, but after the first go around, his confidence and sex drive picks right where it left off. (He regrets not going at it like rabbits sooner.)

When you're at your routine ultrasound appointment, Ezreal can't stop the tears parading down his face, even before he knows it's a boy. Hiccuping and siffling, one hand squeezes yours tight, while the other points at the imaging. "H...He...looks just...like me." It's endearing for him to think that. When the monitor only shows splotchy and fuzzy spots of the babies butt. The copied images to take home are his favorite photos taken. Ever.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ KAYN

When you break the news to Kayn, he doesn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist, pressing your hips together. Guiding a hand to the back of your neck, in a manner that was gentle and not comparable to how he fucked you senselessly. And with all the care in the world, he takes your lips.

"Damn. You're fertile as Hell. It only took us one time after you stopped your birth-control. Honestly, it's really fuckin' hot. How about we—you know—to celebrate?"

Counter to popular belief, Kayn brought up the idea to start a family first. When you asked him the reason, he first joked around a bit, telling you how hot and sexy it would be to 'impregnate you with his seed'. But, he put aside his usual impulsivities, and explained his desire to move on to the next part of his life. He was done with the partying and drugs. Over the one night stands and dating random no-nobodies. And just wanted to have a more meaningful, family oriented life—with you.

To show he's committed to the whole idea, he takes days off from his idol schedule to go to every prenatal check-up appointment. He plucks and stuffs every pamphlet into his pockets he can find around the waiting lobby. He asks tons of questions to the obgyn, and stuffs more educational brochures in his pockets. You have to scold him when he tries to snag a small uterus replica from the exam room. Kayn defends himself, wanting it for "educational" purposes. (Rhaast just wanted it as a neat souvenir.) He settles when a medical assistant gives him a sperm shaped pen.

Kayn is another one that isn't great with house chores. (But he'll gloat and say he's mastered cleaning the dishes, at the very least.) He's generally better at being sent for errands outside the home. If you need an extra ingredient to make dinner, he'll hop on his motorcycle and get it in record time. And if you're not feeling up for cooking, he'll order pick-up from your favorite place in town. You need to send a package at the post office? He'll wait hours in line on the busiest day of the week. Whatever he can do for you, he makes sure it gets done. So you never have to worry about something once you pass the responsibility to him. Showing you he's a more than capable partner and future father.

When your baby bump starts to show, Kayn's favorite thing to do is touch it. Applying the softest pressure as he runs his hands and finger across your rounding stomach. He's always enamored whenever he feels the baby move; another reminder of how amazing you are. And he never forgets to vocalize it. "You're so goddamn beautiful, you know that?" he'll say like you've cursed him. Cradling your face and taking your mouth.

You never have to tell this man more than once to touch or have sex with you. It's part of his daily routine a this point. And definitely one of his favorite ways to bond with you. But now that you're pregnant, it's as if the sex between you two has shifted into another plane of pleasurable existence. Never getting enough of it, even moments after finishing. But on the days you're not up for it, he respects it. And doesn't mind defaulting to cuddling, before dozing off to sleep with you in his arms. (But he eagerly counts down the time for when you're in the mood again.)

Kayn tries not to show to much of his softer-side; he rather be the one to have his shoulder wet than yours. But at your ultrasound appointment, once it's confirmed you're having a girl, his whole punk 'fuck only the hot police' persona collapses. You notice him clear his throat, and quickly swipe a knuckle at the corner of his eyes. He masks this dent of composure by huffing a laugh, "Guess I'm, uh...going to be kicking the crap out of a lot of asses later."

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p. 4.0

note: p4 has been officially split in half!! part 4.5 coming soon!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (rlly fem like you are v girly)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: smut! read at your own risk! angst, miscommunication, ellie is still an asshole. explicit language. reader is a nervous wreck and overthinks like crazy

a/n: first of all i’m so sorry for making u guys wait! i was thinking about just holding out until i had the entirety of this part done, but part 3′s cliffhanger was brutal and i couldn’t make you guys wait any longer. some notes: this will ultimately be a hea! i promise! that being said, ellie is kind of awful in this part and i promise this will all be explained and resolved in the coming part(s)—there’s a reason why she’s being so silly goofy! (also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so i’m sorry if it’s not that good Lfdjaklfjds)

wc: 4.7k

here’s a playlist inspired by exoplanet!

part 1

part 2

part 3

tags! @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma 

@ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland​ 

“Come here, then.” 

You froze as her words processed in your head. You hadn’t expected her to react positively. She wasn’t supposed to react like that. She was supposed to awkwardly scratch the back of her neck and tell you that, wow, that was really sweet, but she wasn’t really ready for anything, and you weren’t really her type. Except that was the Terranovian way to reject someone. Maybe it would’ve been a more realistic expectation to assume that Ellie would laugh at you, or maybe tell you to fuck off. 

She wasn’t supposed to tell you to come closer.

But she was waiting for you now, so you pushed the thoughts aside and shifted your weight forward, pulling your legs under you so you were balancing on your knees.

You hovered over her, the heels of your palms growing numb from holding you up.

“Do you need a written invitation or something?” she said once you’d stared down at her for a little too long. Her voice was softer, with a teasing edge. 

“Don’t be mean,” you said, blushing wildly. “I’m getting my nerve up. Give me a minute.” 

“You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re being remarkably unhelpful.” You weren’t sure why she was making you do all the work. You were getting steadily more flustered, your pulse rising and your heart crawling into your throat the longer you looked down at her.

She liked that, you realized with a start. She liked seeing you turn into a nervous wreck because of her, even if it meant waiting.

“Change your mind or something?” 

You shook your head. 

“So come kiss me.” It was barely a whisper, so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been leaning over her. 

One of her hands shakily raised to brush a rogue piece of your hair behind your ear. Her touch lingered. Her fingers opened to glide through your hair, halting at the nape of your neck.

You shut your eyes and dipped your head. 

It was an innocent, tiny kiss, your closed lips barely brushing before you pulled back to gauge her reaction.

But before you could fully open your eyes, the hand that was cradling your neck pulled you back down. 

It was like a dam had broken. Your nervousness and anxiety about what you were doing—kissing your friend—faded into the background as your thoughts instead turned to the fingers tangled into your hair and the wet heat of her mouth against yours. 

Your hand splayed out on the pillow next to her head, balancing you as you dipped lower, tilted your head, and let her pry your lips open. The hand that wasn’t threaded through your hair slid up your shirt, running up your back and coming to rest between your shoulder blades, a pleasant, warm weight.

Slowly, you pressed into your hands and tried to maneuver your legs so that you were straddling her instead of doing that goofy kneeling position at her side, but one of your arms gave out and you pitched forward, accidentally knocking her teeth with yours. 

“Sorry!” you said quickly, pulling away and feeling horrified as you sat back on her thighs. 

Ellie just laughed. “It’s fine. That was pretty ambitious of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your arms are scrawny,” she said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think you were going to last long up there anyway. No offense.”

“You don’t get to just say the foulest things to me and expect me not to be mad because you threw in a ‘no offense’,” you retorted. “And, for the record, my arms aren’t scrawny. I’m just genetically predisposed to be lean and have low muscle mass.” 

“Just—shut up,” she said. “Don’t you ever say something like ‘genetically predisposed’ in my bed again. That’s so stupid.” 

“You’re—”

She cut you off. “You can tell me all about how mean I am to you later. Now switch with me.” 

She flicked your elbow to emphasize her point, extracting her hand from under your shirt as she waited for you to get off her and lie down on the pillow.

You frowned as you flopped onto your back, feeling like you’d been demoted. You would have been fine. You could have done it—maybe not for long, but for a bit. You’d done it before. Fuck this shit. Also, if this was going the way you thought it was, you wanted to go first, not her.

But your frustration didn’t last for long, as when Ellie straddled you, gathered you up, and kissed you again, your mind went completely blank.

Things felt a little different with Ellie on top—like you were moving with more direction. Your kisses had long since turned sloppy, your hands twisted in the back of her shirt as you pulled her closer, closer, trying to drink her in.

The tips of her fingers were calloused, pleasantly rough against your skin as one hand ran up and down your side, careful to avoid the stitches. 

You heard her shift, but given that your eyes were closed and her tongue was in your mouth, you didn't bother to consider why. Then a hand wrapped around the non-stitched side of your waist and pulled you down the mattress until something hit the apex of your thighs, and you couldn’t stop that gasp that left your mouth.

The knee thing. Oh, my god, the knee thing. She was doing the knee thing. She was going to be the death of you. 

Ellie paused, your lips making an audible noise as they separated. You could see a sheen of wetness on her mouth. 

“Okay?” she whispered.

You nodded, but any pretense of appearing mentally present disintegrated as the hand on your waist tightened, rolling you roughly against her knee. 

The sound that left your lips was honestly and objectively very embarrassing—something between a yelp and a strangled gasp—but you decided to think about it later as Ellie leaned back down, her mouth pressing to your jaw and dragging down to your throat.

You keened, rocking down onto her as she passed over the sensitive part of your neck. She paused, her lips freezing before she sucked at the same spot again, this time slower and with more deliberation. 

You were a mess. All she’d done was kiss you and let you grind against her thigh with multiple layers of separation, and you were already falling apart underneath her, your hands desperately tangled in her shirt and your breathing frantic. 

Once her lips had trailed down to the curve where your shoulder met your neck, you tentatively fingered the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up. 

Wordlessly, she sat back and let you drag her shirt up, helping you once you got to her arms. 

“What?” she said once she’d gotten her head through the neckhole and tossed it off to the side.

Your mouth had been hanging open, so you shut it before you responded. “Uh. Nothing. You’re just—really pretty.” 

“Really pretty,” Ellie repeated drolly.

You covered your face with your hands. “What? Is that a crime?”

“Isn’t it?” said Ellie. 

You peeked through the gaps in your fingers. There was a smirk pulling at her lips.

“In Terranova,” she elaborated. “It is a crime, right?” 

“Oh, Christ. Can we not talk about that now?” 

She laughed.

Her fingers closed around your wrists, pulling them away from your face so you had to look at her dead-on. She leaned down, her lips brushing your pulse point.

“I’m just teasing,” she whispered into your ear, and you felt the sheets at the bottom of the bed bunch up as your toes curled. 

She kissed you again, her mouth parted and soft. Your hands wandered up and down her bare skin, pausing where you heard her gasp and dragging your thumbs across the peaks of her chest until her breath hitched.

It didn’t take long until she’d helped you out of the loose t-shirt she’d given you when you’d arrived, her warm hands a welcome respite from the cool night air. 

Then you felt the waistband of your shorts tighten, her fingers dipping briefly under the elastic. 

“Do you want me to—”

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy. 

“Sheesh,” said Ellie, though at the same time she was pulling them down your thighs. “Eager much?”

“I’ll leave,” you warned.

It was an empty threat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ellie. “I’ll make it up to you if you’re so offended.” 

Her hand nudged between your legs, fingers rolling languidly up the middle of your clothed center.

“Oh god,” you whined, no longer caring about the magnitude of your reaction in regards to what she was doing to you. 

Your hands shot out to haphazardly grip the sheets as you felt your panties get pushed aside. Ellie’s knuckles slid down your folds, making a lewd wet sound from all of the slickness as she separated them. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you could see Ellie intensely studying you, her eyes cast down to where she was touching you as her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. 

You wanted to feel self-conscious. After all, it had been forever since you’d been touched like this, and to have it be done by someone you were so anxious to impress only added insult to injury. But your mind was so clouded with want and desperation that you couldn’t even bring yourself to want to close your legs, no matter how closely she seemed to be examining you. 

Something prodded at your entrance. Your legs tensed.

Ellie paused. “Alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, shutting your eyes. 

The prodding morphed into a stretching sensation as something entered you, your walls seizing up and tensing as you sharply inhaled. 

“You could try relaxing,” Ellie whispered casually, like her finger wasn’t actively inside of you. “Just a suggestion.” 

“You could try not being an assho—”

Ellie’s thumb swiped across your clit, cutting you off as an involuntary gasp left your throat. 

“Oh, sorry,” she deadpanned. “Were you saying something?”

You sent her a withering glare as she smirked back. Your resolve didn’t hold long, as once her finger withdrew and plunged deeper into you, you were long gone. 

It wasn’t long until one finger became two, scissoring in and out of you while you writhed beneath her and keened over and over again. The room was silent apart from the obscenely wet sounds emanating from between your legs and your whimpers.

As you felt tension begin to pool inside of you like a rubber band about to snap, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down the bed at Ellie.

She was biting her lip in concentration as she worked her fingers in and out of you. Her eyes snapped up to meet yours just as she hooked her fingers inside of you, pulling a high moan from your lips.

“There?” Her voice was low and slightly raspy. 

You nodded helplessly, feeling her pull her fingers out and thrust them in again, angling them just so to brush up against the front of your walls. 

Your head flopped back on the pillow, your mouth falling open as you gasped. You were almost there. You just needed—you weren’t sure exactly what you needed.

“Please,” you managed to stutter out, not clear on what you were asking her for.

But as you felt her press on your clit and rub a tight circle, you realized that Ellie knew exactly what you wanted. 

The rubber band snapped, a white-hot ball in your middle bursting and sending a tremor through your whole body.

You came down with a gasp of air, feeling your walls spasm around Ellie’s fingers once, twice, thrice—until you lost count. 

There was a tug between your legs, and you heard the squelch of her pulling out. You clenched around nothing, tiredly noting how strange it was to be empty again.

Ellie’s head dropped to kiss your shoulder, carefully avoiding your injured side even as she pressed her weight on top of you.

“You okay?” she asked once she’d sat back up. You didn’t miss the way she wiped her fingers on her shorts. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling reason and rationality begin to trickle back into your consciousness. Oh God. What had you done? 

She didn’t say anything as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, leaning down to retrieve her shirt.

Oh God. You hadn’t just made out with your friend. You’d let her finger you. You’d come apart under her and now you were going to have to eat breakfast and go on patrol and talk to her for the indefinite future knowing that she knew what it felt like to be inside you.

Horror built slowly within you as the implications mounted. You never slept with anyone without clearly defining the boundaries first. You’d never just…lost control, like you just had.

Ellie was standing up, pulling on her shirt and blissfully unaware of your overthinking spiral. Slowly, awkwardly, you reached down and pulled your shorts back up, trying your best to ignore the mess that was between your legs. 

Something landed atop your chest, making you jump. It was your top, helpfully tossed by Ellie from the floor. 

Nausea began to build in your stomach as you quickly redressed, head spinning. Would you get to have your defining conversation now? Did Ellie want to define what you were? Was she going to let you sleep over? You really, really wanted to, but you didn’t know how to ask.

She finished fussing with her shirt and turned back to you, seeing you sat on the edge of the bed.

In a stroke of courage, you caught her hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her palm. You heard her breath stutter before you released it, letting it fall. 

It felt like a confession. One that went beyond just “thinking” about someone. 

“I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Your voice was hoarse, tired from what you’d just put it through. 

“How could I not?” There was something in the rawness of how she spoke that made your heart lurch. 

“Since…since when?” 

You waited a few moments before amending it. “I—actually, don’t feel like you need to say so.” 

Ellie shrugged, joining you on the edge. “You first.”

“Since…” Since the first night you wanted to say, but you couldn’t make the words come out. That felt too vulnerable, especially when you weren’t sure what you two were yet. That might be too much. “It’s been a while,” you settled on as a vague compromise. 

Ellie nudged the edge of your foot with hers. “I figured. You spend all of your time gawking at me.”

“I do not.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Maybe a little. But I was very subtle about it.” 

“Yes, very,” Ellie agreed, nodding gravely. “Didn’t even notice.” 

There were so many things that you wanted to ask her—you wanted to turn the question back to her, you wanted to ask if you could sleep over, you wanted to ask what this meant—but the heavy silence of the room was too thick to speak through. 

“I’m, uh, I think I’m going to go to bed,” Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. 

“Oh, right,” you responded. “It’s late. Me too.”

It was in fact not that late—you and Ellie had stayed up much later on prior evenings.

“Uh—sleep well,” she said, turning to you. 

An acute pang of hurt twanged in your chest as you realized what she was implying. 

“You too,” you said softly, reaching over to unplug your laptop and grab the charger. Your knees cracked comically loudly as you stood up, but neither of you reacted to it. 

You stole one last glance at her once you’d made it to the doorway. She was watching you, her chin resting on the palm that was propped up by her elbow. “Goodnight,” you said, trying your best to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Goodnight.” 

The walk to your room was short enough that you managed to keep it together until you’d slipped inside and shut the door tight. Then the tears pricking at your eyes began to fall, your back sliding against the door as you fell into a ball. 

It felt stupid to be crying over the fact that you’d had a hookup that hadn’t turned into a passionate love confession and the opportunity to fall asleep in her arms. You and Ellie were so different—there was no reason to believe that she wanted you on any level that wasn’t physical. Maybe she was one of those people who could have sex just based on attraction without it meaning anything. 

And to be upset because she hadn’t cuddled you afterwards or complimented your body or played with your hair or anything—ridiculous. There was no reason to believe that Ellie would suddenly stop being Ellie—sardonic, emotionally detached, asshole Ellie—just because you were in her bed. She’d done nothing wrong except be the person that she’d shown you she was many times over.

You knew this—you knew all of this, but it wasn’t enough to console you. You still wanted her. You still wanted more. You yearned to be touched by her, not just the rough caresses that pulled you over the edge, but the ones that you were expecting had she let you stay the night. 

A while passed as you sat crumpled on the floor, knees pulled to your chest and shoulders heaving. By the time you’d gathered the strength to get up and pee (you highly doubted they had cranberry juice out here, and contracting a UTI on top of everything else was going to be enough to make you jump over the wall banging pots and pans until every infected came to check you out), you were sufficiently cried out, feeling rather like a wrung out washcloth. 

It hadn’t been all bad, you thought to yourself as you splashed your face and washed your hands in the warm light of the bathroom. As long as this hadn’t permanently ruined the friendship between you two, you’d maybe consider doing it again. Despite the emotional turmoil and overall lack of intimacy, it had been nice. In the moment. Next time—if there was one—you’d just lower your expectations. 

Some Ellie was better than No Ellie. 

Yeah. 

You could do that. 

~

“We’re in a fight.” 

The words made you jump a foot in the air, nearly pitching you forward on the sidewalk as you were heading to the stables to help Maria out. 

“Dina!” you exclaimed.

She was frowning at you, her arms tightly crossed.

“Is there a reason we’re fighting?” you asked. 

“You promised you’d come hang out with me,” she said, jutting her chin out. “And where have you been? Not at mine.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, heat rising to your cheeks. In truth, you’d been so caught up with your Ellie obsession that you’d forgotten about Dina. 

“I guess it’s not totally your fault,” Dina conceded, waving a hand. “I keep telling Ellie to stop being so greedy, keeping you all to herself like that.”

“It’s all been so much.” Your stomach dropped at the mention of Ellie, whom you had exchanged very brief pleasantries with that morning. Or, as pleasant as Ellie’s “pleasantries” could be. 

“How about you tell me about it?” pressed Dina, her lips lifted into a smile. “Come over? After you’re done with whatever you’re doing? I’m off today, so I’m yours whenever.”

You sent her a grateful smile back. “Sure.” 

Your work with Maria finished up quickly—mostly cleaning and polishing the saddles and washing the bits. Before you knew it, you were sitting on Dina’s couch, your feet pulled up under you as you held a mug of hot tea.

Dina wanted to know everything about Terranova—a welcome change from Ellie, who only sparingly asked you about what your life was like. Her bubbliness made you so at ease that you found yourself telling her things that you’d never said out loud before.

“And that’s when I decided that I’m definitely not straight,” you finished.

She giggled and set her mug down on the table between you, leaning forward and giving you a look full of mirth. “You know, speaking of that…”

“Oh?”

“You know Ellie’s into girls too, right?” 

You froze, your smile plastered artificially on your face. The memories of her fingers between your legs last night drifted back, and you shut them down before they lingered for too long. 

“Uh, yeah,” you said lamely. 

“Interesting.” Dina nodded, her eyes unfocused. “Have you two—I dunno—talked about that?”

“Just a little,” you said, shrugging. It wasn’t a lie. It’s not like you two had extensive conversations about the general queer experience on the regular. And her fingering you didn’t involve much talking. 

“Well, I think you should go for it,” announced Dina. 

You choked on your tea. “Huh?” 

“I know she can be an asshole sometimes,” said Dina, making a face. “But I’m definitely picking up on something between you two. I think she really likes you.” 

“She—” You cringed, thinking of how she’d essentially kicked you out the night before. “I don’t really think she does.”

“But you do,” said Dina, her eyes sparkling. “Just tell her.” 

“There’s nothing there,” you said vaguely. 

Dina gave you a long, suspicious look. “Right. If anything changes, you know you can tell me, right?”

You wanted to tell her about what had happened last night so, so badly. But it felt like you’d be crossing a line, talking to someone you’d essentially just met before discussing it more thoroughly with Ellie. 

“Of course,” you said, willing yourself to send her a convincing smile. 

~

Dinner proceeded as normal, with you making casual conversation with Ellie and Joel. Though you two were sitting next to each other, there was no foot-kicking or thigh touches. 

Not that you should’ve expected anything, you thought, scolding yourself. Just because someone fingered you once doesn’t mean they were in love with you. You didn’t call yourself a chef after cooking one meal. 

That night, you lay awake after your shower, feeling your freshly washed hair dampen the edges of your shirt as you started up at the ceiling. Ellie normally knocked by now—hours earlier, in fact. She wasn’t coming. 

You rolled over, pulling your comforter up and trying not to cry again. Silly, stupid you. You’d gone and ruined it all just for someone who didn’t like you very much, She’d purposefully evaded the question of you asking when she’d seen you like that, you realized. This was probably more opportunistic than anything. 

She was all you had here. Of course, you had Dina and Joel and Maria and Jesse, but they were nowhere near the same as Ellie. Ellie had been the one to save you. Ellie had been the one to console you after your first patrol. Ellie had been the one to card through your hair while you were shaking and in shock from being shot. No matter what they did, you would never feel as pulled to them as you were her. 

There was a knock at your door. 

You paled, then brought your hand up to frantically wipe away at the wetness forming at the corners of your eyes. 

Quietly, as not to wake up Joel, you crept over to the door and opened it.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie.

“Hey.” 

She swallowed, looking down the hall before she met your eyes. “Are you—are you busy?”

“It’s 11 o’ clock at night,” you whispered. “My schedule’s not exactly booked.” 

“Right.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you, uh, want to see me for a bit?”

You gulped, feeling stuck in place. Was this all it was ever going to be? A midnight rendezvous that ended with you doing a walk of shame down the hall? 

“Your room or mine?” you asked, folding regardless of your angst.

Ellie blinked. “Uh. Mine? It’s further from—um, there’s more walls in between mine and Joel’s.”

For a moment as you walked alongside her down the hall, you wondered how you’d ever feel comfortable undressing and touching her again, given how awkwardly you two were interacting now.

But once she shut the door and wasted no time in clutching your jaw between her two hands like she was praying and kissing you like she wanted to drown in you, those worries slipped away.

It was much like last time. Ellie didn’t even give you the chance to get on top—you were tossed onto her bed and caged under her arms before you could even think to take control. 

She pushed you over the edge twice with her fingers, this time mouthing at your jaw as you writhed beneath her.

When you came down, you laid panting on her bed, watching the spots in your vision dissipate as Ellie rested on the pillow beside you. Tentatively, you turned so your nose pressed into her jaw, your lips pressing light kisses to her neck.

She shivered, but didn’t push you off.

You took the opportunity to drag your fingers up and down her bare arm, feeling the pads of your fingers catch on the texture of her skin.

Even in the dark, you could see faded marks scattered all over the pale expanse of her skin. Next to her, your skin looked pristine, untouched, like a doll just taken out of the box. 

There was a sting deep inside your chest.

“You’re such a good person,” you heard yourself say. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

Ellie tensed under you. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just—” You paused, thinking about how ridiculous you sounded. This was a hookup. Why were you getting all sentimental on her? “I wish that you didn’t have to go through everything that you have. You’re—you’re just so—”

She sat up abruptly, pushing you off her.

“I’m not ‘a good person’,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have no idea what I’ve done.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know you now. You’ve been so kind to me. I’ve known people who have grown up with silver spoons in their mouths for all their life who are much crueler than you’ve ever been.”

When Ellie was silent, you took the opportunity to reach up and let your fingers trace over her cheekbones, watching the constellations of freckles under your touch. You wanted to memorize everything about her. You never wanted to stop touching her. 

“What are you doing.” It came out in a flat, tired tone.

You tried to hide the way your face fell as you retracted your hand. Right. Hookup. You needed to remember.

“Sorry,” you said, gluing your eyes to your hands. 

“This isn’t…” Ellie paused, and you saw her curl her hands into fists. “This isn’t like that, okay?”

“I know,” you said, but the confirmation of the fact sent a pain so acute through your chest that it was all you could do to not wince. “But we’re friends, right?” But you still care about me, right? was what you really wanted to say. That would do as a poor substitution. 

You could feel Ellie’s stare despite not even looking at her. 

“I should go.” You swung your legs over the edge of her bed, wondering how you were going to make it to your door this time without bursting into tears. 

“Wait,” said Ellie. 

“I hope you sleep well,” you continued, begging, praying that your hurt wasn’t showing as obviously as it felt.

A hand curled around your wrist as you reached the door.

“Wait.” Ellie’s voice was firm enough to make you finally look at her. Her face was stony, but you could see something in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “We’re—friends. We are. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” you said lightly, plastering a little smile on your face. If you stayed in here for another minute, you’d be a sobbing mess. “It’s late, though. I need to go to bed anyway.”

She let you slip from her grip. The door behind you thudded softly shut.

That night, you curled up into a ball under your comforter, feeling your still damp hair stick to the back of your neck.

It was better than nothing, you reminded yourself. Better than nothing.

final a/n: I”M SORRY IM SORRY i know that this just complicates everything more but i’m trying to be realistic about ellie’s character...i promise i will patch things up soon! the second half of this chapter is coming out hopefully within the next few days depending on how quickly i get better from being sick! (also again i’m so sorry abt the smut i’ve never written anything like this before so i was feeling really iffy)

[auroravictorium]

high infidelity (pt. 1) (k.b.)

do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Summary: pekka gives up on trying to get information from reader and decides to wait for kaz's arrival instead. reader endures a bad injury, and the crows arrive to help. reader finally gets her revenge.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: ~4.3k

Warnings: LOTS of blood and violence (stabbing, vague description of gutting someone), minor self harm (reader holds a piece of porcelain tight enough to cut her fingers), death of non-canon character(s), use of guns, shooting, lots of pain, mentions of illness/infection

Genre: angst and action

Author's Note: if you didn't read the warnings, PLEASE go back and look at them! this is a lot more violent than previous parts. also! this is from reader's pov! you can find kaz's pov here! sorry for the wait! i hope you all enjoy :))

part two

It was raining.

The pooling of water in the corner of your cell was the only indication you had of the weather outside. Seeing the filthy puddle forming made your already dry mouth seem borderline painful. You hadn't dared to touch the dirty bucket of water in the corner, surviving only off the broth and the small bowl of water your captors occasionally provided. At this point, you were willing to take the chance of drinking the rainwater leaking into your cell.

You ran your thumb along the edge of the porcelain shard you sharpened upon your return to your cell however long ago. The threat of piercing skin was a nice distraction from the aching of your throat, the white-hot pain in your chest, and the beginnings of a fever you were trying desperately to ignore. The gash on the back of your head hadn't started to heal; instead, it had gotten worse. 

If you threatened to cut your finger enough times, you could ignore the reality of your situation settling over you. If they don't kill me, my injuries will. Internal bleeding, infection, starvation, dehydration.

However you considered it, you didn't have much time.

You didn't want to consider the possibility of Kaz not coming to get you. He had to be looking for you. He'd worked too hard to keep you out of the Dime Lions' hands to give up when mercenaries did their work for them.

But he had to know that Pekka planned to kill him if he came to get you. Kaz wasn't a fool.

Would he leave you here to die or come to get you and risk death himself?

The porcelain shard broke the skin of your thumb. Blood beaded at the wound and seeped down the ceramic, staining it a deep, lethal red. You almost didn't feel your finger throbbing, and it took a few moments to register in your mind that you should drop the makeshift blade. You should stuff it beneath your shoddy pallet and try to sleep until the mercenaries dragged you back upstairs. You shouldn't add to the injuries on and beneath your skin.

You did none of those things. Kaz will come for me. You curled your fingers around the shard, slicing the skin of your other fingers, and let your eyes slip shut.

He will.

As drowsiness wrapped you in its cool embrace, you realized you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Not because Kaz would abandon you, but because you knew you were running on time that wasn't your own. You were at the mercy of the mercenaries, Pekka Rollins, Kaz's ability to get to you. You were at the mercy of exhaustion and the infection taking root in your blood. 

If Kaz made it to you, would he find you alive or dead? Would he bring you back to Ketterdam to heal or to be buried?

Nine months ago, you'd faced death at the hands of a rogue Dime Lion on a job. As you'd felt those ice-cold shackles on your limbs, you'd thought of Kaz's smile. At the time, you'd never seen it; you'd convinced yourself you never would, but it was a thought you suddenly refused to accept as death came for you. Your defiance brought you back to life and to Kaz, stubborn, foolish Kaz, who decided to wait until your near death before confessing he cared.

Now, having seen that smile, having felt his hands in yours, having born dozens of wounds for the chance to get back to him, would you accept death as it stalked closer? Would you let it pull you into its embrace, lead you to the Saints as it had millions of others? Would it take you this time?

Unconsciousness claimed you before you could answer any of your questions, sinking its talons into you and jerking you beneath the cold waves.

-

When you woke up, you saw the sky. Your eyes were so bleary, weighed down in a way they hadn't been when you fell asleep, that you thought you were imagining it. But no, it was there just beyond a grimy window and far from your reach. It was grey and dreary, and the air smelled faintly of rain, untouched by the mildew and rot of your cell.

Your cheeks felt hot, yet you shivered as you glanced around at your surroundings. You were in the main room of the warehouse now, surrounded by rusty machinery, empty burlap bags, and other miscellaneous garbage from the building's production days. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, nor was your porcelain shard. But you weren't alone; Pekka sat in a chair before you, his legs propped on a crumbling metal table. He spun a revolver in his hand and added a bullet each time he finished a rotation.

He'd cleaned the blood from his face and beard and changed his clothes since you'd seen him last. He looked as he had the day he first arrived, an unknown amount of time ago. Clean. Composed. Disgustingly powerful.

You jerked your hands against your bindings as if you had the strength to pull them free or break them against the wooden support beam you were tethered to. "Either pull the trigger or leave me be," you said. Your voice was unexpectedly hoarse, and you flinched at the sound. Each word sent scraping pain down your throat, and every breath coming out of your lungs felt too warm, too final.

Pekka smiled pleasantly and slid another bullet into the chamber. "These bullets aren't for you, lass. My men have seen your crew in the city, coming to make their rescue. I reckon an hour until they find you, maybe less if the boy knows where to look."

"I'll make sure your next of kin is aware they can expect to find your body in the canal in a few weeks," you snapped, forcing as much venom into your words as you could, which wasn't much in your state. You leaned your forehead against the wooden beam and shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut. It was too warm in here. You were so cold.

The news of the Crows being nearby should have perked you up and motivated you to keep fighting until they arrived. Instead, you could barely bring yourself to offer a scathing remark in acknowledgment. Even your worry for Kaz was dimmed by your worsening fever and overwhelming fatigue, not to mention the pain coursing through you as you shifted your weight from one leg to another.

The sound of boots echoed against the stone floor and off the walls, and you slowly opened your eyes to see who it was. All three mercenaries were prowling over, armed to the teeth and looking no less than bloodthirsty. The Crows had to be getting close to the warehouse, wherever it was; otherwise, the mercenaries wouldn't be leering at you like they had a few final sick bits of torture they wanted to inflict.

The one you hadn't seen since the coach ride, whom you half-heartedly decided to name Number Three, stepped forward and pulled a knife from the sheathe at his thigh. His free hand was bandaged, the result of your bite as he attempted to drug you in the coach, and you would've been smug about it if the world wasn't starting to wobble around you. Number Three cocked his head, and his brown eyes roamed you up and down, taking in the sallowness of your skin and the injuries scattered over you like a gruesome painting of red, blue, and purple. "Not much bite left, huh, sweetheart?"

You didn't bother responding, resting your head against the support beam and letting out a slow breath. Your heart thundered in your chest, making your head throb painfully; it took everything in you to not panic. Being outnumbered hadn't bothered you before, but it felt more threatening now that you knew Kaz and some, if not all, of the Crows were close to rescuing you. You were so close to freedom. 

Hold on a little longer.

"Someone not feeling well?" Sergei drawled. He prowled closer, and the tip of a blade traced over your hollow cheek. It slid down your jaw, a terrifying caress as it traveled down your throat, shoulder, and bicep until it stopped at your forearm. You stiffened, turning your face away and trying to shift around the support beam to get away. But a body stood behind you, and Fjerdan Asshole clamped his fingers onto your shoulders to keep you in place.

You gritted your teeth and jerked your shoulders, but the grip only tightened. "Now, now," Fjerdan Asshole chastised. "Hold still." His fingertips pressed painfully into your flesh, and you fought to keep from groaning through your teeth. 

Breathe.

Sergei slowly slid your shirt sleeve up, revealing the dark ink of the Dregs tattoo on your skin, and you held back as he lifted his knife. He pressed the tip of it against the crow's head, nipping the skin, and your breathing sped up as blood slowly trickled down your arm. 

He leaned in until his mouth was against your ear. You trembled and turned your head away, but you refrained from cracking your skull into his nose. It was too risky in your condition, and the pulsing of the gash in the back of your head told you that you needed to stay still. The world was still tipping from one side to the other, in time with the throbbing of your wounds.

"Tell me," Sergei hissed, "has the pain been worth it, knowing that we're going to kill him the moment he steps through that door?" In one swift movement, he sliced the sleeve of your shirt right off, leaving a thin cut around your bicep where he'd removed it. "Knowing that it was for nothing? That you marked yourself with a symbol that will mean nothing the moment Ketterdam hears he's dead?"

He twirled the blade across his fist, his eyes darkening with a rage that made you feel sick. If your stomach weren't empty, you would have vomited onto the floor as you realized what he had planned. The knife. The utter hatred for the symbol on your arm. The slicing of your sleeve from the rest of your shirt like a surgeon performing a routine exam.

His words were deliberately spoken as if you'd live to see a Ketterdam without Kaz Brekker in it, where your only reminders of him would be your memories and your tattoo. This man intended to tarnish the first with pain and ruin the second with blood, and the rest of your captors intended to watch. 

The orchestrator of it all smiled, a disturbing glee filling Pekka's eyes as he watched the realization cross your face.

You jerked your arm in his grip as your shoulders and breathing trembled with panic. It rattled your lungs, irritated your broken ribcage, filled your mouth with a coppery, bitter taste. "Get your hands off me," you snapped, twisting your arm to hide your tattoo. But there was nowhere you could go, absolutely nothing you could do to prevent this, and Sergei only readjusted his hold. Firmer this time, making the skin whiten beneath his filthy fingers. It would bruise, and your ruined tattoo wouldn't be the only reminder of what he'd done.

"I'm going to do you a favor," Sergei whispered like he had a secret to share. He brought the knife's tip to the top of your tattoo again, near the crook of your elbow. Your pulse thrummed beneath the touch of the metal, and you had to look away from the sight of his thumb tenderly stroking the inner skin of your elbow. Nausea rose in your throat, bile seeping onto your tongue as someone other than Kaz touched you with such gentleness. "Wipe the slate clean. If you're still, maybe you won't have a scar."

Tears brimmed in your eyes, and you couldn't bring yourself to stop them. There was nothing to be done, nothing to stop this. No breathing to exhale the impending pain, no controlling the sudden spinning of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut and sagged against the post as a quiet sob slipped past your lips.

No mourners. No funerals.

It was the only thing you could think, echoing through your mind in Kaz's voice. A quiet rasp shared in the dark of his room before you left, however long ago. The most he could offer right then, but more than enough for you. 

You clung to what little comfort the memory provided and focused on every detail you could remember. Kaz's eyes. The concerned purse of his lips. His dark hair, ruffled from running his fingers through it too many times. Dust motes spinning lazily through the air, caught in the faint moonlight streaming through his window. How he looked as if he wanted to say so much more.

The comfort was temporary, beaten back as the blade pierced your skin. It was the worst pain you'd felt since you'd been taken, a hot flash of agony reverberating bone-deep. Your arm was on fire, liquid flame dripping down your skin as Sergei drove the knife deeper and slowly carved it downward.

You screamed. The sound tore at your raspy throat and echoed around the warehouse loud enough to make Pekka, Number Three, and Fjerdan Asshole flinch. Sergei remained unaffected, continuing his morbid surgery with a nauseating glimmer of amusement in his eyes. You tried to pull your arm from Sergei's grip, but his hand was an immovable vice around your arm that locked it in place as he slashed your Dregs tattoo in half. 

Torn, jagged edges of skin, seeping blood. It was all you could see through your tears as you sobbed, turning your face into the wooden support beam to hide the damage from your view. The world started to tilt and spin faster as blood rushed from the wound and dripped onto the floor, splattering your boots and turning the stone red.

Sergei released you, but you couldn't let your arm drop to your side as you wished. With your wrists bound around the pole, you were forced to see your arm utterly ruined before you. It was the worst kind of torture, seeing blood where ink once was, how quickly a mark you fought to earn could be destroyed.

You heard footsteps moving away from you, and the hands resting on your shoulders disappeared. Wooden chairs scraped against the stone floor as the mercenaries started to settle around the table Pekka sat at, murmuring and snickering amongst themselves.

Metal thumped against stone, and the sound was followed by the rattling of chains.

The mercenaries went silent, and their chairs shifted once more. Safeties clicked on guns, and you heard metal hissing against leather as daggers were drawn. "Grab her," Pekka hissed. "It's Brekker's crew."

Nobody got the chance to lay hands on you before the doors to the warehouse slammed open, and four figures came rushing inside. Two tall ones, two shorter ones; a glittering crow on a cane, shimmering blades, spinning pistols, and sparkling coat buttons. Kaz, your friends, your Crows. Even through nauseating dizziness, you would know them anywhere.

Before you could call for any of them, the room exploded into chaos as Kaz threw a phosphorous bomb down and filled the air with smoke.

Chairs moved, and weapons clashed, filling the air with noise that rang in your ears and made you want to take cover. Pistols fired, and someone groaned. A body hit the floor next to you, and you flinched away from the face of Number Three staring up at you, a bullethole clean through his forehead.

To get out of the line of fire, you carefully maneuvered around the support beam, using what little leeway you had. You ducked as something flew right past where you stood moments ago: barely recognizable, charred chunks of chair legs.

You let out a shaky tremble and tried to get closer to the floor, unable to do much more than wait until someone cut your bindings. Until then... Despite the searing pain in your arms, you slowly started to scrape the rope against the wooden surface of the support beam, hoping a stray thread would catch in the rotten, splintering surface. Please please please. This isn't their fight alone.

Through the white haze of the room, Sergei noticed your attempted evasion and snarled. He broke from fighting with Inej, blocking a slash of her blade with one of his own before crossing to you. He cut through your bindings, jerked you to your feet, then held his bloody blade to your throat. 

You cried out as he hauled you back, stumbling and nearly tipping over as the world did flips and your legs went out from under you. Black spots danced across your vision, and bile rose in your throat. You lifted your uninjured arm to get a grip on his wrist so you could push out of his hold, but he pressed the blade to the underside of your chin just hard enough to nip the skin. "You move, and I slash your pretty neck," Sergei growled in your ear. "Now, we're going to walk toward the back, and you aren't going to fight me."

Sergei started to walk backward, keeping his dagger positioned at your throat and ignoring how it shallowly cut your skin when you stumbled. As you got further from the clearing smoke and saw your friends locked in combat with Fjerdan Asshole, you felt the fading sparks of your energy flare back up again.

They smoldered until they sparked, sparked until they set alight, heated until they burned hot enough to burn away your pain and your exhaustion and your memories of the past days. You forgot about your fever and the wound in your arm rapidly losing blood. All you saw was the leader of the mercenaries swinging his fists at Jesper and batting Inej away like a fly, and Pekka landing a strike on Kaz's face hard enough to break the skin. 

All you felt was rage for what they'd done to you and what they planned to do to your friends.

Bracing your hand against Sergei's arm, you bashed your head back against his chin and pushed away the weapon in his hand at the same time. Pain shot through your skull and right down your spine, threatening to send you sprawling to the floor. But you managed to stay upright and turned on your heel, swinging your left fist toward Sergei's face. His head cracked to the side, and bone crunched beneath your knuckles. His knife clattered to the ground as he grunted and stumbled back from the force of your punch.

You dove for the knife, landing badly on your injured arm with a loud cry, and narrowly managed to wrap your fingers around the blade's handle before Sergei shoved you onto your back. He pinned you to the floor with his weight and tried to wrestle the dagger from your grip, his fingers clamping around yours with bruising force. You panted and struggled, anything to keep him from establishing a hold on the weapon you'd managed to grab. The first one you'd had access to since yours were taken.

You'd die before you gave it up and let yourself be unarmed again.

Sergei suddenly froze above you, halting his attack as his face turned bright red. His chest was still, frozen on an exhale of breath, and he clutched his throat with his blood-stained hands. You watched in bewilderment as his eyes rolled back in his head, and his lips turned blue. Blood bubbled at the corners, starting to slide down.

You gasped for air, glancing over Sergei's shoulder to find the source of his agony. Nina stood there, her hands outstretched as she squeezed his heart and lungs. More blood seeped from his lips as her grip tightened on his organs, her fingers curling toward her palms. Her lips were pursed in determination, and her blue eyes were dark with fury. They flicked to yours, and she nodded.

Now.

You didn't need convincing. You drove the dagger into Sergei's chest as hard as you could with one arm's waning strength. Blood poured onto your hand as you pushed it up to the hilt beneath his ribcage, soaking into your remaining sleeve and sticking it to your skin. Sergei's mouth fell open as if he might scream, but no sound came out. Red drops fell from his lips onto your face and neck, and you wanted to gag as you twisted the blade to force it as deep as it could possibly go.

Sergei teetered before slumping to the ground, writhing and trying to pull the dagger from his chest. His frantic movements slowed until his arms fell to his sides, and he seemed to realize he was beyond saving. 

It should have been enough. Seeing death approach in his eyes should have satisfied the hungry wrath burning in your chest, roaring in your ears. Instead, you pushed yourself into a kneel at his side. The ground was slick with blood as it pooled around him and dripped from your arm, and the world wobbled around you as you wrapped your fingers around the dagger's reddened hilt.

You ripped the weapon from his chest, making him scream in agony. A sick, twisted part of you relished in the sound. Good. I hope he hurts. 

"Was it worth it?" you hissed, turning his words back on him as you positioned the blade above his navel. "Drugging me, breaking me, trying to kill me, only for you to die by my hand?" You dug the weapon in, piercing his flesh with slow precision. "By your own weapon?" You leaned in until your faces were inches apart, letting him see the wrath in your eyes. How unapologetic you were for what you planned to do. 

He was alive enough to finally look afraid of you.

"I'll make sure there's enough left of you to be buried," you breathed. "Maybe if you grovel, the Saints will ensure you spend eternity in fewer pieces."

Sergei's eyes drifted shut. It was possible he didn't hear your words. Perhaps death had already claimed him, but you didn't care. You couldn't as rage flooded every nerve in your body. At that moment, you knew nothing else, even as black dots danced across your vision and you swayed unsteadily.

Your hand trembled as you twisted the knife in his abdomen, burying it further before shoving it upward with the rest of your strength. Blood slickened your palms and pooled around your knees. Distantly, you could see how much damage you'd done, how he was cut clean open from his navel to his sternum. You didn't want to look any harder than that.

The rushing in your ears slowly died out, leaving you in a heavy, numb silence as Sergei died before you. The fighting had stopped sometime during your moment of fury, and the air reeked of sweat and the metallic tang of blood. It was you and Kaz and the Crows, surrounded by the culmination of every decision you'd made up to this point, from leaving your family to whispering 'I love you' in a city full of vengeance. You never imagined your life and hands would be tainted by blood and death.

You'd always imagined the world spinning slowly, twirling gracefully on its axis. It was colorful and bright, carefree and uncomplicated. Clean, untouched, magical.

The world was not so.

You collapsed onto the stone ground between one blink and the next. The room spun too fast around you, so blurry and dizzying that you squeezed your eyes shut. Hands, so many hands, found your body, pressed against your wounds. 

Gentle fingers pressed to your forehead, and you felt your pulse begin to slow. Sleep started to tug on you, pulling you under.

Tears slipped down the corners of your eyes, hot against your clammy skin. "No," you whispered, trying to turn away from the probing fingers. But your muscles couldn't or wouldn't cooperate. "No more. Please." You'd slept enough. You didn't want to sleep anymore.

You forced your eyes open, trying to focus on the blurry shapes moving above you. Four faces, your friends. One was closer than the rest, pale and streaked with blood. Kaz was hunched over you, examining your wounds.

"Nina, her arm," Kaz said. His raspy voice was familiar and comforting, like cocoa on a bitterly cold day, but panic lay beneath the words and froze you to the bone. You'd never heard fear in that voice before. "Jesper, the coach. Take Inej. Go."

A flurry of activity happened around you; two sets of footsteps disappeared as quickly as they arrived, and gentle fingers started to work on your arm and the back of your head. Gloved hands wiped away at the blood they could find, then one found your hand and gently squeezed as your eyes fluttered shut.

Sleep overtook you as your resistance failed, eased by Kaz's careful touch. It tethered you to earth, a silent promise that he wouldn't let you drift away. He was gloved and dark and the subject of every faded dream that danced through your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You trusted him to pull you out of the fog when it was time.

kaz pov (part 2) here!

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin18, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3, @dark-academia-slut, @aeslenya, @directioner5life, @notjustsomeblonde, @osteopsycho, @travelingmypassion, @tiana76, @angelhxneyy, @princessatoru, @despoinapav05, @writingatdusk

[tassodelmiele]

NSFW Soap x Ghost

from the serie *why the hell i'm not sleeping it's almost 2 in the morning*

I like wet situations. Ok?

I also like sucking candies.

Maybe that wasn't necessary to be told. Oh well.

Also, i had not read it twice, that means there will be plenty of grammatical errors.

I've got 6 hours of sleep, so, my beautiful cinnamon buns, i wish you a nice sleepy night after the reading~

..................................

...

..

It started as a stupid game: sights undercover, pretended noises and silly moans in the ears when the team was around. 

Ghost was joking. 

Soap, on the other hand, no. 

<All down, till your nose tickels…»

He waited patiently, pushing Johnny's head little by little, feeling his hot breath gagging and choking on the length that was growing.

From time to time the Sergeant jerked a little, on the verge of throwing out. Ghost's hand blocked him in place.

<Air in sergeant, through your nose»

He did; he would have followed any order at this point; Ghost knew it.

<Good boy»

It was just a delightful pleasure for the eyes, that man knelt between his legs, so eager to keep his meat warm. The hand was pushing harder, strangling the mohawk in the grip, digging the fingers in the scalp. That touch wasn't enough.

<Suck it»

And Soap immediately did, closing his lips around the length and chewing it on the soft part inside his cheeks, while the tongue was helping, pushing and caressing every little vein, every bulge, catching every drop of bitter juice that Ghost was holding without breathing anymore.

His hand suddenly tilted, pushing Soap's stuffed, cute face on the hairy pube. Sergeant's hands grasped onto Ghost's tights; a desperate muffled whimper came out from his throat.

<Enjoying it, aren't you?>

Lt.'s hand grabbed his puppy's mohawk like a puppet, making his head scrolling a little, right and left, up and down, fucking his face so nicely, quietly and slowly, enjoying every gagged breath and wet droll on his pants.

<Ya'r gonna clean it, gorgeous»

A low, long moan gave him confirmation. 

Ghost's sight had been tied to that goddamn microphone the whole morning. He didn't know who was the genius who'd thought: "let's glue the mic in a choker"; Ghost would have thanked him later, though.

He had to wait till the evening to catch Soap by the back of his neck, like a goddamn cat, and resist the urge of pulling him by the choker in front of the whole team. 

<Need ya for a minute»

Well, maybe two minutes. Or three.

Half an hour later, the choked moans were wetting the walls, dripping off the Sergeant's mouth with so much pleasure it was like he was eating the yummiest piece of cake of his life.

Ghost was so spread on the chair he was almost melting inside the hot mess of that hole, holding back the primal instinct that was whispering in his ears: fill his ass and split him in two.

But he was not an animal. No; he was a human under a pressure test, grabbed on a chair that was threatening to fall apart and on the mohawk that had taken the print of his fist at that point.

On the other side of the ring, Soap was a bloody sucking-machine, so diligent, so good, so attentive in reaching all the length, down to the base as his Lt ordered, and up to the tip, without spit a drop, licking his own saliva on his way, just to come down again, not risking to let that deliciously hard meat uncovered.

Famished as a starving kitty, whimpering desperately at every push and pull on his hair, moving his hips alongside the sipping rhythm.

Then he opened the mouth wider, unexpectedly, choking on the length to the edge of his throat, tongue out and moans dripping with pleasure.

Ghost grew all at once inside those comforting lips; he gagged a breath, tensed up every muscle, held Soap in place till he could feel the heat of his face on the pube.

He came in a rushed, thick mess, stuffing the Sergeant's mouth all at once. 

The grip on the mohawk loosened. Lungs came back to work, and a growled sigh end up Ghost's apnea:

<That makes things way more complicated»

Soap chewed the white mess in his mouth, swallowing bitter-sugary liquid down the throat, tied up in constant eye contact with the black holes in the skull mask.

<Quantify»

...............................

[littlexscarletxwitch]

another idea! someone harrassed you online and Yelena does her spy stuff, gets the dude to Actually apologize and Mean it. and then as she's comforting you she's like...sneakily going down to eat you out and make you forget about stupid boys.

-💦🍯

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with some plot, it's actually not that dirty, I mean it is but I was hoping for it to be sweet and lovely and cute, not sure if it worked out tho, yelena being the overprotective gf she is

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, mentions of online harassment, mentions of a boy being a dick (I hate men), yelena wanting to kill said man because he made r cry, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.7k

note: NONNIEEE, I'm sooo sorry it took me so long to write this. But I'm so glad I finally get to post this one. I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry if it's not as dirty and smutty as you wanted it. I still need so practise lol. Thank you for the request, anon, ily. I'm not an english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

To say she was pissed was an understatement, she was furious, she felt as if her blood was boiling, and all she could see was mad red.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and all she could see was you. Everytime, her mind took her back to a couple of hours earlier in the day, and there you were crying, brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling and your phone in front of your eyes. Her heart skipped a beat once she took a look at you. She felt the muscular organ breaking into a million pieces, you looked so small, and fragile, like a lost puppy.

“Y/n? Baby, what happened?” Yelena asked, concerned and worried in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing. I just…,” you sniffed. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Yelena’s thumbs gently brushed them away.

“It’s not ‘nothing’, Y/n. What happened?” she took your phone from your hands, leaving it on the floor and wrapped her hands around yours.

“People can be so mean. Why are they mean, Lena?” you sobbed, your head fell on her shoulder as you let the river of tears flow.

It took you a while to finally open up to her because you wouldn’t stop crying. Yelena’s heart sank into her tummy as she listened to your words carefully. The sadness she felt for you soon shifted into anger as she realised the reason why you were crying was because of some stupid miserable insensitive boy.

Some brainless damned bored fucker had made some online comments about you. She scoffed, how did that asshat dare to make you cry? How did he dare to say those awful things about you? Was he really that bored to mess with you? Was he really that miserable to make other people cry? And you of all people. Why did it have to be you? You who were so sweet to everyone, including people you didn’t even know. You who would never talk shit about anyone. You who would always take care of everyone else before yourself.

It was Yelena’s job to take care of you. All she wanted was for you to stop crying and to make you feel better, so she made it her mission, literally. She wasn’t good with her words when it came to you, she felt like she could never say the right thing to make you feel better, so she did what she did best, and made it her next mission to find this repulsive freak and make him pay for all the tears you had shed because of him.

You were so tired from all the crying that soon enough you had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She carried you up to your shared bedroom, tugged you in, left a soft kiss on your forehead and got to work.

Tracking this guy down wasn’t hard at all, the jackass was careless, he probably thought that leaving hate comments here and there wouldn’t cause him any kind of problems. But boy was he wrong.

She breathed out one last time, trying to not let her anger get the best out of her, and then she opened up her eyes. There she was, parked right outside Jared’s house. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, she felt like she could just kill Jared for what he put you though. But she knew you wouldn’t like that nor would it help you.

“Okay, here it goes,” she said, getting out of the car.

She impatiently knocked on the door, making no attempt to stop the loud knocking until Jared dared to open up.

“Jesus, I said I’m coming,” she heard someone say from the other side.

As soon as the door was unlocked, she pushed it open and made her way in.

“Hello, Jared,” she said, shutting the door behind her with a fake small on her lips.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sounded as angry as Yelena felt.

“We are going to have a chit chat, Jared.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. You are going to leave or I’ll call the cops,” he stepped forward, trying to intimidate Yelena. She just rolled her eyes at the action.

“I’d like to see you try,” she said, pushing him back strongly enough for him to lose his balance and fall on his butt. “You see, Jared—.”

“How the fuck do you know me?”

“You said some things that I didn’t like,” she ignored him. “In fact, I’m really pissed off at the moment, so much that I feel like I could just rip your head off,” she chuckled as she watched the horror in his eyes. “You fucked up, Jared. Big time. You made the person I care most on this planet cry, and I hate you for that.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got the wrong guy, I swear I didn’t—.”

“Oh, really? So you are not @jaredrocks.com?”

“I, um…,” he hesitated, swallowing down the lump that had formed on his throat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena.

“Yeah, I figured,” she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “So here’s what you are going to do, Jared,” his face went pale as he noticed Yelena’s mood change, he could tell she was getting angrier by the second and he didn’t want her to snap. Not after she pushed him to the ground so effortlessly.

All he could do was nod as Yelena talked, “You are going to come with me, apologise to her and you’ll promise that you would never do bad shit ever again, Jared. Because if you do, I will find out and I won’t be holding back next time. Got it?” she raised her brow at him for Jared to quickly nod again. “Great! Get on your feet.”

Once Jared and Yelena made their way to your shared apartment, she quickly pulled him out of the car and to the front door. You were waiting for them, well actually just Yelena. She had called you earlier and told you to be outside, she said she wanted to show you something. You felt a chill crawling up your back once you saw a man walking next to her.

“Baby, this is Jared. He has a lot to say to you.”

“Jared? I don’t understand—.”

But you were quickly cut off as Jared began to ramble about how sorry he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he was just bored and sad, that he was a pathetic little douche bag —Yelena made him say that— and that he would never do something like that ever again. That he regretted ever doing something like that. Suddenly it hit you, he was the prick who wrote that shit about you.

“You really hurt me, Jared.”

“I now can see that. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you could only nod at him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Okay. You’re done here, Jared. Now, get lost,” Yelena patted his back motioning for him to walk away.

“But I don’t—”

“Get lost, Jared,” Yelena repeated herself, this time her tone was harsher and Jared got the memo.

Once he was out of your sight the two of you made your way inside the comfort of your home. You still felt weird about the whole situation. You appreciated Jared’s apology, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all his mean comments.

“Y/n, stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“I know you are thinking about everything he said, but you must know that he was full of shit,” she said, making her way towards you on the bed.

“Lena, I just…” she could see the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“Y/n, you are the prettiest, smartest, kindest girl I ever had the pleasure to meet. You are so full of light, Y/n. Don’t let an asshole like Jared put you out, you hear me?”

You nodded, battling the tears.

“Let me show you how special you are, Y/n,” she said as she brushed her nose against your cheek, her lips impatiently searching for yours.

Her lips muffled a gasp coming out of your lips. Like usual, her lips moved perfectly in sync against yours, soft and rough. Her tongue danced around with yours. Her teeth biting your bottom lip. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as your skin set on fire just with how close she was.

“Make me forget, Yel,” you said breathlessly in between kisses.

Your back hit the bed as Yelena got on top of you, her lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around her hip and quietly moaned once your clothed core made contact with hers.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” she mumbled against your skin as she trailed a path of wet kisses along your jaw.

Somehow in between kisses and soft caresses, Yelena got your body bare. She left a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, another right in between your breasts, and one on your abdomen before making her way to your aching wet core.

“So perfect,” you heard her say before the room was filled with your loud moaning.

She sucked, bit, kissed and licked as she pleased, making a mess out of you. Gently but eagerly she pushed two fingers inside of you, a moan escaped from Yelena’s lips as she felt your cunt clenching around her fingers. She kept a steady pace, slightly curling her fingers to get you to enjoy it as much as you could, as her lips worked on your clit.

Your hands flew to her hair, tugging at it, pushing her even closer to your cunt. And with a loud cry you came undone on her mouth. Yelena’s lips moved fast to drink up every bit of your juice she could as her tongue helped you ride your high. Once you were finished, she left one last kiss on your cunt and went to cuddle you.

She tugged you in, making sure you were warm and wrapped you in between her arms, leaving small kisses on top of your head.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Y/n,” you heard her saying as you drift off to sleep, tiredness getting the best of you. “Never again, I promise.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[oneshotnewbie]

Can I request Spencer Hastings x Reader where A actually made Spencer hurt someone while being at the dollhouse where she is covered in blood and it's Reader? At the hospital Aria sees that Reader gets stitched up because she is having a deep cut from a knife and tells the other when she goes to Spencer's room? Spencer is all worried because you changed since then and are all quite and not that bubbly she used to know you and she also knows that A took all the anger out of Reader and she had to take the most shit because A thinks that Reader is the weakest member of the girls squad? At home Reader doesn't want to talk to Spencer or the girls at all until Spencer is all messed up on her door and crying her eyes out because she remembers what happens? Angst and fluff please???!

⚠️Trigger warning! ⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of kidnapping, blood, stabbing/cutting wounds. These plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

---

Two months. Your friends and you had struggled to survive for two whole months.

A had played games with you, tortured, despised and treated you as puppets. Asking so much mentally that you all didn't even know what you should feel after your, almost failed, escape. At least not you.

You didn't know how you could ever be around your best friends again after A urged you to shock them, choose who was next to play his sick game and who wasn't allowed to get water for the next few days. But apparently they had taken out their desperation on you too; you didn't get anything to drink or eat for days. A even managed to bring Spencer to hurt you.

And now you were out of the underground hell and had no idea what to do next and how you should behave towards Spencer. She apparently had no idea about the night when you woke up on her bedroom floor, your best friend attacking you like a fury and hurting you; A had probably put her on some kind of drug.

But you escaped the chaos thanks to Alison and were now in the hospital for observation according to the circumstances and the lack of nutrients. Mentally you had suffered a lot and it was not easy for all of you to return to a regular life but you knew that somehow, the girls would get through it.

While the others had probably gathered to talk about what had happened, you were bound to your bed and frankly you were glad for it. Standing across from Spencer would be too uncomfortable for you at the moment.

You looked at the ceiling with your lackluster eyes while you gave the doctor the time to sew up the last few inches of your abdominal wound, not really listening to him or the words that came out of his mouth- Your thoughts completely wandering off.

They were repeatedly disturbed by a gentle drop of the liquid flowing to your vein and it was unbearable for you to hear this noise, it brought you back to the place where you didn't hear anything else except the ticking clock in your supposedly own room.

With a violent pull, the door to your room opened with a loud squeak and you jumped up before you let yourself fall back onto the couch with a wrinkled nose, a pained face and tightly closed eyes.

"I´m sorry. I did not know-eh." the short brunette stuttered as she stood in the doorway and looked at you in shock. Staring eyes and an open mouth embraced the long cut on your stomach, which stretched sideways to your navel.

A little embarrassed, you pulled the piece of cloth you were wearing over the doctor´s hands to uselessly hide the cut - she´d already seen it anyway. The old man in front of you stopped in his movements and put the instruments he had a hold of in his hands aside before turning to Aria. "I am asking you to leave. We´re in the middle of a treatment."

She nodded quickly apologized before she took a few steps back, still confused without further speaking, and the door clicked shut with a soft click.

You actually intended to keep it a secret from your friends, but you knew that as soon as Aria entered the other girls room, she would tell them what she had seen and you had no chance to talk your way out of it.

And then the whole truth would come out.

---

Confused by the imagine she had of her best friend and the huge gap on her abdomen a few seconds ago, the little brunette walked quickly down the hospital corridor to get to Spencer´s room where they all wanted to meet up.

She had not learned anything from just now and threw herself against the heavy door to open it, also without knocking first, and now stood in the entrance of the bare room. Three tired and lost pairs of eyes settled on her and surveyed the enraged statue, which stood in front of them with a wide open mouth.

Completely isolated in her thoughts, Aria sat down on one of the chairs that Emily had already placed in front of Spencer´s bed and fumbled around with her fingers. She bit her lip bloody from sheer worry and not knowing when the deep and long cut on your stomach was made and who was responsible for it, but one thing was clear; if she found out who A was, she would kill him for the pain that person had caused you and the others.

"Earth to Aria.. are you okay?" Hanna tore her out of her thoughts and gently nudged the smallest of the pack. Now Spencer and Emily, who were talking wildly earlier, had stopped and looked eagerly at the brunette. "Yes.. no. I´m okay but Y/n is not."

"What about her? Have you seen her?" Spencer abruptly intervened in the conversation, sitting up from her laying position. Her voice had lost it´s tone, was hoarse and low, even though she had just sounded perfectly normal not too long ago. "What happened?"

"I went to check on her because I was worried and then I saw how she was being treated." Aria quietly informed her friends as she cleared her throat and started playing with her fingernails. "She has a huge cut on her stomach. Something happened to her down there and she has not told us anything."

Shocked looks turned to the youngest of the group and she pushed back in the chair. Crossing her legs and arms, Aria looked back and forth between the girls and caught on to Spencer. She could clearly see the brunettes pulse in the main artery of her neck, the trembling of her dilated pupils surrounded by nervousness.

---

The situation between Spencer and you lay like a stone on the brunettes heart. Through therapy sessions with Sullivan, she had managed to partially bring her memories back to the fore.

The person she did this to was still fuzzy but it must have been you; the wound Aria had told her about matching where the blade in her hand pierced through the body beneath her. She had felt it was you. Of that she was sure.

But you remained silent about this situation as if this event had not happened in your reality. A week had passed in which you were discharged from the hospital with a whole medicine cabinet. Since then, you had been holed up in your room at your family home with no communication to Spencer.

Calls and messages flooded your phone, even literally exploding it with requests about getting in touch with her; at least let her know how you are doing. But she never got a single answer and your chat remained empty from your side.

The paths to your front door were softly lit as she walked through them. Flares were placed to the right and left of the pacing stone and illuminated the entire flower-planet front yard. The sprinkler system whirred next to her as she took one step after the other.

On the way here, she had given herself a motivational speech, but it disappeared with ever step she took.

Reaching the mahogany-like doors, she stood motionless and still on the patio. Her heart raced as she exhaled shakily and began pounding on them. It was a cooler evening, one of the firsts when she thought about it, and it had been too cold to wear a loose shirt. Spencer would have preferred a sweater, but that was of secondary importance.

As she waited, her mind filled with a bitter emptiness. She was terrified of a confrontation with you, but it would help her understand how you were feeling and how she could make amends. If anything. The brunette wanted to be pragmatic- the most efficient way to get a satisfactory answer.

Slow footsteps sounded on the other side of the door and she thumped heavily when she heard your faint voice in the distance. She huffed and ran a hand over her long brown hair before the door opened abruptly, revealing your pale and tired features under the hood of your white hoodie.

"Y/n.." she spoke cautiously and did not dare to look at you any further. She could see the pain you were in and Spencer felt even more guilty than before. She cleared her throat, nervously pulling her hands to strap of her bag that slung over her shoulder. "Before you slam the door in my face, listen to me. Please,"

You remained silent, disbelieving who you had in front of you.

Spencer could judge by your body language that you were more than just uncomfortable. All muscles tensed in your thighs through the dark blue ripped jeans you were wearing, your hands were tucked deep in the kangaroo pocket of your hoodie and yet she could tell you were fiddling with your fingernails nervously.

Without saying a word, you moved to the side and let her into the house. As she passed thankfully with pleading eyes, she breathed in deeply the floral perfume you were wearing. Spencer missed your closeness and your warmth towards her so much that she clung to every breadcrumb that was given to her in that moment.

"Are you home alone?" she asked in irritation as she was enveloped in the silence of the walls and saw only the flickering TV in the living room. You nodded firmly, your hands mostly tucked into your sleeves and positioned in front of your body. "My parents flew to Paris"

"And left you alone after you went through hell?!"

"What do you want, Spencer?" you shouted angrily and turned your head to her with a rigid expression. Your sudden explosion let her loosen from her rigidity before she stared at you with wide eyes and you thought you saw fear flicker in her eyes for a brief moment. "I do not think you came here to judge my parents."

The mood was strange. Cold, distant and restless. The unspoken swelled between the two of you. Sadness and fear burned in your chest while your best friend had a tiny spark of hope that she was trying to weave into normal conversation.

Motionless, the addressed person sat in front of you, looked deep into your pain-piercing eyes while tears stung hers. Spencer's heart was pounding deep in her chest and it had probably reached it´s highest point now. It pounded in her head, throat, abdomen and paralyzed her. It was indescribable.

The brunette swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She rested her elbows on the marble area and buried her head in her hands before rubbing across her nose. Very sheepishly with a shaky voice, she continued. "I know what I did. I remember."

Beside her you gasped and bit your lip, she could not quite identify the emotion she saw in your eyes. Where before there had been a coldness and severity, she now found something else. "W-what?" you said cautiously in a cracked voice.

Spencer kept shifting nervously on the bar stool, her hands alternately clawing at her pants, the counter in front of her or the disappeared back to the shoulder bag. "Just go now, Spencer. Please-I," you spoke suddenly, breaking her train of thought.

You ran a hand through your tousled hair nervously. "Y/n," she cut you off sharpy and your chest tightened. You found it difficult to breathe.

Spencer took another breath, ready to either explain or,what you thought was, more likely an apology. But she did not get around to it; you continued in a loud raging voice. "Do you actually know what I had to go through when you fucking came at me like a madman?"

You practically yelled at her, your voice already hoarse. You saw in your veil of tears how the older one flinched and her shoulders wandered to her ears. Nevertheless, she did not break her deep gaze, but got caught in your teary eyes. They had darkened. "Or how it felt to look into my best friend´s eyes, begging her not to do it while the knife was already penetrating my skin?"

The brunette felt like she was a little kid again. When she smashed the window with the hockey ball and was getting the lecture of the century from her parents. However, she would not end up in your comforting arms after she shed the first tears. You would not reassuringly run your fingers through her hair or insist that it was just glass and could easily be replaced.

No, this situation went much deeper.

Spencer opened her mouth that suddenly dried out. Tears streamed down her face in unison with yours and she let her eyes roam over you again. "I am so sorry.." she could not pronounce it, her throat tightening with every word. "I could never hurt you. A did something to me and that monster was not me. It is not me. I love you."

The leadership she took at the moment, trying to explain her actions, distracted from your troubled insides. You could not completely turn off your heart and the thoughts of the past hours and days.

Still, you knew her words were serious and she was genuinely sorry. It broke your heart to see her so upset. She too was under the influence of drugs that A had given her to commit the crime. You exhaled loudly and just looked at her, could not keep your mind from racing.

Slowly, you circled the counter and stepped carefully to her side. Your fingertips gently touched her cold, trembling and bare forearm. Spencer reacted to the touch she thought was impossible immediately and looked at you. A positive feeling flowed through her and she laid her head at the level of your belly button. You flinched at the pain, but swallowed it to keep her close.

You cupped her sticky, sweaty fingers and intertwined them with yours. Indescribable affection went through the brunette and she drew herself closer to the person who understood her so well. Who went through this hard time with her and who would master recovery together.

Relief flowed through the eldest, you could see it in her face which showed the corners of her mouth far raised. She knew that she still had a rough road with you ahead and that she had to help you to trust her completely again. Above all, you needed someone to overcome the nightmare and the anxiety.

But most of the ballast had fallen off her. A decisive step in the right direction.

[ramp-it-up]

ii Most Wanted Part 9: Shotgun Rider

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: Jealousy, wedding plans, & a little smut, too. 😉

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. Jealous, sexy Sy, Angst, Sex in committed relationship. Oral sex, female receiving, sex partially-clothed, gagging, semi-public sex? Dirty talk, cream kink, size kink, raw p in v, command kink, Sy in the workplace, fluffy Sy, future plans, airport goodbye.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the ninth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

-------------

Sy walked up close behind you and pressed the steel bar in his pants into your expensively clothed backside.

“Me too, Buttercup. And I’ll tell you what else is a sure thing.”

“Jake Syverson…”

You pressed back onto him as his hands came up to grip your hips tightly through your skirt as you turned your head to meet his lips over your shoulder.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d had each other over the weekend, but damn, it felt like you needed him like the first time.

“You gonna fuck me over your desk?”

You bent slightly at the waist while Sy bounced you against his khakis, watching your rear as his cock swelled. He shook his head to try and clear the cloud of lust, but it wasn’t working. Something was making it stronger this morning.

“Trust me, Buttercup, the way that ass looks in that skirt, don’t think I haven't thought of it since you walked onto my site. And everyone else on the job, too.”

The way he said it caused you to turn around in his arms and look into his eyes. You’d never seen that look before: possessive, with dark clouds in his eyes. 

It was hot.

“Sy… are you… are you jealous?”

He licked his lips and slid his hands around to cup your ass again. The side smile that was added to his proprietary look only made him more appealing.

You continued on your quest to understand his mood.

“It’s not okay, but men and women on a construction site work hard, and some off-color jokes are gonna fly. I didn’t hear anything that was offensive, though.”

Sy cringed when he thought of what almost came out of Billy’s mouth. And who the hell knew what Cole and Joe were gossiping about. But one look at Mike Ackerman’s face, and he knew exactly what he was thinking.

And he wanted to kill him. He’d had no such urges since Afghanistan. He took in your face, those eyes, those lips. The thought that Mike Ackerman would have the nerve to think– He shook his head and looked down.

“What are you thinking, Sy? Remember you said you’d be straight with me.”

Sy sighed as he looked into your eyes. Fuck, he was going to have to talk.

“Most of those knuckleheads have some manners. But Ackerman can be a grade- A piece of work. You didn’t see the way he looked at you. And the look he gave me. Made me wanna- ”

Sy’s glare turned darker, his scowl making you want to ride his face. But then you noticed his fist was off of your ass and clenched at his side.

“You’ll do no such thing. Fix that face, Sy.”

You moved his hand back to your butt and put your arms around his neck while pressing yourself close to him and giving him a long kiss. He’d moaned twice before you were done. After kissing his attitude away, you set about tenderly wiping your lipstick from his mouth with your thumb. 

Sy shook his head at you as he drew you even closer.

“You don’t understand men, Buttercup.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. 

“Oh? Educate me then. Before my interview, you said Ackerman was a good guy. The first thing I told him today was that we are going to get married and he congratulated us. Twice. Once in my interview and once at the worksite. What am I missing here?”

Another puff of air escaped Sy’s mouth.

“Just a couple a’ things, Buttercup. One, you are fine as hell, he’d have to be blind and made of stone not to notice that. And two,” Sy’s eyes wandered away from yours to focus at a spot above your head.

“...There’s been this… competition between us since we were kids. He loves to rattle my cage.”

You thought it was hilarious that Sy was this wound up. You smiled, but quickly stowed it away when you saw his face. All you could say was, “Okayyy.”

“I know you think it’s stupid, but you didn’t come to town until senior year. Mike was a grade ahead of us, already playing at State when you arrived. Even though he was older, we were always in competition. Football, baseball… girls…”

The lightbulb came on in your mind.

“Ohhhhh I get it now. And I remember you saying something about Becca dating an older guy before she dated you.”

Sy huffed and tried to pull you close again, because you were trying to get out of his grip. 

“That's not what this is about. There were other girls as well. People said we looked alike–”

You laughed at the thought. 

“I don’t see it.” 

Sy rolled his eyes. 

“Me neither. But it became a game to us. It started as a bet my freshman year with Angie Cozart, and–”

“I do not want to hear about the bonehead things Baby Pimp Sy did before I met you. The things you did after I met you take up enough space in my brain.”

Sy winced.

“You’re right. Buttercup. This is dumb.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not saying that what you are feeling is dumb, I’m not dismissing it, but I don’t care whether or not Mike Ackerman still thinks you and he are competing for whatever. I am not a sports ball or a chess piece. I am the future Mrs. Buttercup Syverson, and I’m not playing any games about that. Got it?”

Sy grinned at you, bringing the sun back out. Damn, he loved how you kept him in line.

“Buttercup Syverson? The preacher gonna say that at the wedding? That gonna be on the license?”

The grin stayed on his face as he teased you. You reminded him that he was deliriously happy.

You giggled. 

“Sure. Why not? I’m grown. I can be called what I want.”

You took his face in your hands.

“As long as you call me ‘yours,’ I’m good.”

And you kissed him again, causing him to wrap his huge hands around your waist and lift you onto his desk. You two kissed for a good long while, his hands roaming all over your body, seeming to take catalog of everything that was his. Your heart dropped to the floor when you realized you’d be leaving him soon.

“Sy…gonna miss you… miss this…”

“Me too, Buttercup. This weekend has been everything. I can’t wait until you come back for good.”

For some reason, your heart skipped a beat with anxiety. What had you done? You really said yes to him.

As if reading your mind, Sy pulled back and looked into your eyes, silently questioning you.

“You having second thoughts?”

He was so damn sweet, and the look on his face snapped you out of your head. You answered with your heart. And your soul.

You raised your hand to run your fingers over his lips.

“No, Captain. My brain is trying to lie to me, but deep down, I don’t want to waste anymore time. I’m coming back. Let’s get married, Sy.”

His heart did a triple flip of joy as he took in the sincere smile on your face. 

“I promise you, Buttercup. Everything is going to be okay. You and me were meant to be.”

“Damn straight. I’m your shotgun rider.” 

You put your arms around Sy’s shoulders and chucked your chin up, daring him to contradict you; there was no way that he would.

“Absolutely right. It’s why I brought Betty out of storage this weekend. My shotgun rider forever.”

And he kissed you again.

“You make me so very happy, Buttercup. I swear I’m gonna take care of you for the rest of my life.”

His hands started to roam again.

“Sy…”

“Gonna show you the best way I know how. Don’t have much time, but, want to, need to see you cum for me again before you leave. Wanna make you feel a way…”

His gravelly voice got you good and wet for him as his fingers traveled down your thighs in your skirt. The way your breath caught in your throat and your heart rate increased was heady.

“No one else ever has made me feel the way that you do, Sy.”

Sy was nuzzling your neck now.

“And I’m gonna make sure no one else will.”

Sy’s hands moved from your waist to your hips and skillfully spun you around so that you were facing the desk again. You looked back and kissed him over your shoulder

“Sy…” 

You were a whimpering, trembling mess as you looked up at him.

“Those fucking eyes, Buttercup.

He pulled away and looked down at your ass, which was now in his hands. He took a deep breath. 

“And the way you say my name.”

He gave you a sexy side smile. 

“Like I said. Been thinking ‘bout this all mornin’.” 

He kissed your lips, licking though to your tongue and doing a quick dance as he held you against his crotch.

“Gotta have you one last time, but you gotta be quiet.”

You licked your lips and nodded, giggling as he dropped to his knees.

Sy grinned up at you as his hands went down to your ankles and started sliding up your thighs, shaking his head and lickng his lips.

“Skin so smooth. Wanna memorize how it feels. You’re so damn pretty…so fuckin’ soft….,” he’d reached the apex of your thighs, having bunched up the knee-length skirt around your bottom.

The next thing he said sounded gruff.

“So wet in all the right places.”

“S-s-Syyyyyy.”

You were nervous, trying to see out the small window to see if anyone was coming, but also kind of turned on that you might get caught. Sy was only focused on one thing: your sodden center that he was spreading your lace covered cheeks to see. The black flowers were glistening over your wet folds, and he just had to verify that it wasn’t a mirage.

Soon, Sy’s nose and mouth were at the split of you, nose inhaling your scent, and tongue testing and adding to the dampness of your panties. You reached back and grabbed his hair, not caring that you were messing it up, and keened his name. 

“Love it when you say my name like that, Buttercup.”

Sy pulled back and his fingers deftly moved your underwear to the side, entering your tight heat. You ran your fingers through his hair as his eyes rolled back into his head and he licked his lips again. He looked up and asked a question.

“How many times have I had you in the last three days? And I’m still about to bust a nut in my pants like I’m a teenager. Need you like air, Buttercup.”

“Oh Syyyyyyy!” 

You keened again as two of his fingers pumped and in and out of you steadily and you couldn’t help but watch as he leaned forward, tongue out and an obscene smile on his lips as he licked a solid stripe up the center of you before attaching his lips to your clit.

You turned around to flatten your palms against the desk blotter, trying to ground yourself from this feeling as whispered groans and profanity leave your mouth.

Sy sucked and licked at you like a man determined. He was so good at this, and you told him so over your shoulder. He pulled back and spoke, glancing at your pussy again and licking his lips, but then stared into your eyes longingly.

“Only because I wanna be the one to make you feel good, Buttercup. Makes me horny. ‘S so damn hot when you…”

And he curled his fingers as he leaned forward to lick and suck at you again. You raised up on your tip toes as you felt the oh so familiar knot form in your belly.

“Cum for me. Please?”

How could someone command you yet beg at the same time? You flew apart in his hands and on his tongue, but he didn’t stop, Sy just kept lapping at you as you careened into another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Holy fuck, Buttercup. Just wanted your taste in my mouth as I put you on the plane. But now, gotta have this cream on my cock as well.”

You almost cried at the beautiful profanity Sy was uttering in your ear as he stood up and pinned you against the desk with his chest as he undid his belt and pants. You got impossibly wetter at the sound of it. 

His hands went to your panties again and ripped them at the crotch seam, balling them up and stuffing them into your mouth.

“Taste yourself and be quiet as I fuck the hell outta you, Buttercup. My cock is aching for you, baby.

“Ohyyyygahhhhhhh!”

Your eyes rolled back as you felt his knees bend and his knuckles against the flesh of your ass as he held his stiff dick against the entrance to your cunt. You gasped against the lace as he entered you in one hot, fluid movement and started fucking you relentlessly. One hand went to press devilish circles around your clit.

“Could spend all day like this, but we need to be fast.”

And you were quickly on your way to heaven. Sy was making sure of that.

You didn’t realize that you were screaming through the fabric until Sy’s hand clamped around your mouth, and the smell of your fluid on your fingers, combined with how rough he was fucking you, caused you to clamp down on his cock.

Sy hissed your given name into your ear and you started convulsing as his hips stuttered and he stopped, huffing into your ear as he tried to hold back, mouth open and latched onto your neck. You grabbed his hair and pulled, and he bit into your neck and tried to muffle the roar emanating from him as his cum sprayed into you: hot, forceful, and so voluminous that it almost immediately dripped out of you. 

He pulsed into you for what seemed like forever. He pulled the panties out of your mouth and laved the bite on your skin as he cooed in your ear.

“Gotdam, love you, Buttercup.”

He stepped back to pull up his pants and pocket your panties as you leaned forward against the desk. 

“Stay right there…”

You heard Sy walking away, and you turned your head to discover there was a small bathroom in the trailer. You dropped your head to the desk as you noticed that the room smelled like sex. You smiled at the fact that you two were doing it like rabbits. Anywhere and everywhere.

“Love you too, Sy. So much.”

You let Sy clean you up as you thought of the rest of the afternoon.

When you had straightened up and arranged your clothes, you gave him a kiss. 

“Gonna miss you.”

He pulled you close and gave you a hug as you sighed into his chest. You looked at the clock on the wall. Your flight left at 3:45, you needed to be at the airport by 2 pm at the latest.

“Almost noon. Need to swing by your place-”

“Our place,” Sy’s eyes were shining. You grinned.

“And get my bags, also need a quick shower. Thanks to you.”

Sy smiled at you.

“Alone.”

Sy pouted, and you laughed at him.

“We also need to get you something to eat before you get on that plane.”

You agreed.

“At the finest dining establishment.”

“You read my mind, Buttercup.”

—-

Ackerman called and offered you the job, great salary, benefits, and even a moving package as you and Sy were leaving the work site. You calmly told him you would think about it as you gesticulated excitedly to Sy as he drove.

“Told you it was a done deal, Buttercup,” he said as you disconnected the call. “I could tell by the look on his face today.”

“Don’t you start, Sy.”

You swatted at his shoulder and Sy caught your hand and kissed it.

“He wants me to start in a month, right after the 4th of July. That’s so soon, Sy.”

Sy was thinking it was not soon enough to have you back with him permanently, but he swallowed that thought. He shrugged.

“So tell him you need more time.”

You caught the tone in his voice and turned toward him.

“Well, in four weeks, I could put in my notice at the University, get packed up, find a management company to rent my house…”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that.

“I’m keeping my house Sy. Went through hell to get it after moving across the country from Scott. And the housing market in Cali is crazy. I could make a lot of money on the rental,” you replied to him.

“Hhhmph,” grunted Sy. He let it lie. Your spirit is what attracted him to you in the first place.

“But as I was saying Mr. Mighty Grumpy Even Though He Just Got Some Ass Syverson.”

Sy barked out a laugh at your audacity as you continued on your spiel. He pulled into Cardin’s Drive-Thru and pressed the order button.

“As I was saying, I was thinking that I needed another 2-4 weeks so that maybe we could meet up in Vegas in a month and tie the knot, that is, if that’s not too soo-”

Sy grabbed you up and had you in his lap, kissing you as the attendant knocked on your window.

“Give us a minute, please!”

You climbed off his lap and giggled as Sy grinned over at you.

“‘S Not too soon, Buttercup. Hell, we could go to Vegas tomorrow. I’m more than ready.”

You chewed your lip as you considered Sy’s idea. You wanted time to think and get everything settled. 

“I see you Buttercup. I’ll give you some space. But what about this idea? You go back to your house, start getting ready, packing up a little but don’t over do it, and I drive out in about three weeks, right around the 4th, pack you up in one of those containers…”

Sy leered at you as you laughed at him.

“... then leave it for the moving company to pick up while we drive back at a leisurely pace in Betty, go to Vegas, get hitched, and come back to married life and you start in August.”

“Honeymoon on the road? In Betty Bronco?”

Sy looked over at you, worried that it wasn’t enough for you.

“Well, we could–”

You hurled yourself over to him again and started peppering kisses all over his face. 

“It’s perfect! We could do the Hoover Dam, the Grand Canyon, Cadillac Ranch…”

Sy held you back from him as you cheesed. He could tell that your emotion was genuine.

“You’d really want that for our honeymoon?”

“Yes! A small wedding and road trip in Betty is perfect for us, Sy. I’ve done the fancy wedding honeymoon in Paris thing. That shit doesn’t matter. I told you, I just wanna be your shotgun for lifeeee!”

Sy felt himself getting emotional. He was going to give you the world, even if you didn’t ask for it.

“You’re the one that’s perfect, Buttercup. I can’t wait for you to be my Mrs.”

You felt the window rattle against your head as Sy held you in his lap. You were a giggling mess as he gladly ordered your burgers while you were safely ensconced in his grip.

—

An hour later, you were on the road to the airport, your suitcase full of Sy’s shirts, lighter some of your underwear. Your heart was full of bittersweet emotions, so happy that you were soon going to marry the love of your life, but not knowing how you were going to survive without him for the next 24 days.

You shook your head and laughed at yourself.

“What’s so funny, Buttercup?”

Sy looked at you, shining in the afternoon sunlight, showered and ensconced in tank top and leggings, layered with the dress shirt he’d been wearing that morning. God, you were beautiful.

“I’m just thinking how I came into town Ms. Independent and leaving anticipating being Mrs. Syverson.”

He picked up your hand and kissed it.

“Yeah. That is funny. Isn’t it.” 

He grinned at you and turned his attention back to the road. You shook his head as you thought of the balls he had to step to you the way he did just four days earlier. You loved this man.

“Gonna miss your face, Syverson.”

“Well, the next time you see it, you’re just gonna have to sit on it to prove that statement, Buttercup.”

It was your turn to laugh at him.

“I can’t with you.”

Sy gave you a cheeky grin.

“Yes you can. But in all seriousness. I miss you already. It’s gonna be tough, but soon, I’ll be rolling down your road ready to claim my bride.”

“God, you make it sound like we’re in a western and that I’m your mail order wife or something, Sy.”

“Hmmmm. Sounds like a good little fantasy to me. Maybe we’ll roleplay that soon.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you as he pulled into the short term parking lot at the airport. Your heart dropped, but you sucked it up as Sy got your bags out of the car and walked in with you to check them in. You lingered until the last minute you needed to go through security to say goodbye.

Sy held you tight as you started crying, realizing it as your tears started soaking through the polo he’d changed into. He kissed the top of your head as his own eyes started watering.

“You text me when you get to your seat, and text me when you land, and facetime me when you get home. I’ll be tracking your flight…”

Sy’s gruff voice betrayed his smile as you pulled back to fix your face. Good thing you weren’t wearing any makeup. Sy was marveling at how beautiful you looked in pigtails and watery eyes as he gave you one last kiss.

“See you soon, Buttercup. I love you.”

You gulped down a sob and decided to be a big girl.

“See you soon, Sy. I love you too.”

You knew he was watching you as you walked toward security. And you felt his eyes on you as you made your way through, until he couldn’t see any glimpse of you anymore.

——

Next Part Here.

Hope you liked it! Please Reblog if you did! 😊

[narcissisticmf]

liberty | zuko x fem!reader

description: an argument leads zuko and y/n to unveil some untold feelings.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, arguing, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 1.2k

Holding a glass container down in a babbling fresh water stream, you waited until it was filled to the brim before pulling it out. Subtle droplets of sweat dripped down along the sides of your face. The sun was hot. You pulled the container back and found yourself satisfied with the amount of water you collected for you and the group.

Standing up, you walked back towards the camp to see Aang practicing firebending with Zuko. Toph was with Sokka by the fire and Katara was gathering some edible berries from some bushes nearby the camp.

"Any luck with finding water, Y/N/N?" Sokka asked, looking over Toph's head.

"Yeah," You nodded and placed it beside Appa and Momo, where all your supplies was; sleeping bags, tents, blankets, etc.

"How's the teaching going?" You walked to stand beside Zuko as he stood watching Aang practice for a little while.

"Slowly," Zuko muttered.

"He seems to be picking it up pretty quickly though," You commented as you watched him do some fairly basic moves.

"Yes, but if Aang wants to take down my father, he has to be more than ready and basic firebending moves won't let him win," Zuko explained. You nodded and pressed your lips together softly.

"Well finish this up, we're gonna be eating in a little while," You replied and crossed your arms over your chest before walking away towards the fire.

.

While you and the group ate some dinner — a mixture of berries, some nuts and fish — you talked and laughed about memories you all had from your childhood. It was late nights such as these that made you extraordinarily happy to be apart of such an amazing group of people.

The night was brisk, but the fire was keeping you all warm. You sat next to Katara against a log, across from Zuko and Sokka. Toph and Aang sat beside each other on another piece of wood.

Once you were all done eating, you stood up from your seat and brushed off your pants. "I'm gonna go clean up before bed, I'll be right back," You stated to them as you walked off towards a nearby river. There you would cleanse your hair and the rest of your body before you'd sleep for the night.

Fireflies were illuminating the night beautifully as you walked through the forest towards the river. As soon as you made it there, you were just about to begin removing your clothing, but a snap from a twig behind you caused you to turn your head.

Despite the darkness, you saw Zuko standing there slightly awkward.

"Oh.. Zuko, it's just you," You breathed out softly, worried that it might've been a stranger or worse, an enemy. "Are you okay?" You asked.

"Uhm.. yeah," He nodded and scratched the back of his neck. "I was just.. wondering.. uhm, what you were doing?"

"I told you guys I was going to clean up before bed," You stated.

"Right, right.." Zuko nodded, seemingly nervous. "Y/N, I think you should know something," He started. Your eyes opened wider as a way to tell him to continue. There was stillness for a while, but you said nothing and waited for Zuko to compose himself. "I think we make a great team, ever since I've joined the group I feel like we've been able to make each other stronger.. and I just wanted you to know that," He whispered the last part as you smiled softly.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Zuko," You replied. "You've brought a sense of relief to this group and I couldn't thank you enough for helping us so much."

"Yeah.." He nodded slowly and locked his gaze with the dirt. "What I mean is.. you and me," He added bashfully.

"What?" You whispered softly as he lifted his gaze up to stare at you.

"I like you," He admitted and it sounded as if he was holding his breath that whole time. "No, I don't like you.. I love you," He said it fast, almost casual and soft.

"No.." You shook your head, whispering.

"Yes," Zuko nodded, "Yes, I do."

"Zuko.." You started, but he interrupted.

"Y/N, I've loved you since the minute I met you. I've tried a million times to tell you, but it's been so hard and I just thought that the best moment was right now because it seemed so perfect and right. Now, I know.. I'm not this wonderful great person and I'm not particularly good enough for you, but you have made me really happy. The best I've felt in years," Zuko breathed as hot tears began to stream down his cheeks. You parted your lips as tears began to brim in your eyes.

"No, Zuko, you are a wonderful person," You stepped closer to him, gently gripping his biceps as he looked at you with crying eyes. "I'm so grateful to you, Zuko. You have no idea what you've done for me and everyone else, you have brought so much peace with you since you've came. And I care about you so much, but I don't know if I can love you the way you want me to, so I don't want to tell you that I do if I don't feel it."

"You don't?" Zuko looked at you, standing still.

"No," You shook your head softly, "It would be a disaster if you and I courted."

"No, it wouldn't be a disaster," Zuko shook his head.

"Yes, it would, Zuko," You shakily stated. "We'd be miserable."

"Why are you saying this?" He asked, leaning in closer as you backed your head away to look at him directly.

"Because I've tried this sort of thing before, Zuko. I've tried and it has failed and I have been so terribly hurt," You admitted as tears burned the softness of your cheeks.

"Are you afraid I will hurt you?" Zuko questioned, softly as more tears continued to stream down his face.

"Not you," You shook your head. "I just can't put myself into a situation like that, not with so much going on right now anyway."

Zuko released a soft breath and stared at you as you brought your hands back down to your sides, "You don't love me?"

"No," You shook your head.

There was silence for a while. The only noise came from the crackling fire from the camp and the babbling river beside you.

"Zuko, I don't believe that I'll ever fall in love or be with anyone," You admitted. "I value my liberty too much to give it all up."

Zuko's eyes were bloodshot as the fast few tears continued rolling down his cheeks. "Is that all?" He asked, his voice cracking.

You nodded softly, while a few more tears escaped your eyes, as well. Zuko turned on his heels and walked away, leaving you to stand there, with your head falling to eye the ground as more tears burned through your closed lids.

.

a/n: hi, my loves!! this was inspired by that one scene from little women and i just loved it so much that i kinda wanted to try it with zuko! if you want a part two with a happier ending, lmk and i'll absolutely do that for you cuties!! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! mwah! — angelina.

[twhos-fests]

Gothic Fantasy Fest 2024: Day 1 Reveals

Today's GFF highlights are focused on the submissions we received that were inspired by or based on gothic literature. Such as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Alexis Henderson's House of Hunger, respectively. Mind the tags & Happy Reading! 🦇

Creation by @volchitsa-writes

"Her perfect man, made up of all the pieces of her favorite men..."

Warnings: | Dead Dove | Necromancy | Body Horror | Grief/Mourning |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson

Word Count: 8,000 words

Summary: Pansy Parkinson’s tenuous grip on sanity shatters when she loses several of her closest friends during the Battle of Hogwarts. As she teeters on the brink of madness and brilliance, she uncovers a dark method to cheat death and resurrect them.

The Portrait's Curse by MScrap54

"But it was too late, the door was open, and she was gone..."

Warnings: | Dead Dove | No Voldy AU | MCD | Body Horror |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Theodore Nott, Theo's parents, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass

Word Count: 4,964 words (+ counting)

Summary: There’s a curse upon the Nott family, one that will terrify and yet immortalize the members of the Sacred-28 family until their lineage runs dry.

House of Black by ParksandFiction

"Their blood and pleasure belonged to her and no one else..."

Warnings: Dead Dove | Vampire AU | LGBTQ | Implied Non-Con |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Pansy Parkinson x Hermione Granger, Narcissa Black x Pansy Parkinson, Narcissa Black x Hermione Granger

Word Count: 18,832 words (+ counting)

Summary: Desperate for a chance to pull herself from poverty, Hermione applies to be a Bloodmaid and is accepted at the mysterious House of Black. Intrigued in equal measure by the Countess Narcissa as well as her fellow Bloodmaid Pansy, Hermione soon realizes that all is not as it seems at the House.

Complete fest information under the cut!

Fest Disclaimer

Due to the darker subject material of the prompts, please mind every tag of the submissions you choose to read and engage with from our fest. Some fanworks include triggering and taboo content. So, take care of yourself, honor your limits, and enter at your own risk.

Fest Information

Gothic Fantasy Fest is a Harry Potter fanworks fest dedicated to and centered around our love for the gothic horror genre!

The inspiration to host this fest came out of our desire to see more fanworks in the fandom where the darkness within us all is celebrated, embraced, and reveled in.

This fest is hosted by The Writing Heirs of Slytherin Discord Server.

Important Links

AO3 Collection

Official Fest Spotify Playlist

Official Fest Mood Board

Discord Server

[aggsh-shs]

Need You

this is the first fanfic i’m putting on tumblr, it is Nsfw, read at your own risk

pairing: aziraphale x crowley

plot: Az helps crowley get off in the bookshop

warning: contains swearing, SMUT, and overstim

requests for fics are open as i am on winter break and bored

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley decided he rather liked sitting on Aziraphale’s lap.

The press of their bodies was nearly intoxicating, and the feeling of the angel breathing against him was grounding. Calming almost. 

His head was placed snugly in the crook between Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder, with the demon pressing kisses along the exposed skin. Every now and then he would draw a sharp inhale from his lover, maybe a whimper if he was lucky. The only other sound was the soft turning of pages.

They’d been like this for an hour, Crowley curled up in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel was catching up on some reading, and Crowley was too needy to be on his own.

Now he was getting restless, rolling his hips every so often. He liked to tease, and was hoping to receive some attention.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice was unwavering, and a hand came up to tangle in his hair, “you’re moving.”

“‘s that a problem angel?” Crowley shifted his hips again, fighting back a grin when he felt Aziraphale’s hard-on rub against his clit, “Am I distracting you?”

Aziraphale set his book on the small table next to them, then took his glasses off.

“Yes you are,” the angel paused, “but you look so desperate.” He cupped the other’s face, brushing his red hair back. He smiled kissing Crowley’s head, “I’ll take care of you first, but once you’re done I really must finish this book-“

Crowley cut him off with a kiss, he was so horny he couldn’t think straight (not that he ever could). He rolled his hips again, earning soft gasps from Aziraphale.

Hands slid up his thighs, palming at him through the soft pajama pants he wore. Crowley whined softly, mostly muffled by Aziraphale’s mouth on his.

Aziraphale was the first to pull away, focusing on getting Crowley undressed. He was incredibly gentle, taking each piece of clothing off and folding it before setting it down.

After an agonizing minute or two, the demons pants and underwear were on the floor, and Aziraphale was back to touching him.

“There you are,” He ran his hands over Crowleys thighs, watching as he squirmed, “Such a beautiful boy.”

Crowley whimpered, his head falling onto the angels shoulder, “Fuck. Please Zira-“

Aziraphale kissed the side of his head, before using his thumb to gently circle his clit, “How’s that my love? Feeling ok?”

Crowley sucked in a sharp breath, nodding and trying to thrust his hips further into the sensation. It was too much, and not enough at the same time.

“There we go, such a good boy,”

Aziraphale held his hips, keeping Crowley where he was, “I’ve got you.”

The angel smiled as he felt his partner clenching, then whining when he felt empty.

“I need- fuck- need to feel you,” Crowley breathed heavily, hands scrambling for something to hold on to.

“You are feeling me darling,” Aziraphale smiled, combing through his hair with his free hand, “I’m still touching you.”

“wanna be full,” Crowley was still rocking his hips into Aziraphale’s touch, and he was starting to get close, “please-“

And who was the angel to deny his lover such a request?

He smiled and took one of Crowleys hands off the arm of the chair, guiding it down to touch himself.

Crowley whined in protest, but Aziraphale shushed him, “It’s ok love, I’m staying right here. Not gonna stop touching you.”

He moved his hand down to Crowleys vulva, gently pushing in one finger. He probably could have fit two with how wet he was, but he didn’t want to risk it.

Crowley sighed in relief, starting to circle his clit with his own fingers this time.

“Good boy, I’ve got you,” Aziraphale added a second finger, making his lover keen and shudder.

Crowley was so tense around him, Aziraphale knew it wasn’t long before he would come. He watched as his movements became more motivated, more needy.

“Az-“ It was the first full word Crowley had said in minutes, “Fuck, Az.”

Aziraphale kissed his head, holding him closer still, “I know, it’s ok Crowley. I’ve got you. You’ve been such a good boy for me, I’m so proud of you.”

That was all it took to have him shaking, his whole body practically folding over as he came undone. Crowley sobbed, not stopping even after the aftershocks had worked their way through him.

Aziraphale kept his fingers inside, starting to rub them against Crowleys G-spot.

“Look at you,” Aziraphale cupped his cheek, wiping away the sweat and tears. Crowley still didn’t stop touching himself, “You’re so beautiful, think you can come again? What will it take my love?”

Crowley let out a choked whine, trying to gather his thoughts well enough to articulate them, “Praise, need to be talked through it.”

Aziraphale nodded, rubbing Crowleys back with his free hand.

“Such a beautiful boy, look at you, so perfect for me,” He sighed, kissing the demons cheek, “go ahead and touch yourself, rub your fingers along your clit. It’s ok, just come when you’re ready.”

Crowley’s breath hitched, and he was trembling slightly. He couldn’t say it didn’t feel good, but it also hurt a bit. Just over sensitive was all.

Aziraphale saw this, and kissed his head, “I’m here, you can stop if it hurts too much honey.”

Crowley shook his head, closing his eyes, “ngk- feels good-“

He came again soon after, this time  pulling his hand away and laying right back on Aziraphale’s chest.

The angel miracled Crowley’s clothes back on, returning to his book as he brushed through the demons hair.

“Good boy, get some rest for me.”

“mhm..”

[amnesiaskulls]

introduction post ig

hello tumblr

My name is amnesia! I use she/they pronouns but I don’t really care if you use one more then the other

I’m aroace and a minor, so please dont do anything weird (dont in general) im uncomfortable with any sort of jokes like that unless you are one of my close friends, and only one of them has tumblr, so you (yes you!) are NOT included in the group that are able to make jokes directed at me about sexual things, and especially butt jokes or making weird comments about my art.

PLEASE DO NOT DM ME UNLESS WE ARE MUTUALS! I HATE TALKING TO PEOPLE I DONT KNOW BUT IF MY ASKS ARE OPEN PLEASE ASK AWAY!! DO NOT TRACE, REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS, OR STEAL MY ART. Reblogging is fine because i love it when you do that (please reblog!) but DO NOT USE MY ART IN ANY OTHER WAY WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

now that those boundaries are out of the way, more about me!

I am an artist and I love to draw anything on my mind atm, but I usually only post finished pieces to my tumblr page!

some things im interested in right now are

Mystreet/mcd (more mystreet) because i watched it when it came out and it has a huge nostalgia factor for me, and i love headcannoning them!

mcsm- mostly casual, kinda fades in and out, not as ravaging on my brain as the aphverse

SPLATOON!! I love splatoon sm! I became a fan at 3’s release and im so sad final fest is soon but also so excited!

Anything after this is mostly rant stuff and headcannons so read at your own risk ig?

My favorite characters are aplenty so they get their own area

Laurance Zvahl, Garroth Ro’meave, Katelyn, Lukas, FRYE AND PEARL RAGGH!!, Artificer rainworld, Lolbit fnaf, and oh so many more because “i love exploring humans complex emotions!” -slmccl

Ships! I care a lot about how they interact but because of my stupid little ace mind (mine specifically, I know many ace people that don’t struggle with this) I suck at like thinking about kissing because I hate the notion of kissing unless its a joke or important

Garrance, Melcinda, Zana, Danvis(mostly platonic), Travlyn, gay Jesskas, lesbian petra x jessie, pearlina, artihunter(mostly crack but i love doomed yuri sm) (thats one thing about me is i love doomed ships or thinking about ships like laurgene as exes because it lets me add more anger and other feeling to my headcannons)(like garrance mdc “in another universe” because they just dont go as well together in mcd as myst)

This has become kind of a rant but this is my blog and I do whatever I want so whatever

Music I like!

I have a very vast music taste other then most country, and can listen to most songs! Some artists I enjoy are:

Will Wood (plus tapeworms), Kiltro, Old glass animals like zaba and most of htbahb, the crane wives, fiabc, IDKHOW, and a lot others!

okay thats enough info for a stranger on the internet, have a wonderful day!

[nightingale-fic-recs]

By the Grace Of [Sorcerer Rogier x Fem!Tarnished] - Chapter Four

Summary: Delia finds an opportunity to get some answers, and to get some rest. She also gets a warning she’s not like to forget.

Author’s Notes: 900 words this time. Hell yeah. Lots more game dialogue this time, as Delia gets educated. This chapter features a notorious set of lines about “long before” and “soon” (iykyk). Honestly, I don’t find it to be as contradictory as most people do, but I added three words that I feel give the timeline clarity.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Elden Ring

Warnings: none? Unedited (basically), unfinished story- read at your own risk!

“The misshapen corpse under Stormveil?”

He stared at her.

Not at her- through her. She worried that she might have overstepped. That he might not answer.

“That is a sacred relic,” he began slowly. “Of the black knives plot. As that famed night of assassination is known. It happened during the Golden Age of the Erdtree, long before the shattering of the Elden Ring. Someone stole a fragment of the Rune of Death from Maliketh, the Black Blade. And on a bitter night some time later, murdered Godwyn the Golden.”

Delia sucked in a sharp breath. “Marika’s favorite child?”

Rogier nodded. “That was the first recorded death of a demigod in all history.”

“Marika must have been out of her mind with grief,” murmured Delia. Rogier was watching her with an interesting expression. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“She was. Though most don’t seem to consider that.”

Delia shrugged. “It’s a horrible thing.”

“Indeed it was. And it became the catalyst. Soon, in Marika’s grief, the Elden Ring was smashed. And thus sprang forth the war known as the Shattering.”

“The war in which the rest of Marika’s children fought over the pieces? Of the Elden Ring?”

Rogier offered a tiny smile. “You’re a quick study.”

“You’re a good teacher,” returned Delia. She smiled when his face flushed. “How do you know all this?”

“I once wished to become a scholar, you see. I've spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot.” He reached for her, taking her hand in his. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “The world has grown crooked, and if you intend to put it to rights, you'd better understand what happened to make it this way, mm?”

She thought of D’s words to her when they’d met again in the Hold.

“I serve the Golden Order. That I might put this crooked land to rights.”

“And… that thing is to blame for the shape I'm in now…” Rogier was staring at their joined hands, a pained expression on his handsome face. Delia squeezed.

“Are you acquainted with a man named Rogier? You know, the piteous fellow hiding away on the balcony. He was a formidable spellblade, in times past. Don’t let his easy air deceive you. He was wise beyond his years, stout of heart and clear of mind.”

He looked up, a mad urgency in his eyes as he leaned toward her. He pulled her forward, over his covered legs, clutching her hands at his chest. “I urge the utmost caution. Don't disturb the corpse more than necessary…”

“No more, though. You see him now, ravaged by thorns, muttering and rambling… like he’s half dead already. I can’t stomach to watch. Take well the lesson, friend. That’ s how you end up, when seduced by Those Who Live in Death. When grace is sullied, it rots people from the inside. Breaks them.”

She could feel the roots writhing- beneath fabric or flesh, she couldn’t tell. Carefully, she leaned forward to rest her head on the sorcerer’s chest.

Rogier’s heart thundered beneath her ear. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

There was a long silence that followed. Rogier let one hand release hers, haltingly resting it on her shoulder blades.

Delia pressed closer, curling into his touch. If she’d ever been touched kindly, in her life Before, she didn’t remember it. She let her eyes drift shut, determined to take whatever he was willing to offer.

Under Rogier’s soft touch, the weight of the last weeks piled down. She felt herself tugged downward, deeper toward sleep.

He cleared his throat, startling her from her doze. “Thank you. You… have no reason to show me these kindnesses.” She leaned back to look at him. He released her, hand and shoulder, as though scalded. Some indecipherable look flitted over his features, and then he scowled. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Delia,” she said. She watched as he mouthed it to himself, as though testing the shape of it on his tongue.

“Thank you, Delia. For all of this.” He gestured to the collection of trinkets she’d brought. “You are too kind by half. I… I don’t know if I can repay you.” He seemed discomfited by the admission. That gave her the courage to capitalize on the brash idea she hadn’t been willing to entertain.

“You can,” she said quickly. She pulled herself up, reaching behind her. She pulled forward the blanket she’d brought. “You can keep watch while I sleep.”

Rogier’s eyebrows lifted. “I assure you that it’s quite safe here-”

“Please,” Delia interrupted. She realized she was wringing the blanket between her fingers when his expression softened. “It would make me feel better.”

He held his breath for what seemed an age, and then gave one short nod. “Very well, then. Will you be comfortable? There are beds, elsewhere in the Hold…”

Delia shook her head. She clambered onto the bench beside him and lay, gently lowering her head to rest on his hip, careful not to press on any roots. “Here’s fine,” she said softly.

Rogier’s arm hovered over her until she took hold of it, pulling it down to rest on her shoulder so she could clasp his hand in hers.

She couldn’t be sure whether her mind made it up, but she thought she felt him tighten his hold as she slipped into dreams.

[thewatcher727]

Sonic X: Gotta Go Fast Again - Chapter 15: High Stakes

Sonic X: Gotta Go Fast again is a thrilling continuation of the beloved anime, promising action-packed escapades and heartwarming moments as our heroes embark on their next chapter! Available for Reading on AO3 & FF!

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14344080/15/Sonic-X-Gotta-Go-Fast-Again

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54991219/chapters/145874614

Preview:

Casino Park was the ultimate destination for those seeking to test their luck and fortune. The entire complex was housed under one massive, glittering roof, creating a world unto itself where day and night blurred into a continuous stream of excitement and chance.

The constant chiming of slot machines provided a relentless backdrop to the cacophony of voices - shouts of triumph, groans of defeat, and the ever-present murmur of hope that permeated every corner of the casino.

Roulette wheels spun in hypnotic circles, their polished surfaces reflecting the myriad of lights that danced across the ceiling. Nearby, enormous dice platforms rotated slowly, their massive cubes tumbling with each turn, sending ripples of excitement through the crowds gathered around them.

The floor itself was a work of art, tiled to resemble an enormous blackjack table. Patrons moved across it like living game pieces, their steps unconsciously following the patterns beneath their feet. Pinball tables of every size and theme lined the walls, their flashing lights and ringing bells adding to the sensory overload that defined Casino Park.

Amidst this sea of games and gamblers, Vector the Crocodile stood at a roulette table, his eyes gleaming with the fevered excitement of a true believer in luck. With a grand gesture, he pushed his stack of chips forward, the plastic discs clacking against each other as they slid across the felt-covered table.

"All in!" Vector declared. His toothy grin was wide with confidence, seemingly oblivious to the risks of his bold move.

Espio, ever the voice of reason, slid up beside his boss. The chameleon's keen eyes scanned the layout of Vector's bet, a look of concern crossing his usually stoic features. "You betted on red and black? Vector, that cancels out your bet."

Vector turned to his companion, his chest puffing out with pride. "Exactly! It means I can't lose either!" The crocodile's logic, or lack thereof, hung in the air between them, as flawed as it was earnest.

Espio opened his mouth to explain the flaw in Vector's reasoning. "Not unless it lands on-"

"Zero!" The croupier's announcement cut through their conversation like a knife.

Vector's excited expression dropped, his jaw going slack with horror as the reality of the situation sank in. The ball had indeed landed on zero, the green pocket seeming to mock him with its presence. The crocodile's earlier bravado evaporated in an instant, replaced by the crushing realization that his clever plan had backfired spectacularly.

The croupier's rake moved across the table, sweeping away Vector's chips with a finality that echoed the crocodile's sinking spirits. The lights of the casino, which had seemed so inviting and promising just moments ago, now felt harsh and unforgiving, highlighting the look of dismay on Vector's face.

Espio, to his credit, refrained from saying "I told you so."