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goodgirlofglory · 3 years

Text

That which lingered on his mind / Chapter 1

Prologue - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+, Non-con, dub-con, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, smut, Graphic descriptions of violence, bondage (bound wrists), oral (f receiving), asphyxiation (choking), Cumplay, Some graphic descriptions of blood.

Chapter summary: Steve Rogers, Captain America and your former neighbor, used to harbour some secret feelings for you before he was turned into a Hydra asset. Now he’s come back to claim what he cannot rid himself of: his desire for you.

Author’s note: This one came to me a dark January night and hasn’t let me go since. This series will be about 7-8 chapters, so stay tuned! Not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. My work is not to be distributed anywhere but my blog. Reblogs are welcome, though. And I so appreciate reading your replies and tags<3 hope you enjoy ;)

It started out as any other night. You had a cup of tea and scrolled through your phone for a while before a violent yawn told you it was time for bed.

It was a normal night.

Until you stood face to face with Captain America. Or at least, who you thought was Captain America. America’s hero and your former neighbor.

You had never really paid any attention to news about the Avengers or Mr. Rogers, and had never been one to socialize with neighbors. He lived across the hall from you and was quiet and polite, never drawing more attention to himself other than a smile and a curt greeting now and then.

That was until he disappeared off the grid about four months ago. It was all the news could talk about for a good three weeks. Gossip in the building also started flourishing. Where had he gone? What happened? Was he dead?

Apparently not, for there he stood, silent as the grave, inside your apartment, half shrouded in darkness, blocking your way to the bedroom.

You didn’t really know what his uniform used to look like either, but from what you could remember he used to have a star on his chest, and not the squid looking emblem he now bore. His face was also an unusual sight, jaw covered in a gruff beard, hair long and pushed back. But worse were the eyes; steely, cold and intent on you.

Had it only been good ol’ Captain America standing uninvited in your home you would have been scared. But this. This chilled you to the bone.

What the fuck was going on?

Your body froze as you stared at the man, who made no effort to speak nor move. Finally you found your voice.

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Please leave before I call the police.”

You tried to sound tough, but your voice shook slightly at the last word. He must have picked up on that, for his otherwise dead eyes gained a slight glimmer.

“Please do. Their deaths will be on your shoulders.”

A small gasp caught in your throat. You were starting to become terrified. This was absolutely not the Captain America you had seen on the news nor the Steve Rogers you had greeted in the hallway.

“Actually, don’t bother, you’ll never reach your phone,” he continued, sounding far too nonchalant for the ominous aura he was putting off.

Your eyes widened when you remembered leaving your phone on the living room table, all the way across the room behind you.

What should you do? Run for it anyways? Scream for help? You opted for a seemingly less provoking approach.

“What do you want?” you asked, tears starting to involuntarily form at the corners of your eyes.

His eyes seemed to darken somehow, setting themselves on you with deadly weight, piercing your soul.

“You.”

Your fight reflex kicked in before you could think, and you lunged for the front door across the living room behind you.

But you barely got a few steps in before a thick arm snaked around your waist and janked you back to hit painfully against a hard, unrelenting body. You managed to shriek in fear before a second hand, big enough to cover both your mouth and nose slammed down on your face and muffled your cries, knocking your lips against your teeth. You tasted blood.

You kicked, hit and scratched at your assailant's body, but gained only a mocking snicker in response. His mouth came down to whisper in your ear, sending ice cold shivers down your spine.

“Please, keep fighting, it only makes this more enjoyable.”

You sobbed into his coarse hand, tears springing free from your eyes, wetting the skin of his fingers.

He tsked

“Cuing the waterworks. He wouldn’t like that,” he breathed into your ears and tightened his grip on your face, effectively cutting off your air supply. You squirmed against his arms in panic, new tears falling, not managing to move him even an inch. His grip remained as tight as iron.

As your vision blurred and you slipped into dark unconsciousness, you kept wondering what he meant by “he”.

You awoke groggily, feeling the muscles in your arms ache as they lay over your head. You usually woke up with your arms thrown over your head, so it took a few seconds to remember what had happened.

When you did, your body surged upwards, but was promptly janked back against the bed. Looking up, you registered for the first time that both of your wrists were bound to the bedpost above your head, using the bondage ropes you had gotten as a joke a few years back. Looking down you saw that you were still fully clothed, with your oversized UNI t-shirt and cotton shorts.

The knot looked intricate and a few janks told you it was secure as well.

Your breathing started to race as you understood you were stuck, and a cry ripped itself from your lungs at the realization.

“Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm voice came from across the room.

“HELP,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, ignoring the man who sat in the chair in the corner. It felt good to defy him, if only for a split second.

He made no indication that your behaviour bothered him, his stare as even as ever.

“I will kill anyone who enters this apartment,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to endanger any of your good neighbors' lives. That’s not who he perceived you to be. I, on the other hand, have no problem killing everyone in this building if it helps you understand what is happening here.”

“And what the fuck is happening here exactly?” you snarled, still janking at the knot around your wrists, bound just a little too tightly.

He smirked at that.

“Feisty, just like I hoped. It’s more...fun if I can break you first,” he mused.

He got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. When he got close enough you kicked out at him, and you would have hit him right in the gut if he hadn’t caught your foot. Not that it would affect him, you bitterly thought after.

He looked almost amused before twisting your foot around until you shrieked in pain.

“Oh,” he cooed, “remember to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to come checking in on you, would we?”

He let go of your foot, and you recoiled in the pain that shot up through your body. A sob escaped your gritted teeth.

He snickered.

“Pathetic. But I do see the appeal.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your jaw in a harsh grip, making you look him in the eyes as he leaned in so close his breath brushed across your face. There was a slight hint of mint to it.

“What's happening here, sweetheart, is that I’m gonna get some things out of my system.”

His hand let go of your jaw and moved down to slightly encircle your throat, lingering like a taunting threat. Your throat constricted instinctively at the presence of his calloused hand. A smirk played at his lips as you squirmed under his light touch.

“I’m going to fuck you, Y/N”.

You thrashed at that, nausea setting in your stomach, your skin prickling as the words landed.

“No, no, no, please,” you started to mumble in your panicked state, janking more desperately on the knot around your bound wrists.

“Oh yes, and the more you fight, the worse it’ll be for you,” Steve smirked as he moved around the back of the bed and started to climb onto it, grabbing your kicking feet with ease, straddling your thighs.

Helpless to stop it, you watched as he took a fistful of your shirt in both his hands and ripped the fabric open, split down the middle, exposing your stomach and chest underneath. In the chilly night air your nipples hardened and goosebumps spread across your skin.

You saw the feral expression that grew behind his eyes.

He only hummed in response to your desperate whine, before letting a hand flitter up your hip.

His fingers stroked lightly up your torso, following every dent and bump, and you shivered at how soft it was in contrast to his earlier brutality.

Your breath hitched in your throat and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur, smugness shining in his eyes, mockery dripping from his voice..

You shut your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, tears welling in your eyes, trying to quell the impulse to scream.

You had no doubt in your mind that no one in your building could overpower the super soldier, and you were terrified he would keep his word.

You couldn’t let anyone else die.

A painful tweak of a hardened nipple brought you back to the room, and you cried out.

“Don’t disappear now, I need you present for this,” he instructed in a patient voice, almost like you were a disobedient child.

He bent down then, and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth while his hands landed on either side of your head, caging you in.

The sensation of his hot and wet mouth in contrast to the cold air of the room sent sparks flying through your body and, more horrifyingly, down between your legs. You bit your tongue out of shame, and tried to squirm away from his wanton mouth. It took only a single hand of his on your chest to effectively pin you down as he continued his ministrations on your nipple, sucking, licking and teasing with his teeth.

He radiated warmth hovering over you like that, his hand a searing presence on your skin, no doubt feeling how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage.

His smell filled your nose, musky, with hints of smoked wood and cedar, and something familiar and sweet - your own perfume. Did he go into your bathroom? Did he use your perfume on himself?

His mouth moved up your chest and to your neck, and he was so close, so overwhelming.

You squirmed slightly at his approach, but noticed that in this position, pinned under his thighs like you were, the fabric of your panties caught on your core, dragging along the awakened skin, and to your horror you could feel the slick starting to gather there. You stifled a whimper, face burning with dread and newly bloomed shame.

His beard scratched your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“There’s that smell,” he murmured with a throaty sigh, “that smell he couldn’t get out of his head”.

What was he on about? Who was “he”?

Your mind raced with questions as his tongue started to lap at your throat, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes and tried to resist, tried to fight your body’s reaction to his stimulation, but as his teeth nipped at a particularly sweet spot, your whole body shuddered involuntarily and a small gasp escaped your mouth.

His face snapped up from your neck, piercing blue eyes finding yours teary and terrified - and no doubt dilated.

He straightened after a second, and shimmied off from where he was still stradling your thighs. As soon as your legs were free, you started kicking out at him, rage and defiance surging, trying and failing to hit him in the chest as he effortlessly caught both your ankles and gathered them in one hand.

He leaned forward, face smooth and emotionless, and landed an open handed slap across your face a second later.

Your head whipped to the side, and your breath left your body for a second as your head swam, a high pitched ringing filling your ears.

You gasped in shock, your whole body going stiff as pain spread from your cheek.

You had never been hit before, and especially not that hard. Tears sprang forth from your eyes as it dawned on you how utterly fucked you were.

“Let that be a warning,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly not affected in the slightest by the violence he was so willingly dishing out.

The fight was out of you for now, and you could only breathe through the sharp pain that lingered on your face as he moved in between your thighs.

Sitting back on his haunches he started to remove the tactical suit on his torso, impatiently ripping at the fastenings as his eyes never left your face, red, swollen and wet from your tears.

You averted your gaze, disgusted by him, disgusted by yourself, desperately trying not to reveal your body’s reaction to his.

When he was completely naked from the waist up, his hands turned to your sleeping shorts, removing them with deft haste and surprising softness before leaning back again, his touch leaving your body.

Several seconds went by without any action, and your curiosity gained the better of you. Turning your eyes to him, you found him studying your body. His face was as blank as ever, but his eyes betrayed some sort of sentiment you hadn’t seen before.

“He used to dream about you,” he said after a while, seemingly more to himself.

He bent forward once he realized you were watching him, caging you in again as he hovered over you, moving closer and closer.

Face still stinging from his slap, you didn’t dare move even a muscle as his lips found yours. It started slow, but soon he grew impatient, and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot, wet and dominating, moving languidly against your own.

Breathless and reeling, a small whimper left your mouth, and the responding groan that emitted from his throat rumbled through you.

While still moving his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands reached down and you felt the distinct calloused warmth of his touch to the inside of your thigh.

A small, panicked “no” croaked out of you, but he only swallowed it eagerly, not letting up his touch as it zeroed in on your core.

You could feel his fingers touching the cotton covering you, and by the breathy laughter he huffed against your mouth, he no doubt felt how wet it was.

“Oh, doll, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest,” he mocked as he leaned back again and looked down at your ruined panties.

You tried to hide your burning face in the nook of your elbow as he ripped your panties off before bunching them up in his hand and bringing them to his face. But his eyes caught yours in a steel grip as he inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a second before a pleased sigh left his lips.

You watched as his tongue swiped at the wet patch of the fabric before he put the panties in his pocket.

You thrashed at his obscene actions, nausea burning hot in the pit of your stomach, mixing with your undeniable arousal.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

As your mind raced against the reality of the situation, Steve laid down on the bed between your legs. His mouth attacked your pussy.

A squeak escaped your mouth, hands janking at the knot around your wrists as he started devouring you, mouth moving between your clit and weeping wound with urgency, almost desperation.

A full on groan left his mouth as he lapped at the juices that were steadily leaking from you.

His hands found your breasts and started teasing your nipples, and you tried to squirm away.

You needed him to stop, you needed this assault on your senses to cease, because you could feel your resolve burning away as sweet, untainted pleasure started spreading through your body.

Steve’s tongue swept up and swirled around your clit, and you tried inching away. One of his hands gave your breast a sharp slap before tweaking your nipple painfully again. Another warning. You headed it.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, but in contrast to the last time it almost sounded like he cared.

You shook your head weakly.

He chuckled against your mound and gave your breast another slap, sending jolts of pain through your chest.

“Don’t lie,” he warned, but there was surprisingly little malice in his voice. “But nevermind. This pretty, swollen, soaked cunt tells me all I need to know,” he said almost fondly before giving your clit a few licks.

“Give in, Y/N, I can feel how much you want to,” he taunted in between licks and all you could do was lay still and take it, new tears streaking from your eyes and wetting the hair at your temples as you squeezed them shut.

He was right. You couldn’t deny the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

“I’m going to stay still now, and you move however you want,” he said then, before doing just that.

Somehow, having him stop was more torture than what he had been doing, and your stubborn pride, your better judgement and the stinging feeling of violation that burned in your chest fought against your body’s sudden need for stimulation - for his stimulation.

Something in you snapped, and you tentatively moved your hips so your clit could find his tongue, stretched out waiting for you.

You shivered.

It felt good.

You rolled your hips again, more firmly this time, and the resulting swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bud of nerves had your breath leaving your body in a shaky exhale.

His hands gave your breasts an encouraging squeeze, before resuming their attention on your nipples, and you moved your hips with more fervor.

Before long you were grinding yourself on his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs as your eyes stayed shut, losing yourself in the hot feel of his tongue.

Desperation grew as you could feel that distinct coil tighten in your abdomen, and every draw of breath fueled the build up.

Not thinking anymore, you bucked your hips on him in repeated motion, lingering on the edge of the abyss, searching for that which would make the coil snap.

A desperate whimper left your mouth and as a response, a rumbling groan from his throat vibrated right through you and you fell head first into your orgasm, entire body shuddering violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream.

He was on you as you came down, lapping up your release and groaning as you trembled at the overstimulation. He was frantically groping at your waist and hips, strong arms and hands grounding you as you floated on the aftershocks of your high.

The moment the orgasm faded from your foggy mind, it fell in on itself.

How could you let yourself give in like that?

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind trying to escape the whole thing, if only for a moment, go far far away, go numb, go blank.

You weren’t allowed more than a few seconds reprieve, however, as you faintly heard him rustling around before you felt pressure at your entrance.

Before you had time to protest, Steve pushed his cock into you, giving a pleased huff as your body squeezed instinctively, drawing him in even more.

Your eyes shot open and met his - wild and pleased.

“There she is,” he said with dark glee as he breathed hard.

You fought to draw breath as your body seared with pain of the intrusion. His girth was more than you could take. It was all you could do to handle the stretch of his cock bottoming out, pushed inside you to the hilt.

“Feel that? Feel how your willing cunt is swallowing me like that, inviting me in?”

He started to move a second later, not giving you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that sent sparks of pain up through your body.

You cried out at the agony, nails digging into your own palms.

Above you, Steve growled as he bared his teeth at you, slamming his hips against yours.

His cock was rock hard as it speared you, and he only seemed to grow harder at your pained cries.

Through the pain and your strained whimpering sounds, you faintly heard him mumble.

“- all those incessant thoughts about you….never like this….if he only fucking knew...ripe for the taking, and the bastard didn’t as much as ask you out...”

His hand seized your throat as he stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, inhaling fervently. Hitched breaths was the only thing that escaped you at this point, as he kept up his torturing pace, abusing your pussy without halt.

“- That fucking smell in the hallway...never escaping it...fuck…gonna fuck those thoughts right out...”

Was “he” Steve? Was he rambling about himself? Or at least, who he used to be?

The pain had slowly subsided as you’d listened to the man’s crazed rambling, and a deep onslaught of pleasure was starting to make itself known with each punch of Steve’s cock. Soon your body started to tremble, and you fought against the coil starting to build again.

Steve shifted his hips to run his hands down your sides, and the new angle hit the spot deep within you that made your breathless.

Your mouth opened in a complete and utter moan, and Steve’s head snapped up from your neck, something akin to surprise in his eyes as he took in your face.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” he asked, and his voice was thick with pleasure.

You tried to avert your eyes, but his hand shot up and gripped your jaw, pulling your face so close that your breaths mingled. His stare locked yours in an iron grip.

His thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips, reaching deep, so deep inside you, and a pleasured sigh left your lips to fan across his lips as he found that spot again.

“Look at you. Steve would never think of you like this - he respected you. Little did he know you were a cock hungry little masochist,” he husked, pupils deep pools of dark desire. Your cheeks burned as you clenched around him at his words.

He grunted, letting his eyes fall close for only a second, and you noticed how his long and beautiful eyelashes fanned across his cheek.

“Let’s see how much you can enjoy this, huh?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as one of his hands reached down to where his body was rutting into yours, and his thumb found your clit.

You cried out as he started an unrelenting circling of the sensitive bud, and he mouthed at your jaw as he hummed in response.

In the back of your mind a small voice was telling you to fight, to gnaw and hit and thrash until he understood that you didn’t want this. Another voice was arguing that you would only be hurt further if you fought more. There was no getting away from his intent and no overpowering him.

A louder voice was whispering that it was okay to give in. Give in to the way he felt on your skin, the way he moved in you, the way he looked at you. Give in to the pleasure.

Your orgasm washed over you like a warm wave, spasming through every muscle as they sung with exhilaration. A shuddering groan left your lips and your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cock. He growled as he crushed his lips to yours, and you opened yours willingly, moving your tongue against his in a wet and sloppy kiss.

“Good,” he praised in a groan after breaking the kiss, and to your surprise, something akin to pride bloomed deep in your chest at his praise.

You were completely lost in the pleasure now, in the drag of his cock against your trembling walls, his musky og smoky scent and those blue, lust-blown eyes piercing you.

His pace quickened again, and you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that he was closing in on his own release.

“I can feel you fluttering, doll. Listen to the sounds this pretty pussy makes. Maybe I should keep you?” he mused darkly, a small wicked grin on his lips.

For a moment terror flashed across your eyes. Keep you? In the back of your mind the pain of your still bound wrists alerted you of the implications of that notion. Your cheek was still burning hot from his earlier “warning”.

As if he read your mind, he sneered.

“Take what he never had. Continue to take what he never had. Make you mine, let you have my cock every time I want, keep this tight pussy on a leash”.

You heaved for breath as his thrusts grew frantic, and he raised himself to his haunches, hands a bruising grip on your hips as he looked down at you.

Under the dim moonlight his muscles rippled, shining in a layer of sweat, his hair disheveled and falling into his face, and those eyes, forever shaking the bones in your body.

Your name ghosted on his lips as his brows furrowed and your back arched as your third orgasm seized you by every muscle in your body, your head thrown back in a desperate, strangled whine.

“Fucking shit,” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and as your cunt pulsed around him, you drew his orgasm right out of his body.

He gave a few stuttering thrusts before stilling, thrust to the hilt inside you. Through the blood coursing in your ears you heard his snarl as he emptied himself in you.

For a moment his face completely stilled, eyebrows raised, eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly open. In that moment, you swore you recognised your former neighbor, Steve Rogers, Captain America in those features.

But in a moment he was gone, and this Steve, whoever he was, was leaning forward to crush his mouth on yours.

Still coming down from your high, you eagerly opened your mouth for him in a rather intimate kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of your face.

You almost sighed at the softness of it all when his teeth caught your bottom lip and bit hard enough to draw blood. You yelped in pain as the iron taste filled your mouth and he let you wrench your way out of the kiss, snickering as he leaned back up and licked some of your blood off his lips. His eyes were wicked as he pulled himself out of you.

The emptiness he left behind was both a relief and a disappointment, even as your lip stung. You licked at the cut, wondering just what brand of danger had forced himself into your bed.

“God, what a sight,” he murmured above you, fingers dipping down to spread your nether lips apart as his cum dribbled out of you.

Embarrassment burned your face as he looked on, perverted astonishment painting his features.

Two fingers swiped your slit, gathering both of your releases on them before bringing them up to your mouth.

When you did nothing but stare at him, he simply whispered “open”.

You obeyed, holding his gaze, and he pushed his fingers slowly into your mouth. The mix of the iron of your blood, the salt of his cum and the tangy taste of yourself made your face scrunch up, and he hummed low in his chest.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, face emotionless but for the shining sin of his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you nodded.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, approval coating his features.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep you, alright,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers down your torso.

As his fingers slowly caressed you, exhaustion drizzled over you, your vision blurred, and you fell into unconsciousness.

When you awoke, bright daylight was shining in through your window.

The soreness piercing your muscles was like nothing you had ever felt before, but the sleep had been even deeper, sitting like a pleasurable hum in your bones.

You remembered immediately what had happened in the night and was relieved to find that your wrists were no longer bound. The bruises, purple and pink, would probably last for weeks.

The ache deep in your core made your gut wrench in remembered dread, but somehow there was a feeling of anticipation there as well.

A quiet voice inside you whispered that you hoped he would stay true to his word, and come back.

Author’s note: Christ. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a blood kink brewing inside me.

Taglist:

@thedaughterofwandavision , @hellotvshowtrash

If you want to be added to the taglist, leave a note on any of my fics or send me an ask<3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x Y/N #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #dark!steve rogers x reader #captain hydra #captain hydra x reader #captain hydra x Y/N

398 notes · View notes

sevi007 · 3 years

Note

Baltheir must've seen Fran go ballistic like that once, knows that Mist can have a pretty strong effect on Veira, so this is probably isn't much of a surprise for him now. But consider, first time he saw her like that, wide eyed and feral, he's trying to calm her down cause she looks like she's scared or in pain, hugging her close until she calms down not caring about the wounds she's causing. When she comes to Fran tries to apologize but Baltheir wouldn't have any of it. 1/2

once he's done dressing his wounds, and hers, they have a long conversation about how Mist can effect a Veira so they can be better prepared next time. And Fran apologizes once more for that "ugly display" and Baltheir scoffs, "Fran, dear, you're a lot of things, but ugly? Never." She stares at him in shock for a moment before she smiles. and then, "if anything, you were even more beautiful, now that I have a chance to look back on it, you're very pretty when you're mad" she pinches him. 2/2

@rex101111 is absolutely my greatest enabler, and nobody should be surprised anymore when I take one of the prompts he gives me and just write an entire One-Shot out of it. Like I did here. In a rush.

(It is not quite what you had in mind, Rex, but I really had only so much influence over where this story went. I think the FFXII characters just possessed me halfway through and wrote this themselves. I hope you still like it as much as I liked writing it!)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fran knows it was a mistake, following Balthier’s lead. It does not matter what treasures awaited them, or how sure of their success he was; the moment he had told her their next trip would take them to the fallen city of Nabudis, she should have turned heel and walked out on him.

And yet, here she is; breathing in mist rather than air, feeling it claw at her throat and her mind, while she follows the hume man through this laid-bare bones of what was once a glorious city. Because it is Balthier who asked, and Balthier who lead the way. And Fran always, always followed his lead, ever since they had met each other. This, she knows, is a weakness.

She should have known better, than to let herself be weak. The forest taught her that. Life taught her that. Weakness means death.

The thought thrums through her, clear like a bell. It is the last clear thought she has before the burning of the mist ignites inside her, explodes in an inferno, and her head feels like it is being split in two. She thinks she screams, but she cannot be sure; the next thing she knows she is on her knees, doubling over onto all fours, and she is burning alive as the mist rages through her, her world tinging red.

With blurry eyes she watches her fingers curl together and her nails elongate, and tries to choke out a warning, but it never comes. Her head tips back and she catches a glimpse of Balthier, whirling around towards her with his eyes wide, before she opens her mouth and screams.

It is every nightmare she ever had, combined. She has feared such a moment for several reasons, and only one of them being what will he think of me, seeing me so unhinged?

The other, much more potent fear, was for his fragile hume life.

She is Viera; hers is the strength of nature, of the very forest which gave birth to her. With the mist clouding her mind, there is nothing to reign in that strength. She is a storm, an earthquake, a beast let loose. Her nails are claws slashing, her limbs like whips clashing, and her power enough to shatter stone and steel, so, so easily crush bones into dust.

And Balthier, the brave fool, takes one look at her twisted features, at her trembling body ready to pounce and rip him to shreds, and does exactly what she feared he would do: He runs towards her instead of away from her.

Fran wants to scream at him stop, you foolish boy, stop, but all which comes forth is another heart stopping howl and then Balthier is already crushing into her at full speed.

Instinct moves her; her body bucks and rears and tries to throw him off while she snarls and hisses at him. His arms come around her and he holds on with all his might. To her, it might as well be paper stripes trying to hold her back.

Not that he is trying to hold her down. It is from far away that the tiny part of Fran which is still her, which can still think, notices this. He is not holding onto her arms, trying to contain her. He simply cradles her protectively wit no care for his own wellbeing. As if her claws are not at present tearing into his shoulders, cutting through cloth and skin alike. And he is talking; a low, gentle murmur which should have gotten lost in her own thunderous roars but somehow rings louder still in her ears.

“… this why you did not want to come here? Forgive me, Fran. I should have listened to you.”

Perhaps it is the proximity to him. Perhaps the surprise of him being the one apologizing filters through. Whatever it is, her mind clears, if only a little, even while her body is still wildly out of her control. The rush of blood in her ears takes second place to the horrible sound of cloth tearing, skin ripping, and her own monstrous roars.

And over it all, Balthier’s voice, right there. “I will listen better from now on, I promise on the Strahl I will. You won’t have to endure this ever again.”

The hand which finds her cheek, thumb stroking infinitely gentle and too close to her sharp teeth, is a glaring contrast to her own vicious movements. Even in her rage, her body stiffens in surprise at the perplexing kindness of the gesture.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Fran. But right now, I need you to come back, you hear me?” The arms around her tighten as if trying to hold her together. “I know you are still in there, Fran. I know you can come back. Come back, please.”

Please.

It is that little word, the tremor of it, which stills her completely then. Fran is still breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, a mutinous growl rumbling in her chest. Yet she is no longer lashing out against the hume in her arms, her claws lying uselessly against his torn shoulders.

There is two equally strong urges fighting inside her - to destroy, and to protect.

Hurts. Pain. Lash out, her body burning under the mist thrums. The warm body pressed against hers is a nuisance. A danger, in her state. An enemy. Rip. Tear. Crush.

No. No. This is not an enemy. Fran clings to the blurry thought, as viciously as her inner beast, refuses to let it go again. This is no stranger. This is not any hume. This is the boy turned man who had taken one look at her and decided to reach out and give her a place to stay. This is her friend and partner who always has her back, no questions asked. This is Balthier.

Her Balthier. Who would hold onto the beast she had become to comfort it rather than cut it down in self-defense.

He has seen me, and he has not ran from me.

I will nothurt him.

She howls once more, but this time there is another sound wrenched in between; a sob. A mixture of fear and relief. It is like a rain drop onto a wildfire, but it is a start. It repeats itself, again and again. Her hands loosen, relax into something more natural once more. She drops in Balthier’s arms, slumps over like a puppet with its strings cut loose. She does not even notice when the world tilts around her and her back meets the ground.

The last thing she sees is Balthier’s face above her, pale and horribly young, mouth moving silently; or can she simply not hear him? His eyes look red, she thinks and moves to reach out and do something about it – but her body feels far, far away. Her arm simply will not do as she wants.

She cannot even worry about it before darkness takes over her senses and she knows nothing anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ XII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am quite sure a potion would have done the trick just as well-…”

“Be quiet, Balthier.”

He tries, for her sake. Even from behind, Fran can see him try valiantly to bite back the words, jaw working, before he does finish just like she expected, “You should save your energy.”

They have been going back and forth on this for a while now, so Fran decides it is best to let it be and simply do her work. In the silence, she focuses on drawing the tiniest bit of mist from the air and spin it into the most potent Cure she is capable of at present.

Fran understands his worries, she does. After all, she had needed to be carried back all the way to the Strahl after her breakdown and even then it had taken several hours before she had come back to consciousness once more. She knows he caresand that that is why they had nearly started wrestling with each other when she had tried to get up at first, and once more when she had started to tear at his shirt to try and assess the damage shehad done to him while he protested and tried to wave it off as nothing.

Fran knows all that. But as is usual with them, Balthieralso understand that she needs to do this without needing to hear it, and so he lets her, despite his grumbled protests and all his eye-rolls. It is for her peace of mind that she spins the magic and pours it into his body. Each bit of skin which knots back together and smooths out is a tiny piece of her own heart healed, a weight lifted of her shoulders as she watches her sins be wiped away slowly.

Once she is done, her hand hover uselessly over Balthier’s back for a moment, torn between reaching out and touching the skin there. As if to make sure it really is healed and hides no further injuries.

Injuries I caused.

“All done?” Balthier’s voice startles her. Humming in answer, she watches when he pushes to his feet and stretches his arms over his head with a relieved sigh. “Ah yes, so much better. Remind me to ask you for white magick lessons again. We save a fortune on potions that way.”

“I will.” Her gaze follows him while he moves about, checking the range of his motions, shooting her a distracted smile as he does. She means it; it will do him good to know healing magic himself, should she not be around… or lose herself once more.

“Thank you. Now. How does it look?”

At the prompt, Fran instinctively finds her gaze rack one more time over his bare skin, counting blemishes which are not there anymore. A few shadows remain; places where a Curaga would have done more than a mere Cure. But those were mere bruises, and a lot less than pains Balthier was more than used to.

Still the knowledge of the source of these shades sits as a knot in her belly, and she clenches her traitorous fists tightly.

A throat being cleared snaps her out of it. When her gaze meets Balthier’s, his eyes are dancing with laughter. “My dear, you are welcome to look all you want of course, but I was talking about my shirt.”

Despite herself, Fran feels her eyes crinkle with her own smile. Somehow he had always had the ability to make her smile once more, no matter what. With only a little derisive snort at his peacocking – he never grew out of that one, did he – she holds up the stripes held together by mere thread, lets the remains of the shirt dangle from her fingers. “Beyond all rescue.”

Balthier pulls a disgruntled face as if, somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to him all day, and sighs deeply and dramatically. “A shame. That was my best one.”

The knot in her belly tightens once more, but before it can get too much, Balthier already keeps talking with a flourish of his hand. “Well. Once we’re both well-rested again, it seems to be time for another shopping trip. What would you say if you charter the course after getting a good night’s sleep? I will follow your lead.”

Fran blinks, and feels her ears swivel forward, as if she has somehow misheard him. “… me?”

“Why, yes,” Balthier is already up to his shoulders in the closet he has pilfered as his wardrobe and his voice is muffled, but she can hear his amusement clear as day anyway. “Who else should I ask? Bless his heart, but I would not trust Nono to steer us right. He understands the Strahlwell enough, but reading a map, well…”

“Why not pick a course yourself?” Fran interrupts him without thinking, still baffled. This is unpreceded; it has always been Balthier who led, and she who followed. A role-reversal feels much more significant than Balthier is trying to make this seem. After all… “Are you not the leading man in your story?”

“Our story, Fran. Ours.”

Balthier is busy pulling on a new shirt – of much lesser quality than its predecessor– over his head once he resurfaces and thus Fran has an unobserved moment to school her features and make sense of this grand declaration, handed to her so casually.

She barely manages to get a grip before Balthier smooths down the cloth and runs both hands through his unruly hair to tame it. He is still not looking at her when he continues, voice suspiciously light and casual.

“I had time to think.” While you were unconscioushe does not say but it rings loudly between them. “I might be a master thief and an even better pilot, that much is true, but I do not seem to have a knack for picking the our next destination. So I will leave that honor to you, and no one else.”

He turns, then, and whatever astonishment she has not gotten under control must show plain as day, for his smile spreads easily over his entire face, chasing away first hints of apprehension there. He has the gal to wink, this man, eyes bright. “Every good sky pirate needs a good navigator, after all.”

Something settles in Fran’s chest then, and suddenly, she understands. Understands that this is not only him apologizing again, but also a sign of trust. A reassurance that whatever happened today has not shaken his faith in her.

Fran is not prone to great outbursts of emotions. No Viera is. And yet. Once the real meaning of this gift Balthier is handing her with a boyish smile truly sinks in, she finds herself looking down at the torn shirt in her hands, blinking rapidly and struggling to keep her breath even.

The decision is a laughably easy one. Once she feels more in control again, she does not hesitate to push the shreds of cloth aside as far as possible and looks up at her friend. “No need to charter a course. Let us head for Nalbina next.”

Surprise flickers in Balthier’s features before he is already smirking again, head tilting. “To restock, I assume?”

Fran smirks right back, gestures at him; at the shirt with the too short cuffs and yellowing from age. “To get you something proper to wear.”

His crooked smile blooms into real delight and he throws his head back in a startled, happy full belly laugh, just like she had hoped he would. The sound fills the room and unravels the knot inside her completely, and she finds herself smiling at him much less smug, much gentler than she had wanted to.

“Why, Fran, don’t tell me you don’t like what you see!”

“Not particularly. Once you look into a mirror you will agree with me.”

“Ouch. You do know how to pick your words,” Balthier presses a hand to his chest, his eyes still laughing even while he has quieted down to mere chuckles. “But fine, as the lady wishes. Nalbina it is. Now?”

“Nothing is holding us here,” Fran points out. Knows that he will hear what really means. Let us not stay here any longer.

Sure enough, his expression turns serious ever so briefly before he smooths over it once more and dips low in a bow, hand outstretched. “Shall we, then?”

“We shall.”

Reaching out for him is easy. It always is. This time, Fran takes a tiny moment longer to admire her long-fingered hand in his shorter one. Hers is so very different from his. So very dangerous. Now, he knows that all too well.

And still, he does not hesitate to take it, hold it gently, and draw her to her feet so they are eye to eye once more.

He really is a marvel, this Balthier.

She is smiling with her entire face when she teases, “Choosing our course… Will that not make me the leading woman, then?”

“Please, Fran.” There is too much fond warmth there to make it sound like a reprimand, and they both know it.

She laughs, and says nothing about it anymore. It is simply not necessary. They both know that between them, there is no leader, and no follower.

There is only them, together, moving in tandem wherever they went.

And Fran would not want it any other way.

#balthier #fran #ffxii #fanfic #my writing #final fantasy xii #ff12

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Sweet Little Mango

Rewrite

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2

Smut

“I want you to spend my next heat with me.” Steve didn’t look at Billy at all when he said it, nervously playing with a loose thread on the bottom of his t-shirt, two darkening patches blossoming high on his cheeks. His voice was a good attempt and pained casualty and his shoulders were closing up around his ears.

They were sitting in Steve’s front room, Steve pressed against the opposite armrest of the couch to Billy, looking like he was doing his best to shrink into nothing rather than hear Billy’s response.

“Are, are you sure?” Billy knew Steve had never spent his heat with an alpha. He knew pretty much everything about his Steve now. “It’s intense. Like, really intense. You have no control over yourself.” What he was really asking went unsaid.

Do you trust me enough for this? To take care of you?

Something cringed in Steve’s gut as he thought of another omega spending their heat with Billy.

“Yeah, I know how heats work. I’ve had them.”

Billy huffed at Steve’s defense and bratty tone, reaching out to pinch Steve’s side. Hoping to lighten the tension racking up Steve’s spine.

“I meant with an alpha, numbnuts.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, finally looking up to meet Billy’s eyes across the couch, squirming slightly in his seat.

“Bill, if you’re not up to it, that’s fine. I know it’s like, a lot.” He sounded defeated, but his eyes were big and betrayed how much he wanted this. How much he was wrestling with himself not to beg and plead for Billy to take care of him during his most vulnerable time.

Billy reached out, pulling Steve across the couch to bring him onto his lap, not letting Steve shy away from this conversation like he obviously wants to.

“I just wanna make sure you’re ready. That I’m the one you want for this.”

Steve shifted, turning to face Billy better. He pushed Billy’s hair off his forehead, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He studied Billy’s face for a moment, his eyes drifting along the freckles splashed on Billy’s nose, following the harsh line of his jaw. He was killing time. Trying to read Billy to see if this was all Billy worming his way out of doing this with Steve. Doing this for Steve.

“You’re the only one I want for this. I’m a big boy. I can think for myself, you know.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Billy wrapped his arms around his waist, absolutely loving the way Steve melted into his chest, his arms coming up to drape over Billy’s shoulders. “Just want you to be sure.”

“I’m so sure. Want you.” Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips to Billy’s neck. “Want your knot.”

Billy groaned.

Steve’s words went straight to his gut, lighting a fire inside him. Steve could feel the rumble of the noise deep in Billy’s chest. It was fucking hot. He was already starting to get a little slick between his legs.

“We should talk first. Set boundaries and get shit established while you still have your functional brain.”

Steve hummed, still planting hot, wet, kisses to his neck.

“Or we could go for a practice round.”

Billy made a desperate noise in the back of his throat, his grip on Steve’s hips tightening just that much.

And before Steve knew what was happening, Billy had swung them around, Steve pinned underneath Billy on the couch.

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

Billy nearly growled when he opened Steve’s front door a few days later.

The house was bursting with Steve’s smell.

Hot, sticky, honey lavender, all issuing from upstairs and making Billy go something close to feral.

It made Billy rock hard in his jeans.

Steve hadn’t been in school that day. Each of his teachers was given a notice from the front office at the beginning of the day.

Steven Harrington is excused for the week due to: heat.

Billy climbed the stairs, taking in lungfuls of the sweet smell. He wanted to bathe himself in it. To bask in the heady scent and never smell anything but this ever again in his life.

Billy dropped his overnight bag just inside Steve’s bedroom near the open door.

His mouth was watering as he looked at Steve.

Steve was completely naked, laying in the center of his big bed, curled up in a nest of soft pillows. He was sweaty, and whining, grinding slowly on the pillow shoved between his legs.

It was like looking at a beautiful painting. The most erotic piece of art he’s ever seen in his life.

The pillow between Steve’s legs was soaking wet as he desperately writhed against it, moaning and panting and begging.

Billy hardly even registered getting undressed. All he knew was that his eyes refused to leave Steve’s perfect body as he kicked off his jeans. He knew Steve’s skin was probably sensitive, and the rough feeling of denim brushing against him might irritate his skin to the point of being painful.

Billy climbed onto the bed, pushing one hand up Steve’s soft hip, rubbing gently up and down his side.

“Alpha?” Steve whined, his voice high and breathy, his hips stuttering in their desperate pace against the pillow.

“Yeah, Sugar. I’m here.”

Steve’s hips snapped, and his back arched, and Billy’s eyes went all kindsa dark as he realized Steve just fucking came from rubbing off against a pillow.

Steve rolled onto his back, looking up at Billy with hazy eyes.

And he chirped.

Billy swung himself on top of Steve, parting his shaking legs to settle between them, picking up the soaked pillow like it was something precious. It was covered in his slick and smelled like the sweetest sugar Billy had ever encountered, stinging his nostrils and making his mouth fucking water. He brought it close enough to his face to get nothing but that scent. Steve’s desperation apparent, even through his slick.

Billy took another deep lungful of the pillow before tossing it over his shoulder.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this pent up and hard before, and all he wanted was to shove his rigid cock into that sweet smell and never take it out.

Billy leaned over Steve, pressing their bodies close, and began to softly mouth over Steve’s jaw.

And he let himself purr. Let the sound reverberate from deep in his chest, pressing his teeth against Steve’s neck in a tiny hint of what could be.

Steve melted.

He bucked his hips against Billy’s, pawing at his chest.

“Alpha, I, I want you .”

Billy’s never heard Steve sound like this. All needy and small and ready to beg. It all went right to his dick.

“You got me, Baby.”

“Want your knot .”

Billy leaned forward to latch onto Steve’s neck, sucking a dark bruise onto his skin, grinding their hips together, feeling the sticky wetness between Steve’s thick thighs.

He peppered kisses and even more bites onto his body, leading himself down. He focused briefly on Steve’s nipples, lapping over them until Steve was whimpering. Steve had told him his whole chest became extra sensitive during a heat, and Billy didn’t want to waste the opportunity to make a mess out of Steve.

He moved even lower, dragging his tongue all over Steve’s flat stomach, scraping his teeth over his hip bones.

He sucked bruises onto his inner thighs that matched the nasty ones on his neck, marking Steve all over.

Steve was incoherent, mewling and making these breathy little gasps, his fingers shaking slightly as they curled into Billy’s hair, holding on while Billy took him apart.

“Please,” Steve breathed, tugging just once on Billy’s hair.

Billy relented, licking up Steve’s thigh.

He sucked on Steve’s little cock, flicking his tongue against the sensitive tip of it. Steve was breathing heavily, one hand trailing out of Billy’s hair and skimming over his shoulder, searching for Billy’s hand.

It was cute.

Steve wanted to hold his hand.

Billy linked their fingers together, stroking his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand.

He pulled back from sucking Steve’s dick, ignoring his twitching little cock to move lower, licking a wide strip up his cunt.

Steve was fucking soaked. His slick covered Billy’s chin almost immediately, and Billy lapped it up, savoring the taste.

“You’re so wet, Baby. Been thinkin’ of me?”

“Yeah,” Steve was all breathy. “Thinking of you, Alpha.”

Billy grinned, and dived back in.

He licked up and down Steve’s slick opening, pressing his tongue inside of him. Steve was grinding his hips against Billy’s face, pressing into his tongue, spreading his legs as much as he could to allow for Billy to lick as deep as possible into him. Billy fucked him with his tongue, only pulling away to rub his tongue over Steve's stiff little cock, sucking it into his mouth and brushing his lips against it.

Steve’s hand squeezed Billy’s like a vice, his hips jumping, the fingers in Billy’s hair going tense.

“Wait, Billy, I’m gonna, Billy!” And he came for a second time since Billy’s been there. His hips bucking wildly, his slick gushing out, covering Billy’s chin, and adding to the wet spot on the sheets below him. Billy tongue fucked him through it, his own cock hard and heavy between his legs. He was trying his best not to rut into the bed underneath him, waiting to fuck Steve into next week.

“Billy, Alpha, I, I want you .” Steve was babbling, semi-incoherent begs for Billy.

Billy gave one final obscene slurp, pulling back and wiping his face.

Steve started pulling at his hair and clawing at his shoulders, trying with everything he’s got to pull him up. He was making these wild little chirps, actual words getting caught in his throat.

Billy huffed a laugh, and let Steve pull at him until they were back to level. Billy hovered over Steve, planting his elbows on either side of his head, and looked him right in the eye. Their cocks brushed together, and Steve gave a shuddering moan, one hand snaking down to grip Billy’s dick, lining the flushed head of him up with Steve’s dripping entrance.

Steve was stuttering through a string of pleasepleasepleaseplease, trying to push Billy inside of himself, his fingers trembling against Billy’s cock.

Billy kissed his cheek, and sank inside.

“Oh, fuck .”

Steve was even hotter than usual, so fucking tight.

Billy could feel even more slick gushing out, covering his own hips.

It was a mess. It was hot. It was probably the best sex anyone has ever had in the whole history of fucking.

Billy drew out in one smooth motion, adjusting himself slightly before pushing back in, pounding their hips together with a smack.

Steve shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Like that, Alpha. Just like that.”

Billy kissed his other cheek.

Steve’s skin was burning, slick with sweat, and flushed a beautiful red color.

Steve wrapped his arms and legs around Billy, coaxing Billy to keep slamming into him, keep fucking him.

He lost track of how many times Steve came, how many times his legs shook and he chirped up high in his throat and writhed against the sheets, looking like a mess and a beautiful fucking thing about to melt into the damp sheets.

But Billy could feel heat pooling low in his gut, could feel his knot beginning to swell.

“I’m close, Pretty Boy.”

“Yes, yes. Wanna take your knot. I need it .”

Billy gave two last harsh thrusts, bullying his knot inside Steve.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whimpered, his eyes wide as he stared at Billy, his chest heaving.

Billy wiggled one hand between them, clumsily brushing his thumb over Steve’s cock a few times, in no way matching the rhythm of his own thrusts, just trying to get Steve there.

And Steve came one final time, squeezing Billy so fucking tight, his body sucking Billy in. Billy could just pull Steve closer, shoving both arms underneath him to hold Steve as close as possible, kissing all over his blotchy face, growls and hums rumbling uncontrollably in his chest.

Steve had one hand tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, the other holding Billy’s hip, his thumb stroking over his skin lightly.

Steve buried his face in Billy’s neck, breathing in his scent and licking all over him, chirping tiredly and brushing his lips over the sensitive gland on Billy’s neck.

And he blew his load, spilling out deep inside of Steve.

#yikes writes #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #sweet little mango #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove abo #mpreg #again not yet but as you can imagine #this chapter is how it happens

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

v e l o c i t y - final chapter

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: this is it, everyone. Thanks for hanging out this far! I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride 😘

John’s P.O.V.

I knew something was wrong even before I left her. A wendigo just a two-hour drive away, should be a quick job and one I didn’t think she was quite ready for yet, so I took the boys and trusted her to be alone in the bunker for a little while.

I hadn’t anticipated the job to take over a day. I hadn’t anticipated having to sleep away from her body for the first time since I relented and allowed myself to get close to her.

But I particularly hadn’t anticipated the effect this first physical separation would have on the both of us, like it was our body’s way of punishing me for not claiming the woman who was meant for me.

Of course, my cells couldn’t tell I hadn’t really abandoned her. To them, I was ignoring everything my instincts wanted. I couldn’t really tell my own body everything was going to be alright because all it knew was that I couldn’t scent my unmated omega, and that was against every Alpha’s nature.

“Dad, are you alright?” I turned to stare at Dean, who was frowning up at me from where he was sat on the motel’s couch, trying to help Sam find out something about this damn thing we’d been hunting.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I scoffed, not interested in letting my kids see behind the mask of control I always put on. “Keep reading, we gotta get to the bottom of this.”

But my voice faltered, catching Sam’s otherwise occupied attention. He glanced up at me quickly before doing a double-take, concern written all over his features.

“Dad, you don’t look so good,” he pointed out, and the uneasiness inside of me had me aggressively growling at him, wanting to get this over with so I could go back to my omega.

“Boy, just fucking do your research, will ya?” I pointed towards the computer, waving my arms around before I decided to take out my jacket, sweat pouring out of me and making my shirt stick to my chest.

I could hear Sam’s unimpressed hum, but I was trying very hard not to take out on them this feeling of distress that was raising inside of me, so I decided to ignore it.

“Alright,” Sam conceded, even if I could still hear the disbelief in his tone. “But if you’re like this, can you imagine what she must be going through right now?”

The thought had me freezing, worry consuming my every thought. I hadn’t considered that before he suggested it to me, and just that fact had guilt burning my stomach, the knowledge that I had failed as her Alpha cutting through me.

“I have to get to her.” My hands were already reaching for the car keys, I could see the boys nodding from my peripheral vision. “I have to go home.”

They stayed behind as I went to the door, Dean awkwardly waving while reminding me to come pick them up once we were “settled”. “There’s no way I’m going to that bunker while they’re like this,” I heard him say to Sam, and I can’t say that I minded.

I couldn’t even think about it. All that mattered was my girl, and how quickly I could get to her.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I don’t think I’d ever felt agony such as this. Sweat covered every inch of my body, my fingers incessantly working my clit as I shook with the need to feel John near me.

It took me by surprise, this overwhelming urge to cum, a desperate calling from deep within my bones that took me to his bedroom before I could even rationalize it. Buried in his sheets, it was almost possible to pretend that he was here.

Almost.

I just wish that I was able to hold myself together for long enough to call him, let him know of my state. As it were, I couldn’t stop touching myself for long enough to do anything. All I could think about was my need to be filled, my need to be claimed, fucked, owned in every possible way.

I knew the smell of my wetness was almost unbearable by now, taking over the entire bunker in an effort to call for my alpha. I almost pitied the boys once they returned to find me like this, but right now, I couldn’t care. This need had me drenching his bedsheets and all that was left for me to do was hope and pray that John was coming home soon.

Seconds melted away into hours while I stood there, delirious in desire, hopeless in need. The only sounds I could detect in the empty bunker were of my own overwhelming wetness as I slowly fucked myself to an unsatisfying orgasm, over and over and over again.

So when the door opened up to reveal a distressed and disheveled John, I honestly thought I would cry.

“Jo-Alpha,” I moaned, overcome with excruciating longing. Now that he was here, my body suddenly relaxed before my muscles became tense again, all at once. “I need you.”

And I truly did. The scent of him was enough to calm me down for a millisecond before it turned up the need in my omega nature, calling out to him so he’d finally do what both of our bodies so desperately needed.

“I came as fast as I could,” he admitted, hands making quick work of his own clothes, and the relief I felt inside of me as I realized he wasn’t going to fight this anymore was simply unbelievable. “As soon as I realized…” He didn’t finish himself then, almost falling over as he tripped on his jeans, eager to get closer to me, his body as needy for mine as I was for him.

“I couldn’t handle imagining you suffering half as much as I was, ‘mega.” He climbed the bed still half-dressed, even if only in his boxers, but the second that his skin touched mine, I was thankful for it.

It was enough to calm down my cells - for now. He rubbed his nose against my scent gland, sending the signal it needed to understand that everything was okay, my Alpha was here now.

“I’m sorry that I left,” he whispered against my skin, body molding against mine until I felt pleasantly suffocated by his weight. “I should have known better. Should have known I’d be hurting us both.”

Now that he was here and I could feel his warmth, the pain had faded away, leaving only the overwhelming need to be filled. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me this time.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I assured him, hands traveling down the expanse of his large back to reach for his boxers. “Just fuck me.” A growl escaped John at my request, driving me even crazier with need. “Fuck me, please, Alpha,” I begged. “I can’t take this anymore.”

I wasn’t exaggerating. I was about to lose my damn mind. And when John pushed away just enough to connect his eyes to mine, analyzing my state, and whispered, “I’m not gonna be able to hold back,” the whine that escaped me was barely even human.

It seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear though, because it led him to press open-mouthed, wet kisses against my cheek, trailing down my jaw and neck until he was right over my scent gland, lips engulfing it.

“I’m gonna ruin you, little girl.” Whimpering, I desperately rubbed my drenched cunt against the boner still covered by his boxers, all while he took a hold of my wrists and pinned them to the bed. “And you’re gonna love it.”

I had no doubts about it. When his lips met mine, drowning me in his kiss, I gave myself completely to him, fully immersed in the dance our mouths performed, distracted from the overwhelming emptiness that I felt for just a second.

“Let me make you feel good, baby girl.” It was a new pet name that he’d been using for a few weeks, and it always made me instantly wet. Hearing it in this context though, had me going absolutely feral.

John’s P.O.V.

My hands roamed all over her perfect body, unable to believe that I finally had it completely exposed to my gaze. I silently thanked myself for having let the lights on when I walked into the room, desperate to calm her down. It allowed me to fully take in the beauty underneath me, about to become completely mine.

“Fuck,” I breathed out as I filled my hands with her breasts. “This all for me, ‘mega?” She just whined, nodding slowly as I licked my lips in explicit hunger. She was so soft. And she became even softer as her muscles relaxed underneath my touch, her body finally surrendering to her Alpha.

“There you go, little girl…” I grunted in appreciation, slowly unglueing our bodies so I could stare down at where she was sticky and taunting. “’Ve been dying to taste you.” It came out more as a mumble as I thought out loud, crawling backward to reach her sensitive little pussy.

The scent of her was overwhelming, begging me to reach out and dive right in, but just before I could, she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in, fingers wrapping on on my hair and pulling hard as she fought.

“No!” Caught by surprise, I pushed her down by the inside of her thighs, forcing her to spread them open, letting me take in the beautiful sight of her wetness despite the burn on my scalp.

“Just a little taste, baby girl…” I negotiated, tongue already stretching to reach her, take in her sweetness. She was as delicious as I’d expected, and it was impossible not to go back for seconds, bury my face against her hole, try to get as much of her juices as I possibly could.

“Please, please, stop!” She argued, desperate to be filled, but I wasn’t done with her yet. So I tapped two fingers against her pouty lips, still licking away at her pussy.

“Open up.” It took her a while to did as I told, but as soon as she obeyed, allowing me to run my digits over her lips, I buried those two fingers inside her mouth, silencing her complaints so I could peacefully eat out this cunt like I wanted to.

A light bite had me inhaling sharping, wishing I had enough self-control to bury my cock in her mouth, make her choke on it, but that would be for later. “Behave,” I ordered, going back to sloppily eating her out.

It didn’t take too long for her to flood my mouth with her essence, which was everything I wanted and the last thing missing for me to completely snap. Chest heaving, I leaned down to cover her neck with my hand, tilting her face to the side so I could look at where I wanted to leave my mark on her.

“Are you ready, omega?” She opened her eyes then, almost out of it as she blinked rapidly to be able to focus on me. When she did, taking in the image of me hovering over her, my cock finally out, she immediately started whining.

“Please, Alpha, please!” I couldn’t take it anymore and I knew she didn’t, either. So I connected her lips to mine one more time, and stuffed my dick inside of her, thankful that the overwhelming wetness helped me push it in without much problem.

I would not have been able to be patient. The second the head of my cock breached her, her tightness was so staggering that I audibly hissed, needing to part from her mouth to try to get some control over my own body but quickly realizing I’d lose that battle.

My hips started acting on their own accord, thrusting in and out of her while she gasped and clawed at my back, ecstatic comments of, “Fuck,” and “Yes,” slipping from her lips.

“So fucking tight,” I groaned, watching where we were joined in fascination. “But we fit so well.” The sounds of her drenched cunt swallowing my dick were only adding to my arousal, getting me to fuck her faster and harder with each thrust.

“You were meant to take me, little girl,” I panted over her, riding us both to our highs, desperate to get her to cum for me again, this time around my cock. “This is where you belong now, huh? Right here, underneath me, filled by my dick.”

Feeling her from the inside, witnessing just how tight she was while still being able to fuck her just showed me how much we really were made for each other. Shame washed over me as I thought back on how much I tried to fight this. “Cum for me, baby girl,” I softly whispered, taking in her blissed expression, trying to distract myself from the guilt. “Cum for your Alpha.”

Her body went taut underneath me, unable to disobey my direct order, but it was clear that she had reached her limit anyway. She looked so good with her eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, gasping for air and moaning at the same time, that I didn’t want to look away, but a pressing urge was clawing at me, and I knew it would soon take over.

It was time to claim her.

My mouth settled over her scent gland, engulfing it completely as my teeth marked her for the world to see. Her screams of pleasure became laced with pain, but the way she held me down to her body let me know she was enjoying this, as painful as it was.

When it was done, my pace changed to a slower rhythm, trying to get used to this new bond, the way I felt her pleasure intertwined in mine.

“Finally,” she joked a little breathlessly, making me laugh as I nuzzled her neck. “Does it still feel wrong to you?” I knew she was trying to pass it off as teasing, but the emotion was clear in her tone - and I could feel her vulnerability now.

Opening up a smile, I pecked her lips before assuring her, “Nothing has ever felt this right.” I knew she was feeling sensitive, but I could also feel her need for more, her need for me rising. She needed my knot, and I was going to give it to her.

Tears had started to flow down her cheeks, but her smile let me know it was more happiness than anything else. So I kissed away the wet paths they left behind as I kept rutting in and out of her, knowing there was absolutely no way of stopping myself from spilling inside her tight warm cunt.

Her body instinctively pulled away, trying to escape my knot, but I pulled her closer, burying myself as far as I could reach while nuzzling the mark that announced her as mine. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, omega.”

At the sound of her title, she finally relaxed, just as I began filling her up, my mouth rebranding her all over again. “You belong to me now,” I sighed, resting my head on her chest as her hands wrapped around my back.

It was quiet in the room then, both of us catching our breaths and relishing in each other’s presence, knowing we’d never feel alone again. I kissed her temple as I adjusted us so she’d be laying on my chest, my knot still settled deep inside of her when I started to caress her skin.

“I hope you’re ready, little girl,” I teased. “We’ll be spending a lot of time like this from now on.” I could feel her smile against me, giving me a quick kiss before retorting, “You may be surprised to know this, John Winchester, but I really don’t mind the idea of spending the rest of my life in this bed with you.”

#my series #john winchester x reader #john winchester reader #john winchester reader insert #john winchester reader inserts #alpha! john winchester #winchester fanfic #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester fics

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morkofday · 3 years

Text

some heihua for the soul

so the update for Binding isn’t happening today bc my brain is complete mush after trying to aggressively finish my thesis yesterday and i decided to give my brain two days off bc of that. also, i promised @ashenwren some time to beta read the ending part (which they already did but! now i need some time with it myself) so i am leaving everybody to wait until saturday.

meanwhile, i am offering yall a sneak peek/first look at my heihua fic which is very loosely tied to my pingxie. basically, this is just me playing around with hei xiazi as a character and his and xiao hua’s dynamic’s more... tender side.

i know that @jockvillagersonly and ashen have already read this which has been amazing so thank you for your love ♥ but take this again ^^ also thanks to @cross-d-a for listening to me ramble about heihua and sharing this idea with me. and thank you to @i-am-just-a-kiddo who i’m doing all of this for ♥ you are the best parent-in-law for these two and this fandom!

It’s a bad week for him.

First, it’s the girl he finds while raiding a warehouse full of smuggled weapons and possibly, most likely, drugs. She’s maybe twelve, eyes wide and hair messy, bones poking her skin where Hei Xiazi can see her elbows flashing under her short sleeves. There are bruises around her wrists and burn marks on the inside of her arms. She doesn’t speak but she doesn’t have to, all of her screaming of experiences worthy of a hundred years instead of a dozen.

She presses her face into her hands when Hei Xiazi fires his gun, and he feels something come loose inside of him at the broken, aborted noise she makes that rings louder than the shot itself.

Hei Xiazi carries her kicking and screaming out of the warehouse, leaving behind the slowly ending gun fight and the smell of gasoline. She only goes silent once Hei Xiazi puts her down, flinching bodily away from him but not going far. She hovers, fingers slowly curling around the hem of his long jacket while they wait, shoulders hunching against the cold. Hei Xiazi offers her his jacket with a smile, buys her a sandwich which she then throws up, and helps her into a hospital once they’re safe to leave.

No one else stays behind with her. All the other people they found from that warehouse scattered as soon as the fight began and only she remained, lost in the thought of having to leave the premises that had become her world. She has no family, no house, no money. Hei Xiazi watches her leave with the social workers, bones of her wrists like twigs threatening to snap even after some proper meals and eyes so big they seem to swallow the light around her. She still hasn’t said a word. Hei Xiazi doubts she ever will.

Her pale face looks like a ghost as she turns to give Hei Xiazi one last glance over her shoulder, and that’s what she becomes to him once he goes home and puts that warehouse out of his mind. It’s hard and he feels himself haunted, and whatever it was that got loose in his chest rattles like the tail of a snake.

Then, he hears about Su Wan. Hears about the mission that went south with the three youngsters. Hears about Su Wan getting hurt.

It isn’t anything new in their line of business to get hurt, to even die. When he first met the boy in the desert, he predicted he would find him six feet under after only a day. There was too much softness in Su Wan, too much trust, too much naivete. He had a big brain and clever ideas but his core was gooey, leaking out in way too telling bursts, leaving nothing hidden.

Su Wan had reminded Hei Xiazi of young Wu Xie. Even his floundering with his knife had reminded him of Wu Xie. Even his adaptability had been annoyingly similar to Wu Xie’s, and Hei Xiazi had questioned his taste in students. At least the boy had paid better. At least the boy hadn’t been wishing to die.

He had not expected, after knowing all of that, to experience such fear when he first heard that Su Wan had gotten himself stabbed and had almost bled out in a cave, with only Li Cu and Yang Hao to look after himself and a saving bed of a hospital hours away. His hands had shook, making it impossible to hold anything while trying to breathe, and he had quickly been reminded of the little girl, torn open and going a bit feral just because she didn’t know what to do.

It was a surprisingly new thing to care. As surprising as the fact that he still knew of such things.

“I thought I had taught you better, kid,” he says as he goes to the hospital, in the middle of the night of all things, having to cover Su Wan’s mouth so that he doesn’t scream and wake up the better half of the city. The boy’s eyes are wide and heartbeat rapid under his fingers where he can feel it pulsing against Su Wan’s jaw. Then the boy is scrambling at his fingers to speak from between them. He pulls his hand away.

“Hei-ye!” the boy whispers fervently, like an anchor casted in water. “I thought you were out of the country!”

“I was until yesterday when I heard that you got stabbed,” he explains, voice leaning more towards mockery than any actual care. Su Wan knows what that means. The boy knows more than anyone else has ever known about a person like Hei Xiazi. It’s a strange thing but Hei Xiazi has come to almost like it.

“I’m fine!” the boy chirps, lighting up like a lightbulb. Hei Xiazi helps him sit in his bed, snatching a chair for himself from the corner, and then evaluates the damage. Su Wan is smiling while a thick roll of bandages circle his stomach. There are at least thirty stitches there, curving along his side. Some more adorn his bicep where he tried to evade another blade. A darkening bruise is making his cheek swell, casting an extra shadow under his chin.

Hei Xiazi sighs and closes his eyes when Su Wan starts to tell the story, his voice a soft whisper made even softer with lingering sleep. The beep of the machines tell Hei Xiazi the boy is alive. The painful thrum of his own heart tells him he’s alive too.

Su Wan falls asleep holding onto Hei Xiazi’s sleeve. He cannot remember how the boy got the leather between his fingers but prying his hold away is like bending steel. It feels impossible and burns equal amounts.

Finally, he slips back into the cold night.

He doesn’t go to his apartment, the one he’s currently occupying, his few belongings strewn across the floor and nothing making the place feel like his. Even after years and years and years, some part of him still feels sick at the thought of emptiness. He’s tried his hardest to carve his bones empty and chest clean but after each year spent alone or with someone or wanting, he realizes it’s a battle he cannot win. There’s something terribly strong under his ribs. It refuses to die even before his curse of immortality and the knowledge that goes beyond his comprehension. It refuses to die even when facing the cold, cruel world.

The walls surrounding the Xie Manor are high but not high enough to keep him at bay. If they were, he would’ve never come here. He would’ve never returned, not after he once left.

Climbing up the wall of the manor to the third floor makes his lungs burn, but then he’s pushing the window open already, stepping silently onto the polished floor.

“Xiazi,” a familiar voice says, not even pretending to sound sleepy. “It’s three in the morning. Is it really a suitable time to be visiting the head of Xie family?”

Hei Xiazi smiles, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing it onto the back of a chair beside him. The air in the room feels chilly with the window open but he likes to hear the noises from outside and he likes the line of silver painted onto the floor and across the luxurious double bed. He likes that he can pretend his vision is so clear just because of the moon.

“Hua’er-ye,” he says back, voice like honey because he loves to tease this man and loves how the tone makes his perfect eyebrows pinch. “Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

“I would dream you naked at least, not dripping mud all over my floors.”

“As you wish,” he says and reaches for his own belt before moving closer to the bed, toeing his shoes off on the first two steps.

Xie Yuchen is warm but firm when Hei Xiazi meets his body, crashing into his lips and then slipping hands down his silk covered spine. He hums, hiding his laugh. He’s always loved the absolute brilliance and practicality and strength of this man but under all that, Xie Yuchen is a little spoiled. A rich family head. A powerful man with more money than Hei Xiazi could possibly imagine. He’s never tried, not really caring. For all his acting, he’s never gone for Xie Yuchen for his money.

He takes care of helping Xie Yuchen out of his expensive pajamas, kissing him wet and shivering after each uncovered piece of skin. There is something beautiful about Xie Yuchen in the stark light of the moon, eyes burning bright and the line of his throat like an invitation. Hei Xiazi wishes he could tell him that, sometimes, but he’s preferred to seal his lips. His poetry would not suit the ears of Xie Yuchen.

He’s never been one for pretty words, crude and almost barbaric instead, tongue made out of barbwire and mind of a strategic plan. Between them, all those edges exist in harmony, and so he’s never felt the need for anything more, enjoying the simplicity of just being.

Ironically, as the sun is already rising, coloring the horizon with its colorless light, he still descends into words. It’s like something is pulling them out of his chest, and when there’s a force outside of his control beneath his ribs, he cannot do anything but unravel upon Xie Yuchen’s white satin sheets.

“There was this girl,” he says, looking into the still remaining dark – or as dark as anything can be for his eyes, that comfort taken from him ages ago. “I saved her from a warehouse a couple of days ago. She didn’t speak, couldn’t eat because she’d been kept hungry for so long. There were burn marks on her arms, probably from cigarettes or a lighter. They told me she was thirteen. She didn’t look like she was thirteen.”

Xie Yuchen’s hands are on his back, brushing lightly against his shoulder blades, drawing something there. His heartbeat is steady under Hei Xiazi’s cheek and his skin burns, burns, burns. He remembers how he had looked at that girl in the eyes and seen himself there.

“I remember,” he says quietly, closing his eyes, “feeling the same burn on my skin. I have no memories of when or why but I know there were cigarettes. I know her pain. I know the scars.”

“Were you a child back then?” Xie Yuchen asks, his body a strong, sturdy thing against him. A rock. A mountain. He never thought he would feel lost in this world but there is something about himself in every child he’s ever saved, in all of their wide, fearful eyes, in all of their screams, their desperate fight, their bared teeth and messy heads of hair. There’s something about him in all of their thrumming, wild panic, like a bird under their skin; in their desperation to get away, to find a place to belong, to find safety and food and trust. To heal a body that has not been their own or has felt like an enemy or a liability or a curse.

He cannot remember the time he was a child, cannot remember the time before he went blind and began to see too much, cannot remember being anything but this eternal man on the outskirts of the world. He cannot remember ever having a family or feeling the absence of it.

But then, there’s this echo in his mind. It rings back from the eyes of every child he’s ever tried to help. He thinks, maybe, he still knows how he lost.

“I only remember being burned,” he says. “I only remember the pain and being afraid. And isn’t that a stupid thing to remember when it could be so many things?” He laughs, as much as it can be a laugh when something twists inside of his chest, bringing tightly together that something that was let loose. He chokes on it, feeling his voice die down. Xie Yuchen turns beside him so that they both lie on their sides, looking at each other. The line of the moon falls over Xie Yuchen’s hips and almost lands on Hei Xiazi’s waiting hand.

“Bad things linger,” Xie Yuchen says with a certainty of a man who knows this to be true. During the years, Hei Xiazi has learned a couple of the bad things that happened to this proud man. “But you are turning them into something good.”

“And how much does it change to save a couple of children?” he huffs, tired of the heart that cannot leave him at peace.

“For them, everything.”

#dmbj #the lost tomb #heihua #hei xiazi #xiao hua #all feedback is appreciated i suppose #just wanted to share this here #expect binding on saturday!#enjoy your weekend everybody!!#also yes i will die #for hxz adopting random kids #cross your brain was so lovely #for providing me with this #my fic

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dimitrescus-bitch · 3 years

Text

Angel (Alex Cabot x Reader)

Song: Angel by Massive Attack

Smut

The apartment was dark whenever Alex walked in. For a moment, she looked around in confusion. You had told her that you’d be getting home early, but there wasn’t a sign of you anywhere. Down the hallway of your apartment, a seductive beat began playing from your bedroom stereo. You opened the door and Alex saw a glowing light emitting from the room. She set her coat and bag down as she walked towards the bedroom.

“What is all this?” Alex asked as she looked around the room. You’d definitely tidied up the room a bit and then got some candle lights to help set a mood lighting.

“You’ve been working really hard lately. I’m feeling a little neglected and you are in dire need of some decompression,” you told Alex. She couldn’t argue with you about that, she had been really hauling ass to help the detectives on their cases. Even before Alex had been assigned to help out the SVU, she had been overworked. Now, she was overworked and seeing things that were keeping her up at night. “Come on, sit down and let me take care of you.”

Alex stepped towards where you were resting on the bed. You sat forward a bit and hooked your fingers in Alex’s belt loops. Alex glanced down at you and reached under your chin to tilt your head up. She leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. You kissed her back and stood up, pushing her back a bit from the bed.

You traced your tongue across the top of Alex’s bottom lip, urging her to open her mouth a bit. Alex opened her mouth and welcomed your tongue to explore there. She tasted like coffee and you would have bet that she had one on her way home to you. Alex never put sugar in her coffee when she drank it in the evenings.

Alex pulled away from the kiss and pulled your head to the side so that she had better access to your neck and jaw. Alex trailed kisses there as you untucked and unbuttoned her shirt. You dropped back down onto the bed and tugged Alex towards you by the waistband of her slacks. Alex stared down at you as you unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her pants. You glanced up at her as you leaned in and bit the end of her zipper. Her eyes widened as you began to tug it down before yanking her pants down her legs. She kicked them off completely and you placed your hands on her hips.

Alex spread her legs a bit as you tugged her closer to you. You fell back against the mattress and Alex’s fell forward, straddling you. This was the first time that she really got a good look at you. You’d put so much of the focus on her so far that she hadn’t taken a second to slow down and admire what you’d put on her for. The white lace lingerie was delicate and much cheaper than it looked. By the end of the night, you hoped that it’d be in shreds on the floor.

“You look like an angel,” Alex told you as she trailed her fingers down your abdomen. Her hips were barely moving against your body as she rocked back and forth, grinding against you. Alex leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips again. You moaned as she moved one of her legs in between yours and Alex deepened the kiss.

You were putty in her hands as she ground against you, getting both of you off. It wasn’t how you wanted to make her cum though, or how you wanted her to make you cum. You slid back from under Alex and pulled her with you. You were now sitting up and Alex was perched on your lap. You let one of your hands slide over her underwear and you pressed against the first wet spot you felt. If you kept at it, Alex’s underwear would be even more ruined than they already were.

“Lay down, I want to taste you,” you told Alex. She pressed a quick kiss to your lips, reached behind her back to unhook her bra, and then tossed it aside as she rolled onto her back. You trailed your lips across her jaw as you left a trail of kisses. On her neck, you left little marks that wouldn’t darken enough to need a lot of makeup. Alex kept behind her desk most of the time and she did own a few fairly fashionable turtlenecks and scarves that she could wear out.

Once you got to her chest, you could be less careful about your markings. You left a dark and angry looking love bite on the underside of both of her breasts as you made your way down her torso. The trail of hickeys you’d left in the space in between her hips bones were covered with a kiss, the red of your lipstick fading as the marks darkened a bit. It’d be nice to know whenever you brought Alex something at work over the course of the next week what was hiding beneath her clothes. Maybe you’d be able to get her worked up enough for her to take you in her office.

“Please, Y/n,” Alex whined. She was getting desperate with you and that was just how you wanted her. You pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed it behind you flamboyantly. Alex gave a little chuckle at that, but it died in her throat when you pushed open her legs and leaned in. You left a delicate trail of kisses along the insides of her thighs before you pressed a kiss to her clit.

Alex moaned softly in relief at you finally touching her. She was wet enough for you to easily push two fingers inside of her. You kept a slow pace with your fingers as your tongue started lapping at her clit. You sped up both your fingers a little bit, just trying to push her closer and closer to the edge. Alex’s moans were no longer soft and delicate, but more guttural and breathy. Whenever Alex got to fucking you, the noises she’d make would better be described as feral, which was what you were hoping for.

That was why you were so careful to not push Alex too far when she was cumming. It was easy to get carried away with her, but you had intentions for how this night would go. Alex thought of you as her angel sometimes, but you were planning on securing a place in hell with your actions tonight.

“Fuck,” Alex panted as she pushed you away from in between her legs. She wasn’t laying down completely, which was a good sign. All it took for her to pounce on you was the sight of your hand moving in between your legs under your lace underwear. You were pinned under her body and just barely still completely on the mattress.

Alex was so excited to get you undressed that she fumbled a bit with your bra. She seemed like maybe she was getting a bit frustrated, which was when you told her to tear the lace off of your body. Alex didn’t hesitate once she saw the look in your eyes. You wanted her to completely ravage you and you weren’t going to have it any other way.

“Fuck me Alex,” you told her as she started grinding her hips against you a bit. Alex tore your underwear with the same ease that she’d ripped through the lace. You pushed Alex’s pinkie and index finger down before pushing her middle and ring fingers inside of yourself. Alex groaned at how wet you were as she started to thrust her fingers inside of you.

Alex was good at fucking you, just as good as she was at the other, more tender sexual activities. Everything with Alex was an immersive experience. She became everything for you during intimate encounters and you absolutely loved it. It felt like a sign that you and Alex were really meant for each other because you’d never had such a connection with anyone else.

“Alex, on my god, harder please. I need you to fuck me harder Alex,” you begged her. Alex reached her other hand under your head and leaned her forehead against yours. You tilted your head up and kissed her as she added her index finger into the mix. It didn’t take long for you to cum after that, especially when she started curling her fingers inside of you a bit.

“It’s only fair I get a taste of my angel,” Alex told you with a wink as she removed her fingers. You began to whine and your hips bucked up, looking for something to grind against so you could finish. Alex’s tongue replaced your fingers and your body couldn’t handle that. You weren’t sure if it was the sudden different sensation of her tongue probing in and out of you as she fucked you or if it was just the thought of her tongue fucking you that made you cum.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream and you kept trying to gasp for air, but it was no use. It was almost like Alex was sucking the air out of your body from between your legs. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and as Alex removed herself from between your thighs, they finally fell. You sucked in air and your lungs burned a little as Alex laid down beside you. She wrapped her arms around your waist and kissed your cheek several times as you started to calm down.

“As delicious as you were, we never did eat a proper dinner,” Alex told you. She glanced behind herself at the alarm clock and reached for her phone. “Is pizza okay?”

“Pizza is fine,” you yawned. Alex called in a pizza order and you just tucked your head into her shoulder. Alex let you sleep until the pizza place called to tell you that your order was on the way. You stayed in bed, wrapped in a big, fluffy comforter, as Alex got dressed in a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts to answer the door and get your pizza.

#Alex Cabot #alex cabot x reader #alex cabot imagine #alex cabot imagines #Law & Order: SVU #svu imagine #SVU #svu imagines #svu x reader

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masonscig · 3 years

Text

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 4.3k

warnings | angst, blood, body horror, gore. please let me know if i need to add any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @masonsfangs, @queerbrujas, @nerdferatum, @peonylon, @yoru-no-nekousagi

author’s note | sorry in advance – i know this wouldn’t happen in canon like. at all, but i just love making mason do some introspection :-)

read on ao3!

•─────────────────•

He was sure that he’d ground a line into the linoleum floor from how fast he was pacing. Nate’s voice was long gone from his subconscious – at this point he couldn’t be comforted.

For fourteen days he’d been outside that room, day in and day out.

He left for the basic necessities like… showering when absolutely necessary, but if anyone dared to try to relieve him, he was a gnashing, snarling mess. After the first couple days, they just left him alone.

They wouldn’t allow him in.

The most he’d heard from her was a mumbled greeting (said to someone else) through a cracked door.

He slumped into the chair he’d parked outside the door, fatigue curling around his muscles, winding its way up his nerves, the brute of it settling on his eyelids.

Fighting sleep wasn’t that hard – it’d never been this hard.

He’d been a tense ball of both rage and distress for so long that the first time he unclenched – there, hunched over in an uncomfortable folding chair – was due to pure exhaustion.

The metronome on the other side of the door was the only thing keeping him awake.

As long as he could hear her pulse through the walls, he wasn’t leaving.

He had to do something to stay awake. She could call him in any minute now –

So he started counting. One, two, three.

This is so fucking stupid, he thought, curling his hands into fists so tight that his skin screamed at him to stop before he broke through.

But he kept counting, kept counting until he was well into the thousands, not caring how much time had passed.

Thankfully, her heartbeat was steady, strong, so he knew she was still on the other side of the wall. That’s all he could ask for since he’d been kept in the dark for days.

Counting at least kept his mind off of the things that (rightfully) tormented him.

Mason could count on one hand the times he’d been truly terrified in his life. Most of them had happened the past few years.

Lots of times if he tried hard enough, he could feel the fragmented remnants of fear from a past life he knew nothing about, but those moments were rare and fleeting.

He usually pushed them down, deep down, until they bobbed to the surface like some deep sea anomaly that was trying to tug at his curiosity. It normally didn’t amount to much, but every once in a while he divulged in it, experiencing that bone deep ache of something he didn’t even think himself capable of feeling in the first place.

Since he met Sofía, though, fear was interwoven into his everyday life, like the ashes of his past were meticulously sprinkled across Wayhaven and he couldn’t do a single thing but feel it over and over and over.

Nonchalance and deflection couldn’t shield him from the shit he’d been through the past two weeks.

He’d taken the worst tongue lashing from Rebecca he’d ever gotten – it was the first time he wanted to curl into himself and hide.

“You knew how she felt about this,” Rebecca whispered furiously, her eyes well past brimming with tears.

She blinked them away, tearing into him as they streaked down her cheeks and onto the linoleum, not even pausing to wipe them.

“Our policy has always been to turn those who are one hundred percent consenting to the process, and you deliberately breached protocol when you knew this wasn’t what she wanted.”

Agent Olmos was sobbing through her anger, striding towards him while he backed farther and farther down the hallway towards the exit.

He let her continue, as did the rest of Unit Bravo, watching wide-eyed from behind her as she tore him to shreds in the same warehouse she aided in making their home.

“I hope you know that you cannot run from this. I plan on pursuing punishment to its full extent,” she said through stuttered breaths. “The worst the Agency can give.” The threat tacked on at the end of her tirade haunted him for days. And he’d never forget the look of absolute dejection tugging at every inch of her body.

Unit Bravo had stopped trying to console him days before.

Well, Nate and Felix stopped.

Adam was… vastly less understanding. He was furious, nearly as furious as Rebecca, but for different reasons.

He’d shut Mason out the second he’d chosen wrong, siding with Rebecca immediately.

Nate was still on the fence, opting to try to maintain the peace.

Felix was the only one who’d stood by Mason through it all.

“We’ve been kept in Wayhaven to protect her, right? Well, he did what he thought was protecting her at the time. And she’s alive, right?”

Mason overheard Felix defending him in hushed tones, trying to plead his case to Adam.

Well, he was right. He did exactly what he thought would save her at the time.

But he really didn’t think, he did.

Seeing her in a crumpled heap of nothing but limbs and blood triggered the worst of that feeling he tried suppressing.

If he had to put a name to the feeling, he’d probably say it was like being struck by a lightning bolt. Fear zapped him, violently so, each nerve ending in his body on edge, leaving behind a painful sting.

He’d sunk his fangs into her neck before they could stop him, releasing venom into the bite as Adam’s hand grabbed at his shoulder.

“Let me fucking go –” he yelled, thrashing in Adam’s ironclad grip.

“Is she breathing?” Nate asked in a raised voice, directing Felix while trying to keep Adam from crushing Mason.

Felix crouched next to Sofía's bloodied form, pressing fingers to the other side of her neck, shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Yeah, she’s breathing.”

“We have to get out of here now, Adam,” Nate shook his head frantically. “We might not make it back in time –”

“We will.” Adam said matter-of-factly, jaw firmly set.

“Let him carry her.”

“Absolutely not, he deliberately compromised the mission –”

“There was nothing deliberate about it. Please, we need to go –”

“Guys?”

Felix’s timid voice tore them both out of their argument and Mason stopped thrashing for a moment to look where he was pointing: her neck.

The scar was shrinking before their eyes, the crescent moon disappearing, replaced with her smooth, warm skin.

A low groan of pain echoed through the room. They collectively winced at the sound.

“She’s healing.”

The first crack was the loudest, reverberating off of the walls like a gunshot, startling everyone.

But with each one an even scarier sound came from her lips, the garbled broken moans filling the space between them and sending chills up Mason’s spine.

“We have to go, now.”

Nate was demanding, not asking, at that point. Adam gave him a curt nod before releasing Mason, one hand still grasping his arm.

“Take her to the warehouse. We have to prepare for the worst case scenario. Be on guard.”

“She’s going to survive,” Mason growled, shaking out of Adam’s grip.

“We don’t have time for arguments, guys, she’s turning right now –” Felix was nearly shouting, frantic and unprepared to witness what was happening in front of him.

Mason’s arms were curling underneath her back and the bend of her knees before another word was uttered.

“Felix go with him –” Nate called after them.

“Got it,” he nodded, already rushing to keep up with Mason’s lightning fast gait.

Felix smashed the large glass door open with pointed feet, trying desperately to clear pathways before Mason could get there.

One of the shards split the skin of Mason’s cheekbone open, but he barely winced, determined to push himself to his absolute limit to make it back to the warehouse in time.

The way every muscle in his body screamed at him like they never had before was nothing if it meant she’d be safe.

He could ignore the pain, sure.

He couldn’t ignore what was happening in his arms, though.

Crack after agonizing crack, she was breaking apart in his arms, her body shattering and putting itself together.

All he could do was grit his teeth and push himself harder.

Felix was clearly more affected, his expression one of horror, trying not to react to her cries of pain.

By the time they made it to the warehouse doors, she was shrieking, her animalistic screams slicing through the dead of night.

“Where do we – what do we do –” Felix was panicking, looking to Mason for an inkling of guidance.

“My room,” Mason grunted, forcing himself to sprint the last hundred feet to his bedroom.

For the last few minutes of her transformation, he and Felix sat by her side, trying to hold her down while she thrashed through the pain.

Her body stretched and broke and grew underneath their palms, her entire frame changing before their eyes.

She was still bloodied, but not battered, all of her lacerations from their last fight zipping up until there wasn’t a trace that she’d taken any damage.

The room was tense, even more so when Adam stepped in, his gaze steely, his glare cutting.

By the time Nate joined the room (thankfully) the worst of it was over, and she stilled, transitioning from loud moans of pain to labored breaths.

“Is it over?” Felix whispered, his tear streaked face glistening in the light when he looked up at Adam.

Adam nodded, lips set in a firm line. “If she comes to, she’s survived. If she turns feral, we’ll have to finish her off before Agent Olmos arrives.”

Mason’s voice was guttural, eyes wild, coming from a place of protectiveness that surprised even him.

“You’re not touching her –” he pushed off of the bed and stood at his full height, chin tilted slightly to eye the other man with a menacing glare. “– not if I have anything to say about it.”

“It is not up for debate. We will not risk keeping her alive for your ignorant, selfish reasons,” Adam nearly spat, voice unwavering.

When he said he’d kill for the Agency without hesitation, Mason didn’t think Adam would take it this far.

She was a part of the team… she was one of them.

“You’re that comfortable killing one of your own?” He shouted, his own volume foreign to him.

He wasn’t that guy.

He was the laid back one. The one who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

She’d done this to him. She’d snuck her way into his life a fucking song Felix played on loop until it was on repeat at the back of his mind for months and months and months.

“I’m comfortable following protocol, despite your apparent imperviousness to rules.”

“Adam, Mason, please,” Felix whispered from below. “She wouldn’t want this.”

Icy green and grey eyes were downcast, almost in shame at their outbursts.

Mason turned away from Adam, rolling his lips. “You’re right.”

“I apologize for arguing, but I will not change my mind.”

Mason nodded once, kneeling down next to Sofía's form as Adam slipped out of the door.

When she finally awoke, she was surrounded by the entire team – Unit Bravo and her mother.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim lighting.

“Mason?” Her half lidded gaze stopped on him and her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here – what happened – last thing I remember is getting knocked out –”

Struggling to sit up, she shifted her weight until she was upright. “Did we finish the mission? Did you guys make it out safe?”

“We have a lot to discuss, Sofía,” Nate said cautiously, stepping forward until he was looking over the bed.

“About the mission?”

“Not exactly.”

She stiffened at Nate’s tone, appearing a bit more alert, her eyes darting across each person’s somber expression.

“What’s going on?”

“You almost died, Sofía,” Felix murmured, struggling to keep his voice even.

She still looked puzzled, her eyes flitting between everyone in the room, gauging their reactions to what Felix said.

She landed on Mason, gaze pleading.

Tell me. Be honest with me, they said.

“Dammit, I had to – I couldn’t just let you –” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Mason knew he didn’t fuck up, but it sure felt like he did.

She crumbled before him, her expression one of a person who’d realized her humanity had been stolen from her.

Fisting the sheets, she looked down at her clenched hands, before ripping the cloth away, staring at her body in sheer disgust.

“This can’t be happening –” she whispered, her breathing becoming more and more frantic.

She rotated her hands in front of her face, scanning her long slender fingers (that weren’t before) with wide eyes.

A choked sob silenced her, her shoulders, hands, lips trembling.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, but we can work with you. We can accommodate you –”

She cut Nate off with a half-laugh, half-sob.

Whatever retort she was going to spit in his direction wasn’t coming, instead replaced with hysterical cries.

And whatever Mason planned to say to her wasn’t coming either.

He wasn’t one to preplan speeches, especially ones that were… apologetic (to say the least). His mind was completely blank as he watched the woman he thought he’d saved shatter in front of him.

He’d never seen her cry like this – he’s not sure anyone had.

She didn’t cry, not really, unless she was angry. Passionate.

Hadn’t seen her cry in a while, though. Couldn’t remember the last time she did, it’d been so long. He was to blame for most reasons she spilled tears.

And this time it was because of him. Again.

“Please let us try to help you,” Nate said, finally, somehow the bravest in the group, crouching down until he was on a knee, nearly eye level with her hunched form.

“There’s nothing we can do to undo your turning, but we can make you comfortable. It’s a little bit of an adjustment, but we can coach you –”

“A little bit?” She shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

Her head tilted up to survey the room again, her expression pained. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

He stepped forward impulsively, jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“You knew I didn’t want this – all of you knew I didn’t want this. Why did you let him change me?”

Change. But she was the same old Sofía.

“He’d already sunk his teeth in your neck by the time we noticed him move. We couldn’t stop him in time,” Adam said from the corner, brows furrowed, clearly uncomfortable.

Rebecca and Felix remained silent, clearly the most affected.

“I need all of you to get out.”

“We cannot do that, detective. There’s much we need to talk over –” Adam started, but she cut him off with a yell.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of this room right now, I’ll make you get out. Rebecca, that includes you. Get out. Now.”

The collective shock followed them out into the hallway as they straggled out of the room.

“Not you, Mason. Stay.”

The tone of her voice was enough to rattle him.

As soon as Felix closed the door behind him (after giving a worried glance back at Mason), she was pushing herself off of the bed. She struggled to stand upright like she was relearning how to walk again on new legs.

When she stood at her full height, she appeared to be tormented by the revelation.

She’d become taller than Felix and only an inch or two shorter than Mason. Her limbs were gangly, her body type completely different.

More tears fell, more sobs came, and with each cry he couldn’t help but feel himself cracking too.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“Did you? Did you really?”

“You were dying right in front of me. I couldn’t let you go, not like that –”

“Have you always intended on changing me? Do you care that little about me and what I want? Are you that selfish?”–

Fear – he was engulfed in it. The repressed storm – the one he’d always stood at the eye of – shifted, and he was engulfed in the monstrous waves, colliding with his worst fears at the same time he realized what they were.

He was going to lose her. And it was his fault.

He gritted his teeth, trying to come up with some kind of justification that didn’t sound selfish.

She spoke before he could collect his thoughts.

“My body is… different. It doesn’t even feel like mine anymore,” she whispered, plopping back onto the edge of the bed, head hung low.

“You’re still a detective. You’re still you. Nothing else around you’s changed,” he said.

He hoped that restating facts would be some kind of replacement for whatever jumbled mess was going on inside of his mind.

“No. I was supposed to decide who I’m going to be and you made the decision for me.”

His whole body stiffened, glued in place at the vitriol dripping from her words.

“You made my choice for me. I didn’t want this,” she repeated, shaking her head, hugging her arms around herself.

“You don’t have to be a detective –”

“Can you not just say you’re sorry? Is that really not in your vocabulary?” She asked, making a sound that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Have you seriously gone a hundred years without apologizing to anyone?”

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

Admitting fault was a weak point of his. Truth be told it cut his pride deep to say “I was wrong,” because he always had some kind of justification.

He was painfully stubborn. That didn’t bother him too much – not until those rare moments (like that one) where no matter how much he knew the other person was in pain, it was exceedingly difficult to form those three words and push them past his teeth.

The one time his impulse doesn’t kick in, and it’s when he should be desperately apologizing and groveling and begging on his hands and knees for forgiveness.

He’d thought for the longest time that a hundred years of an immortal lifestyle had wiped away all traces of his humanity, but it lingered.

Maybe that’s why she was a breath of fresh air – she was drawing those irrefutable human emotions that he didn’t believe himself to have anymore and tugged them to the surface.

She wasn’t a breath of fresh air – she was air. He’d been drowning for so fucking long, unchallenged, unchanging, and she came along like an otherworldly presence that wholly stilled his water.

God, was she his moon?

Did she hold that much power over his waves?

This revelation couldn’t have come at a worse time, as she continued despite his silence.

“I wasn’t supposed to come back here… now I’m trapped. I can never get out.

“I was supposed to be a doctor. I was supposed to be someone.”

The arguments he thought he’d spit out dissolved, as whatever he said next had to mean something. It couldn’t undo the damage, but it might could quell a sliver of her pain.

“You’re someone to me.”

She sank her teeth into her wobbling lip, no doubtedly harder than she intended, blood dotting the pink skin.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” Sofía murmured, voice surprisingly steady with her usual resolve, despite not being able to meet his eye as she said it. “Please go.”

And just like that, he was engulfed again.

He’d been nearly disowned by his teammates and prosecuted by his former boss, his entire immortal life in shambles, but he didn’t fucking care.

The only thing that mattered to him was whether or not she was going to speak to him again.

He squeezed his hands into tight fists again, trying not to think about what she’d said to him after she’d turned – she was understanding. She was kind. She was forgiving.

She was Sofía.

He’d robbed her of her humanity, sure, but he could’ve never taken away what made her Sofía. No one could do that.

“Hey, Mason. We’re having a meeting in thirty minutes,” Nate had said, sympathy written on his features like Mason was a tragedy and he’d already read the ending.

He thought if he waited long enough he could catch her and say what they both needed to hear: I’m sorry.

When the door finally opened (a minute before the meeting started), she stepped out, bookbag slung over her shoulder, not sparing him a second glance.

He stumbled after her, exhausted still.

He found himself hesitating to speak first, worried he was going to say the wrong thing, and nervous that she wouldn’t hear him out.

She was vastly more intimidating after her turning than she was before – her body had rearranged itself to be more predator-like. Of course he was scared.

But he didn’t fear her.

Her long legged stride was less determined than usual. Her posture was worse, like she was trying to hide. Her presence didn’t hold the confidence she used to have.

It was getting harder and harder to find what made her her.

But he still didn’t fear her.

As soon as they were settled in for the meeting (him perched against the seat she used to sit, her standing on the opposite side of the room), Rebecca commanded the meeting, demanding silence with nothing but a look.

“This will be our last formal meeting in Wayhaven, as we’ve all received new assignments.”

Mason’s chest twinged, his grip on the arm of the chair tightening until the fabric tore. No one else appeared as surprised as he was.

“Agent Du Mortain, Agent Sewell, and Agent Hauville, we’ll be relocating for the time being on a minor assignment while the Agency finds us something longer term,” she continued, surveying the room, not sparing Mason a glance.

“Sofía will not be joining us.”

The statement hung in the air like a thick fog.

“I’ve received special clearance for the time being. The Agency is giving me time to sort through my feelings before I decide whether or not I want to continue working for them,” she said, nodding towards her mother, both of them smiling ever so slightly.

When had they gotten so close?

“That’s awesome, Sofía,” Felix grinned, seemingly happy for the first time in weeks. “I can’t wait to visit you and have a sleepover for old times’ sake.”

She didn’t answer, her eyebrows furrowed instead like she was trying to break the news to him gently.

“I’m afraid this is the last time we’re going to see Sofía, Felix,” Nate murmured, reaching out to pat his bat cautiously.

“Ever?” His voice broke with the second syllable.

She dropped her bag and strode across the room, wrapping Felix in a tight hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were watering, too.

“I can’t come back here. Even if I choose this existence and I work for the Agency, they’ll never let me set foot back in this town, and… I don’t think I’d want to, either.”

“She’s right. I’m sure she will have to wait until the townsfolk die off until she can come back,” Adam nodded sympathetically despite his bluntness.

They were talking about her future – she was, too – without including Mason in it. Like she’d already made up her mind and everyone in the room knew but him.

No, he didn’t fear her. He feared life without her.

“Sofía,” he said, finally, voice low, ignoring the boring gazes of Adam and Rebecca.

She met his eyes, and for a split second he was relieved – her eyes were soft, forgiving, human, like the old Sofía.

It didn’t console him for long, though. She wasn’t looking at him the way she used to. She’d forgiven him, sure, but it was more than just that.

She looked at him like she’d moved on, her forgiveness magnanimous in nature, like she’d put it behind her – put him behind her.

Rebecca’s voice snapped him out of it, her tone biting. “Mason, you’ve been ordered to stay behind and stand trial. For the time being, you’ve been stripped of your title. If you’re granted amnesty, your Agent title will be restored, but for now, you’re to be taken into custody and prosecuted as a rogue. If you try to run, lethal force will be used without hesitation.”

Adam’s heavy hand on his shoulder made the situation much more realistic.

He really was losing everything. It wasn’t some horrific nightmare that he could shake himself out of.

The cuffs Nate clicked into place weren’t too tight (he made sure of it).

He couldn’t do a thing but watch Sofía say her tearful goodbyes to everyone.

She cried with both her mother and Felix, but pulled it together for Nate, snuggling her face into his chest. She even managed to get a hug out of Adam, despite his awkwardness.

When she made it to Mason, she tugged his shackled hands upward, slipping underneath his arms, tucking her nose under his chin.

He was stunned, the lump in his throat aching with regret.

He gripped her tighter, burying his nose into her hair. He knew exactly how she smelled, how she felt, how she tasted, but he was committing it to memory since it was the last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, arms trembling.

“I didn’t want the Agency to press charges. I tried stopping it. I’m sorry,” she whispered back, hands rubbing at his back in soothing circles.

“If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry,” he said again and again, trying to pour all of himself into her to show that he knew he was wrong.

“Maybe in another life.”

And then she was gone. And they were gone.

And he was still there. Still afraid.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #agent mason #mason x sofía #my fic #tw blood #tw body horror #tw gore

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the-pen-and-the-stethoscope · 3 years

Text

So while Six of Crows has been on my to read list for a while now when I saw that Shadow and Bone was coming to Netflix and realized they were all part of the same little universe I was like *rolls up sleeves* K guess it’s time to read five books in one month to prepare for this new series drop. (special shout out to @darklesmylove because it’s mostly your blog posts that convinced me I had to read this series...I give you this as a gift...)

And now I present to you (in the order which I read them) the events in the Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows books that made me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL (wow there’s a lot more of these than I thought there were).

- “The problem with wanting,” he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, “is that it makes us weak.” (unfortunately the last time I was seduced by the Darkling - NEVER AGAIN BAD SIR! But this was fucking hot)

- THE. FIGHT. OVER. THE. STAG. (Just...Alina not killing it, the Darkling is here, now he’s going to kill it. NOW ALINA IS IN FRONT OF THE STAG SAVING IT. NOW SHE WANTS MAL TO SACRIFICE HER. NOW THE COLLAR IS AROUND HER NECK AND NOW SHE’S UNDER HIS POWER AHHHHH) Bonus: “Shhhh. Quiet now, or I will let Ivan kill him. Slowly.”

- When Alina figures out the dream and TAKES THE POWER BACK!!! (yaaaaasss queen!)

- When the Darkling finds Alina and Mal in Cofton and that whole fight scene and her getting bit and then I had to WAIT UNTIL THE REST OF THE BOOKS CAME IN THE MAIL

- “From what I know of the Ice Court, whoever stole my DeKappel is exactly who I need for this job.” “Then you’d be better off hiring him. Or her.” “Indeed. But I’ll have to settle for you.” (I’m 50 pages in and in love with Kaz Bekker, someone help me)

- “Not just yet, Inej.” The rasp of stone on stone. Her eyes flew open. Kaz. (ugh my cold cold heart is awake and beats only for them!)

- Because I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days. (literally like......)

- When Jordie and Kaz get tricked. (I mean all of Kaz’s back story but that was...ugh..........)

- It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

- When Nina runs into the guards and the alarm goes off and I realize that I’m an idiot and OBVIOUSLY THINGS WERE GOING TO GO WRONG.

- WHEN INEJ TOUCHES KAZ’S FACE. His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.

- He slammed his fist against the window. “Do not speak my name.” Then he smiled, a smile as cold and unforgiving as the northern sea. “Welcome to the Ice Court, Nina Zenik. Now our debt is paid.” (like FUCK MATTHIAS GOT ME TOO. WHAT A GOOD ACT!)

- I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. It was the vow of the druskelle to Fjerda. And now it was Matthias’ promise to her. (OMGGGGGG)

- “This is going to sting a bit,” said the druskelle holding the whip. His voice was rasping, familiar. His hands were gloved. “But if we live, you’ll thank me later.” His hood slid off, and Kaz Brekker looked back at them.

- The sun was out for once, and Inej had turned her face to it. Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned over her cheeks. The harbor wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. (YEAH OKAY. AND THIS IS HIS LAST THOUGHT BEFORE DROWNING.)

- WHEN THEY STEAL THE TANK. THE TANK. AND THEN DRIVE IT THROUGH THE FUCKING TOWN.

- Nina on parem.

- “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.” (SCREEAAAAMS. BANGS HAND AGAINST BOOK. DIES.)

- “Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake...in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.” (asdlfkasgkjasglk;sdfjl)

- I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl. (YEAH BITCH!)

- When Alina first sees the Darkling while they are traveling the fold (I froze, I read it like four times, I couldn’t believe what was happening)

- When Mal suggests they go to that stupid party and then Alina actually agrees (I literally was like...well something bad is going to happen and I hate it here)

- When the Darkling shows up after Alina and Mal kiss. “Another otkazat’sya, Alina?” the Darkling mocked. (sdflkajd)

- “I can’t decide if you’re an idiot, or an idiot.” (ugh Nikolai, marry me)

- two pages later: “You’re a spectacular actor,” I said drily. “Do you think so?” he asked. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I’m doing ‘humble’ right now.” (FUCK ME)

- “I want to kiss you,” Nikolai said. “But I won’t. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him.” (Am I the only one who found this cute??? Why did Alina get upset??? Do I have Nikolai-colored goggles on??? Maybe...)

- When the Darkling came to Alina in her sleep and then PRETENDED TO BE MAL SO HE COULD HAVE HIS WAY WITH HER?!?!?!?!?! (ahhhhhhhhhh) “I missed you too, Alina.” That voice. Cool and smooth as glass. (AHHHHH)

- Nikolai stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the parquet floor. “When did you lift the blockades? How long have the roads been open?” (LSDAKLFSDLFDKASLDKLSKLKLL)

- “Not bad looking?” said another voice. “He’s damnably handsome.” Luchenko scowled. “Since when - “ “Brave in battle, smart as a whip.” Now the voice seemed to be coming from above us. Luchenko craned his neck, peering into the trees. “An excellent dancer,” said the voice. “Oh, and an even better shot.” (And then I damn near died.)

- There’s a whole three pages (that I will not re-type here) after they arrive at the Spinning Wheel of Nikolai just being *chef’s kiss* flawless. Some great lines include: “Everyone needs a hobby.” “I thought yours was preening.” “Two hobbies.” “Should I be offended that he doesn’t want to dine with us? I set an excellent table, and I rarely drool.” “What a filthy mind you have. I was referring to puzzles and the perusal of edifying texts.” “Last chance to run.”

- “Alina, I’ll be back to fetch you for dinner, but should you grow restless, do feel free to run screaming from the room or take a dagger to her. Whatever seems most fitting at the time.” (asldjkasl;dkfs;lkd NIKOLAI)

- Okay gunna skip ahead - you can assume any time Nikolai said anything I screamed.

- Nikolia’s second proposal (THE EMERALD!!! JUST HOW HE PUTS IT ON TOP OF THE WALL)

- Nikolai’s third proposal. Nikolai’s skin was warm, his grip gentle. I’d wondered if I would ever feel something so simple again or if the power in me would just keep jumping and crackling. (THIS is why he is perfect for her - no jolt of electricity, just warmth and comfort!!!)

- SERGEI!!!!

- When Nikolai gets fucking taken over by a nichevo’ya (I HATE EVERYONE)

- When Baghra sacrifices herself

- When we finally FINALLY find out what makes Mal so special (I mean....his tracking was OTHERWORLDLY I can’t believe people weren’t more fucking freaked out by him)

- “The Darkling marched on Keramzin.” (Literally screamed: “MY HEART HURTS.” I was crying. I nearly threw the book down. “BUT THE CHILDREN!” I say with my fists in the air. I am become a blade.)

- Nikolai visiting Alina while he is the monster and trying to make himself better (ahhhhh tears!!! THE EMERALD!!!) The words died on my lips. Nikolai turned my palm over and slid the ring onto my finger. (FUUUUCK. PAAAAIN.)

- When Nikolai comes back and FIGHTS FOR THEM IN THE FOLD!!!! HE MAY BE A MONSTER BUT HE IS NOT THE DARKLING’S MONSTER, BITCH!!

- “Please,” I sobbed. “Bring him back to me.” (lkadsflkj this was actually devastating even though I’m not a huge Mal fan)

- “We need more light,” he said. A choked laugh escaped me. I held up my hands, pleading with the light and with any Saint who had ever lived. it was no good. (UGHHHH. MORE PAIN.)

- Tamar sobbed. Toyla swore. And there it was again: the thready, miraculous sound of Mal drawing breath. (and also the first time I breathed for an entire chapter!)

- “Alina,” he said and kissed the scar on my palm, “I remember everything.” (Literally the last like twenty pages of this book I just gave up and was like actually Mal is adorable and I need to protect him at all costs.)

- “Really I just wanted to look at the words.” (ughhhhh)

- Once a man arrived with a fleet of toy boats that the children launched on the creek in a miniature regatta. The teachers noted that the stranger was young and handsome, with golden hair and hazel eyes, but most definitely off. He stayed late to dinner and never once removed his gloves. (NIKOLAI SIGHTING IN THE EPILOGUE MY HEART GOES ON)

- When Van Eck thinks Kaz is coming to get Inej and then he tells Inej and then she is WILLING HIM to not show up and then it is revealed he wasn’t there all along (BOOM BITCH THAT’S HOW KAZ BREKKER FUCKING WORKS.)

- “Those were my mother’s favorite flower.”

- “Why the net, Kaz?” I couldn’t bear to watch you fall. (POETRY OKAY?)

- Jesper and Wylan going to see Wylan’s mother and just fucking everything about that chapter.

- When Inej almost FALLS INTO THE FUCKING SILO AND IT’S THE END OF THE GD CHAPTER

- “Pick up the pace,” Kaz said, eyeing his watch. “If I spill a single drop of this, it will burn straight through the floor onto my father’s dinner guests.” “Take your time.”

- “We’ll fight our way out together,” Inej whispered. Nina glanced from Inej to Kaz and saw they both wore the same expression. Nina new that look. It came after the shipwreck, when the tide moved against you and the sky had gone dar. It was the first sight of land, the hope of shelter and even salvation that might await you on a distant shore. (AHHHHHH)

- Wylan’s first thought was that this boy had the most perfectly shaped lips he’d ever seen. His second was that his father had sent someone new to kill him. (Wylan you are so adorable it’s adorable)

- Inej was moving before she thought of it. She couldn’t just watch him die, she wouldn’t. They had him down now, heavy boots kicking and stomping at his body. her knives were in her hands. She’d kill them all. She’d pile the bodies to the rafters for the stadwatch to find. But in that moment, through the wide slats in the banister landing, she saw his eyes were open. His gaze found hers. He’d known she was there all along. Of course he had. He always kew how to find her. He age the barest shake of his bloodied head. (THESE TWO!!)

- “My leg! My leg!” “I recommend a cane,” Kaz said. (cackling)

- When Sturmhond (aka Nikolai ***swoons***) showed up in Crooked Kingdom. (What actually happened: me reading a description of a “fox-like” man with Genya and Zoya and screaming and saying to myself “OMG WHEN I TURN THE PAGE IT WILL CONFIRM THAT NIKOLAI IS IN THE BUILDING I CAN’T” (did I mention I’m in love with him??? already??? k))

- When Jesper and Wylan FINALLY kiss FOR REAL (this was a big chapter for me) This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. it was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart - or was it Wylan’s? - like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh.

- CHAPTER 33 - just everything, everything about the reveals in this chapter. The money being funneled to the Shu, not being able to trace even the RANSOM NOTE back to Kaz. WYLAN SHOWING UP!!!! “ARE YOU SURE THEY WERE PEKKA’S MEN?” !!!!!!!!

- “Do something,” Matthias growled at Kaz. “This is about to turn ugly.” Kaz’s face was as impassive as always. “Do you think so?” (bahahahahaha)

- Nina’s just complete glee over the chaos she creates!!! “She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.”

- Jesper using his fucking power!!!!!!

- She stared up at him. He was going to miss that look of surprise. (HE’S GOING TO LET HER GO. HE KNOWS HE IS GOING TO LET HER GO.)

- KAZ’S PLAN BECOMING CLEAR IN IT’S BRILLIANCE AS EACH CHAPTER GOES BY.

- Inej frowned. “I thought you and Nina chose four outbreak sites on the Staves.” Kaz straightened his cuffs. “I also had her stop at the Menagerie.” She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again. (AHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

- “A sedative,” said the medik. “Is that safe for a pregnant woman?” “For me.” (This is just FLAWLESS in its depiction of people who don’t do OB care regularly.)

- Matthias saw the anger there, the rage. He knew it well. But he was still surprised when he heard the shot. (NOOOOOOOO!!!)

- “Has she at least done it before?” said Kaz. “For this purpose?” asked Sturmhond. “I’ve seen her do it twice. It worked splendidly. Once.” (NIKOLAI I BEG YOU!)

- When Matthias DIES?!??! (I’M SORRY WHO LET THIS HAPPEN??)

- “You will meet him again in the next life,” said Inej. “But only if you suffer this now.”

- Wylan getting all of his father’s money because KAZ HAS BEEN PLANNING THIS ALL ALONG??!

- Jesper leaned in and said, quietly enough that no one else could hear, “I can read to him.” (alksdflk;jasfl;jkd that was hot)

- “Well hopefully the medik will be here to fix my ribs soon,” he said as he headed back into the parlor. “Yeah?” “Yes,” said Wylan, glancing briefly over his shoulder, his cheeks now red as cherries. “I’d like to make a down payment.” (OMG WYLAN?!?!?! IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!?! IS THIS ALLOWED?!?!)

- At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.” (TEARS.)

- She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. (I gasped so loud i literally woke my cat up from a deep sleep.)

- “Wait,” he said. The burn of his voice was rougher than usual. “Is my tie straight?” Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair. “That’s the laugh,” he murmured. (THAT’S THE LAUGH. THAT’S THE LAUGH. AHHHHH)

Okay done. Gunna go stare at the ceiling until tomorrow night/whenever I finally get King of Scars and Rule of Wolves in the mail (BECAUSE YOU KNOW MY SORRY ASS IS DYING AT THE THOUGHT OF TWO BOOKS ALL ABOUT NIKOLAI)

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psalloacappella · 3 years

Text

Pink

Title: Pink Pairing: SasuSaku Word Count: 2,636 Rating: E for Explicit Tags: powerplay, orgasm denial, shut up and sit down Sasuke

Hems, hips — her hair, those lips.

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

It doesn’t occur to him until she’s easing herself to the floor, assuming a position of mien supplication on her knees that she’s been working him since he’s come home.

His mouth drains dry, and he couldn’t form a question even if he tried. Always she supplies the answer, quenching his endless thirst. Plucking the ends of his silences and teasing them into his obsessions, the desperate adoration to which he has trouble testifying. Analytical observation be damned — he’s a sham of a shinobi, letting her do this, corner him here.

But it’s something he believes she does better; starts the beguilement hours before with the loving and effervescent notes in which she trills his name, the way her eyes linger on him with a sense of personal, possessive delight.

Jade eyes like glass, lips tumescent and plush from drawn and excruciating touches she’s already given — his ear, the magnificent column of his throat, the sinew and muscle — a fever rising and pink in their cheeks from nothing else but their dance, because she hasn’t kissed him on the mouth once since this began. Lips mapping his body of scars and sorrow as a canvas, the latitude lines which lead her in.

“There’s patients out there, Sasuke-kun. So please be quiet.”

Why she chooses bringing him to the edge in front of others, well, he can only reflect that maybe they’ve had this tendency to play their affection out in a dramatic spectacle for a long time. Childhood, even. Perhaps that’s why their friends stay quiet and play blind and dumb to her brushing his cock with nonchalance in the middle of a vapid, overspun mission debriefing not once, but fucking twice.

“Though unlike you,” she whispers, “I lock the doors.”

He’s been gone for weeks, now traipsing home in the bleak dawn with the others, reporting for debrief and medical under her hungry gaze.

Once it starts happening around others, he knows he’s caught in her strings. Unable to admit even to himself that if she spurned him, stopped pining, he’d come seeking. Crawling, even.

So while Sasuke doesn’t often embarrass himself, much less twice in one day, or otherwise draw attention in the middle of meetings, he’d done so by reacting with aplomb, which means cracking his kneecap on the underside of their table.

He’s fairly sure that dark-haired girl had seen, really seen, and her face lit up like red festival lights. Unable to contain the vile knowledge, she had passed it to Ino as a talisman and Sasuke knows he’s going to hear about this, somehow, the next time he’s on a mission or otherwise sequestered with his idiotic psuedo-friends that really belong to Naruto, that tolerate him in kind. Ino’s the reigning rumor queen and Sakura’s best friend; nothing escapes her notice.

It escapes Naruto’s, though, who actually has the gall to shush him in histrionics in front of half the damn village — the audacity. All about his Hokage recommendation.

And same to Sakura, now, kneeling in front of him: preening, dragging a flat and soused tongue from the base of him to the tip with eyes that skewer him through keen as polished senbon, forcing a jutting of his hips he can’t hide and a sound in this throat threatening to crack — the audacity.

“Maybe you’ll want to sit for this one.”

Words slip from her lips as dripping silk, laced with the precious and delicate hint of a laugh. Never outright teasing but certainly just rasped and low enough to trigger the primal urge to lay her out on that empty emergency cot.

His exhale comes in tremolo, a sound of weakness that sparks his temper, matches on flint. But it melts away as her fingers replace the cradle of her tongue, navigating, pressuring him back into a well-placed chair.

Even on her knees, she bends him to her bidding.

She pumps him idly, ignoring his stifled noises and groans, regarding him with mellow innocence.

“Who’s coming for you? What are you worried about, Sasuke-kun?”

Soft tip of her thumb dipping to brush the tip, as a pot of ink; hands always soft enough for him but clean and calloused for the medicine. He always imagines her (because of course he does, in lonely caves and arid deserts and cleaning blood off blades, she’s always holding on to his heart) naked, kneeling, shy. And sure, she can do that, does. But her irises gleam sharp and something about that pristine white coat offering only a glimpse of the pink skirt that when she’s on her knees rides up to show the shape of her thighs — and if she would just spread them a little more —

She brings him back, refocuses him with a swipe of her hot tongue over his tip; she savors the tart taste with a moan and he slings a fuck! across the room just a little too loud.

With a sigh, she sucks his taste off her thumb and draws out the motion, lets him watch. She’s here for the glittering black stare, the fury dancing just beneath his skin. Removing it with a pop!, the playful smile pulling the corner of her lips is a brand of teasing he’s relented to more than a man ever likes to admit.

“So hard,” she says delicately, “and yet . . . so easy.”

Stupidly, he tries to respond. His eyes follow hers, bright and green and never once leaving him as his cock disappears past her pink lips and into the wet mess of her mouth and throat, ripping a noise from him feral and startled. The chair will end as kindling at the rate she’s going, a steady pace and unshaken gaze, slender fingers wrapped around him for the rising and falling and ridealong with her mouth while the other hand grips his knee in a gentle admonition against the urge to grab her by the hair — he’s overstepped, misinterpreted who’s leading once. As he learns in battles, he’s learned by her when to touch.

So, not now. Not yet.

He’s crumbling, ancient ruins disintegrating across time.

He’s a glutton for this, the way she bends him in the vein of punishment because deep down, she knows he’s not the legend, and she’s no saviour; they’re tremulous and in love, humans stripping their flimsy warrior veneer.

If he keeps meeting her eyes, he won’t last another goddamn second. Not with that panting as she catches her breath, tilting back her throat to gulp air before lowering her mouth on him again and he still isn’t allowed to touch her, not yet. Flexes a fist so tight his knuckles pop off in an erratic tempo — but that’s all him, on the flimsy edge of control. He brings his shoulders to his neck and undulates again, curses intertwining with her name, legs readjusting just a bit wider. Slicker this time, finally relenting to a lower, baser layer of himself. She is the only one, and he knows she knows, reducing him to nothing but them, this.

So he watches her bring him back to life, reminding him of the things that are real.

“Oh, fuck me—”

She grins around his cock in her mouth, and the sensation pulls a jutting of his hips and another rough word from his lips.

Does he know, as she pulls him apart and her pink-painted nails catch on the fabric covering his thighs, that she’s absolutely dripping? The buzzing in every atom as she brings him to a plane of existence terrifying and beyond comprehension. Lifting her slender fingers, she continues working him with her mouth, tucking stray locks behind her ear with the quick flick of the wrist.

He reaches for her, wants to brush it away himself; at heart, he tries to be a good man and often a giving one. Lavish, even, but stubborn.

She reasserts their rules, agonizingly pulling him from her wet ministrations and mouth with eyes as jewels, apt to cut.

Sa-Sakura, fuck—

Gazing up at the magnificent column of his throat, the beads of sweat clinging to the ends of his hair, the chair arm that endures the brunt of his strength. Something about the way he stares at her down the regal arch of his nose, struggling not to let his mouth fall open like some common tramp (such a snob, she thinks) to reveal enjoyment. Muscles twitching in tune with her touch: in his forearm, his thigh, and good gods even the one making an intermittent appearance in the beautiful pale canvas beneath the sharp edge of his jaw. It scratches at the surface of his skin, a trembling and unconscious weakness that keeps her slender fingers moving over his shaft, silk and velvet and slick.

Her eyes dart here and there, as if she can behold him all at once: His cock; the apple of his throat, never spoiling; and his eyes, one scarlet and keen and sketching whatever he’ll hold onto while he alone, whatever he touches himself to when he’s on the other side of the world.

He is melting. He is hers.

His hand reaches for her again; contemplates, and instead grips the muscle of his thigh. The quiet threat of her strength keeps him teetering, back and forth in the motion of waves as she leads him to the ragged edge and relents just enough to let him sink again.

With an angry breath, she presses her fingertips into his chest and flicks him back against the chair with just enough warning vigor to stutter and steal his own. She is taking, and perhaps only a man like this manages to beg in complete silence.

“You’re not being very good, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is sharp, an admonition.

When he sees the glistening string from her lips to the tip, their fluids, he considers disobeying — what’s the worst she can do, shatter his femur? Bones go back.

She watches him closely, letting their heart rates ebb closer to baseline in an endlessly taut wait before diving back in.

She takes him into her mouth again, and when her hand comes along to cup him underneath he thinks of bending her over her desk, fucking her in some messy and ruinous way, anything to distract him from the shaking in his thighs and hands and the noises he can’t tamp, can’t let out but can’t put back —

And her rhythm could kill him, his hips stuttering off-key, he’s too close, but he’d agreed so stupidly —

Fuck — Sakura — please!

His strained outburst gives her pause.

She blinks up at him, long and slow. Deliberate.

“Please.”

His voice fucking breaks, and he’ll never live this down. Thoughts leave him as he capitulates to everything stupid and base and his rough fingers bury themselves in her locks and they’re soft as he remembers, just like the rest of her except those hands with callouses born of antiseptic but this is worth it to him, he’ll surely be punished but in this world of shadows and deception and missions wrought with contradictions this is real, this is worth it —

to be at her mercy, to fuck her beautiful mouth raw.

And now she’s delicately swiping one of those beautiful hands across her mouth, green eyes verdant and wild with amusement and surprise.

Even knowing this was coming after all, sometimes he’s not so disciplined, in fact he fails when it comes to her more often than not it’s cathartic in itself, the way she regards him with delight despite his failure.

She stands and readjusts her skirt, smooths it down. Eyes surveying him and lingering on those such small things that reveal him, lay his soul bare: The heat in his face and glittering of his dark eyes, black like pitch; his hand as he tucks himself away. The jumping muscle in his neck. Her gaze flickers to his cock and back.

She curses, because no matter how raw in strength she is he possesses ungodly, stupid speed. The sound of her body pinned against the door, is loud, so loud, and prompts another knock on the door.

“Sasuke—!”

“You think you’ll just do that and get away with it, Sakura?”

“There’s simply no time.”

His fingers splay over her small ones to pin her hand, and she’s trammeled between him and the office door, mouth hot on her neck and seeking skin amid her mess of hair. And of course, he’s hard against the small of her back in a desperate way that leaves her legs unsteady and everything between them quaking, fervor and frenzied ache.

“Weeks,” he hisses against her, “in a wasteland.”

The breath he forces from her is a shudder, a shake. Playing a dangerous game, to break rules he already agreed upon for this round; after all, they both have legendary methods of bequeathing consequences.

“If you disobey me, you’ll be s-sorry.” Her voice is a bite, but wavering.

He groans into the kisses he’s leaving against the place her hairline joins the skin, leading into her ear, a sensitive juncture he espied that first night of which he’ll never, ever lose knowledge.

The knocking continues, louder this time.

“I want you here.”

“You lost. Now you wait,” she says. “And you’d better not touch yourself until I’m there.”

In a quick movement she slips around under his mismatched eyes, now facing him with her back against the door.

Her voice scant above a whisper when she insists,

“When you’re home, I only want it to be me.”

This is how a man breaks; this is how his knees shake.

“How does he still make you so flustered?”

“Pig, please.”

“You have a big brain, but you’re not good at hiding anything.”

Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she wiggles an index finger in what she thinks is a surreptitious way and asks quietly, “Why does he look so dazed?”

“I guess . . . I still make him nervous.”

“Over a post-mission physical? Big baby,” Naruto interjects, sticking out his tongue.

Sasuke scowls, turning away from them with a huff; Naruto snickers, and Kiba lets out a laugh closer to a bark.

“Doctor, lover, you’ve seen every inch of him.” Ino sighs. “I wonder.” Bringing another finger to pair with her index, she waves them and lowers her voice. “Did you try what I suggested, with the—”

Sakura elbows her so hard the clipboard in her hands goes flying; Ino bobbles it and hisses:

“Hey, no need for that!” Brandishing the papers, she huffs. “And you need these, they’re your dispatch orders!”

“Dispatch?” A flicker of concern crosses her face. “You mean I’m . . . going in the field?”

Kiba’s expression is blatantly irritated. “Uh, can I get checked out so I can fuckin’ leave? Got a report to write.”

Both women turn to look at him, glowering, and in unison snap:

“Shut up!”

“Ew, stop it you two,” Naruto whines.

Sakura folds her arms and sticks out her tongue at him in return. “Stop what?”

He gestures between his teammates, face screwed up in a nauseated expression. “This! I can feel it.”

Sasuke turns on his heel and stalks down the hallway.

Naruto’s waving goodbye to the others and following him, babbling away in his ear, but as they approach the corner and Sasuke’s forced to turn his eyes drift to her lithe, distracting legs and she crosses one in front of the other as he watches. He doesn’t miss the way the bright hem skims the muscle in her pale thigh or the serene, easy manner in which she twitches her white coat.

He lingers for a moment and finds her staring back with a soft smile trying for inscrutable, but failing to hide such unadorned affection.

Lips puffy, faintly painted in the shade of strawberry wine, knees still bright and pink.

#sasusaku #ssnsfw #psalloacappella #shut up and sit down sasuke

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

In our own image... (13)

Chapter 13

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 1800. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) Warnings: none.

Rey landed softly into a crouch, using a hand to stop her slide and looking up at Poe. The man grinned at her, holding his hands out in an invitation to hit him. She didn’t take it, stayed down while she scanned the area nearby.

They were in a small clearing at the edge of the forest. Away from the main thoroughfares but still on base. There wasn’t much nearby. A couple of chairs, a table, a crate, Finn. Seeing what she wanted her hand shot out, pulling with the Force and an empty mug knocked into the back of Poe’s head.

"Ow," he flinched at the contact, turning slightly and Rey moved, darting forward and sweeping her leg out. Poe went down. Hard.

"Oof," he gasped and Rey came to her feet, hands in a defensive position in front of her but Poe tapped the ground with one hand. "I’m out."

"Oh come on," Rey wheedled, watching as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "I barely hit you."

"You cheated," he pointed at her, looking around and then picking the mug up. He threw it at her and she caught it with a smile. "You’re a cheating cheater and I want nothing to do with you."

"You never said I couldn’t use the Force," she pointed out as Poe rose to his feet.

"I thought it was a given," he complained.

"Quit whining," she tossed the mug to the side, using her powers to try and set it down gently. And she did, kind of. The mug rattled onto its side but it did land where she wanted it to. "Another round and I promise no use of the Force."

Poe narrowed his eyes. "No lightsaber either."

"Of course not," she scoffed.

Poe still looked skeptical. Finally he sighed, "Rather than looking for loopholes, how about we just agree hand to hand combat only?"

"What about legs?" Finn asked. He was sitting to the side, feet propped up on a table and eating from a handkerchief full of nuts. "Can you use legs and feet?"

Poe raised an eyebrow at her and Rey nodded. Poe sighed. "Okay, just… bodies."

Rey heard Finn snort but kept her eyes on Poe. He was sweating, eyeing her as they circled each other. As she watched, his hands came up to hover around his shoulders and neck, his body twisting slightly to the side. A boxing stance. She grinned to herself.

Rey darted in, hand out to punch just below his ribcage but he blocked the move, twisting so she went by him. She dodged the foot he stuck out, trying to trip her. They went back to circling each other.

"You’ve got a tell," he said conversationally.

"What? I do not," Rey objected.

"You do," he countered, "Right shoulder moves when-"

He never even changed tone, gave no hint that he was going to swing at her. A swift uppercut that she barely skirted, placing herself within his reach. He caught her, one hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her back against him with an arm across her chest. "Give up?"

"You wish," she grunted, throwing her hip back and using his arm to flip him to the ground in front of her.

He hit with a loud "Oomph," his feet kicking up for a second before he settled down. Then he was motionless.

"Give up?" Rey asked, cocking an eyebrow. She looked over at Finn who grinned, giving her a thumbs up back. She noticed they had drawn a crowd, a couple of other pilots standing nearby. She turned back to Poe and her cocky look faded. He hadn’t moved.

"Poe?" He was completely still. She watched, looking for the rise and fall of his chest. "Poe are you-" As soon as she was close enough his hand darted out, pulling her ankle out from under her and tossing her to the ground next to him. They scrambled to their feet at the same time. Poe grinning as he crouched a few feet from her.

"That’s cheating," Rey spluttered.

"Finn?" Poe called out.

"Fair," Finn called back, licking bits of salt from his fingers. "Only bodies."

Rey glared at Poe’s smug look. Then she saw an opportunity over his shoulder. "Oh, hey. Kina’s watching." Poe froze and Rey could tell he wanted to turn, to see if she was there. "Hey Kina," she called out, never taking her eyes off Poe.

When Kina whistled back a greeting Poe’s eyes drifted from Rey. Just for a second. But it was all the time Rey needed to slip under his guard and have him face-down in the dirt, one arm twisted up behind him. He tapped the ground immediately and she let him go.

"You fight dirty," he bit out, spitting dirt.

"I learned it from you," she smiled back, offering him a hand up. He took it, continuing to mutter at her as he brushed dirt off his white tank. Rey looked past him and saw Finn’s nose crinkling in amusement. The pilots, Karé and Pava, both looked like they were hiding a laugh, and Kina… she had a hand over her mouth and a look of horror on her face.

"Did Friend Rey use Friend Kina for evil?" BB-8 beeped solemnly.

"No," Rey replied quickly.

"Yes," Poe said at the same time, glaring at her and crossing over to give Kina a quick kiss. The woman’s hands rose to his shoulders, brushing dirt off of him while he slipped an arm around her waist. "She absolutely used you for evil and should be ashamed of herself."

Rey rolled her eyes, "I did not."

But Poe wasn’t listening to her, was too busy looking into Kina’s eyes and running a finger down her cheek and Rey looked away from them. They were… she wasn’t jealous. She really wasn’t. But she also kind of was? It would be nice to have someone look at her the way those two looked at each other.

"Either of you want to have a chance?" Rey asked the two pilots. She didn’t bother with Finn. The former stormtrooper flatly refused to fight her.

"Oh no," Karé spread her hands wide and backed away from Rey. "I like my bones where they are."

"Jessika?" Rey asked with a hopeful look but the other woman just laughed.

"After the last time? No thank you," Pava rolled her shoulders. "I could use a good spar but not with you. Commander?"

"Mhmm?" Poe called back absently. Rey sighed and sank into a chair next to Finn, stealing part of his snack and popping it in her mouth.

"Wanna spar Commander?" Pava called out.

"No thank you," Poe still hadn’t taken his eyes off Kina and Rey heard Finn fake a gag next to her.

She elbowed him hard. "Stop it, they’re cute," she whispered.

"They’re obnoxious," Finn whispered back.

"What about me?" BB-8 whistled and the entire group turned to look at the little droid.

"What?" Pava asked, befuddled.

"What about me? I could use a spar." It was more clear this time that it was Kina talking, BB-8 translating for her.

"I don’t know…" Pava looked from Kina to BB-8 to Poe, eyebrows raised.

But Kina stepped into the small clearing Poe and Rey had been using, pulling her shirt off and tossing it to the side. Her chest wrappings were tight and she swung her arms a couple of times as though testing her range of movement. "Scared?"

Pava glared at BB-8 before stepping into the clearing, pushing her flight suit down around her waist and tying the arms tight.

"What is happening?" Finn whispered.

"I don’t know. But I’m kind of turned on," Poe whispered back and then grunted when Karé elbowed him in the stomach.

He glared at her but she gave him an innocent look. "Commander?"

"We’ll talk about that later," he pointed at her and then turned to the two women who were slowly circling each other.

Kina whistled and BB-8 replied, "I understand Friend Kina."

More whistles from Kina, they sounded mocking. Rey looked down at BB-8 but the droid was quiet. Looking back at the two Rey noticed that Kina’s face was hard, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. Pava must have noticed it too because in the same moment both women went for the other.

"Dank ferrick," Poe breathed.

They had similar styles. Rey wondered what the fight would have been like if they didn’t. Dozens of short stabbing hits landed on soft fleshy parts, organs, nerves. She heard Pava yelp in pain before the woman twisted and kneed Kina on the inner thigh, making her leg bow sideways.

They separated, eyeing each other warily. Kina whistled again, sounding angry.

"I don’t understand you," Pava bit off and Rey saw blood welling on the woman’s lip.

Kina’s grin in return was feral and then they were on each other again. For a moment Rey thought Pava had her, thought the headlock the woman had on Kina was going to be the end. But Kina did something, a twist of her body and then she was the one who had Pava in a tight headlock. One hand wrapped over the fist of the arm around Pava’s throat. Pava made a strangling noise, tapping Kina’s arm.

Kina didn’t move.

"Poe?" Rey asked warily, taking a step towards the pair.

"Shit," the man replied, striding into the clearing. He hooked his arms under Kina’s, forcing his hands between the droidsmith and Pava and then jerking her away. "Let her go, it’s done."

Rey gave them a concerned look but strode past them, kneeling to check on Pava who was rubbing her neck but looked otherwise okay. "What the hell?"

"I don’t know," Rey replied, looking over to where Poe was holding a struggling Kina. His arms were wrapped under hers and his hand locked behind her head - pressing the woman’s back to his chest. He was talking to her, but Rey couldn’t hear them. Whatever it was, Kina continued to fight him.

BB-8 was beeping and whistling wildly, spinning circles around the pair. "Friend Kina no. No Friend Kina. Stop!"

K-0 darted in - ramming Poe’s ankles and repeating, "Bad man," over and over. If the situation hadn’t been so serious Rey might have laughed.

"I knew she didn’t like me," Pava croaked, rubbing her throat. "Didn’t think she was murderous about it."

Rey held a hand out to the woman, helping her to her feet. "I don’t know," she raised an eyebrow at Poe who looked as confused as she felt. "I think this is bigger than you."

"Go," Poe barked, jerking Kina’s arms down and adjusting his grip. "Lieutenant Pava check in at med."

"I’m fine," the pilot started but a hard look from Poe silenced her. "Yes sir."

Rey watched Poe frog-march Kina into the trees, out of sight. She considered following them but felt a hand on her arm.

"Let them work it out first," Finn cautioned and Rey nodded. Instead, they walked with Pava and Karé to med.

"Bet you wish now you’d sparred with me," Rey said after a silent minute.

"Noted. I’ll remember for next time," Pava replied with a hoarse laugh.

Chpt 14

#in our own image #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron/ ofc #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron

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legolaslovely · 5 years

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Watch Me

A/N: UGH FILIIIIIIIIIII he just really kills me sometimes, okay? Hope you guys enjoy the Fili feels. Happy FILI FRIDAY! And yes, here’s this picture again.

Pairing: Fili x Reader DUH

Word Count: 2,693

Warnings: fluff, angst, SMUT OOPS, unwanted advances/flirting/assault towards reader, hero Fili

Summary: I don’t frickin know just read it lol. Hero Fili, slightly stalker Fili, protective Fili, smut with an actual plot.

Fili often came to this bar alone at night. It was starting to raise questions from his uncle, but he ignored them. As far as anyone else was concerned, he just needed a drink after an exhausting day of duties that came with being born the heir to the kingdom. No one needed to know why he really came.

He would always sit on the end of the bar with his back against the wall. This way, he could watch her but he’d never have to actually talk to her because he was being served by the bartender and not the beautiful waitress he’d taken a fancy to. Talking would cause problems. He knew simply sitting here eyeing her every night was also causing problems, but he ignored that fact as well.

He nursed his mug of ale and watched the human woman glide through the bar. Her hips easily slid between chairs and tables and her lips smiled and greeted everyone around her who asked especially for her service instead of anyone else’s. He watched her carry trays full of food or balance many hot plates on her arms. He didn’t doubt her muscles were lean and strong under her clothes and her arms and fingers were calloused from burning plates. Sometimes after one too many mugs of drink he allowed himself to think of what her hands could do besides carry a table full of glasses at a time.

He watched her whirl when a patron in the corner called her name. (Y/N). It fell from Fili’s lips often when he was alone. When she turned, her hair followed her, spreading out into a wide, shining curtain before falling to her back again. She had long hair for a human, he thought.

She bent to pick up a knife from the floor and he turned, adjusted himself in the tall seat and ordered another drink. He spent the night sipping from his mug and drinking from her until the bartender sounded the last call. He watched her shoulders drop in relief. He was sure she was exhausted. He turned his back to the rest of the pub and paid his tab as most of the patrons left.

“Come on, (Y/N). Come home with me. You’re done here and you know you want to.”

Fili recognized the voice. It came from a human who bothered (Y/N) a couple times a week. He’d pinch her or grab her, she’d slap him and kick him out, and Fili’s blood would boil. Why was the idiot allowed back? Fili had always kept his distance, knowing (Y/N) could handle herself or some other human would step in, but now there was barely anyone else around. He watched carefully.

“In your dreams,” she said, circling the table and getting far away from him. “Go home, Buck. You’re drunk. Again.” She looked to the bar and when she saw the tender was gone, she quickly grabbed some empty glasses and sped to the kitchen door.

Buck grabbed her and spun her into him, making the glasses in her hands clink together. “No, no. I said you’re coming with me.” He towered over her. He took the glasses from her with a nasty grin and set them down on the table below. Then he grabbed her bottom and she slapped him.

“Get off me.” Her voice was low and fearless.

He pushed her against the wall and put a hand to her throat. “Is that any way to speak to me?”

“She speaks to you the way she pleases. Let her go. Now,” Fili said from the man’s side.

Buck chuckled and looked over Fili’s head. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard something. But I don’t see anything here.” He swept his hand through the air at his eye level, over Fili’s head. Fili grabbed it and twisted it behind Buck’s back until he heard the bones crack and the man yelp.

“I said let her go,” Fili said, his voice and eyes feral.

“Get off of me, dwarf. You don’t belong here.” He swore and said a nasty, racial slur in Khuzdul that Fili was surprised a human even knew.

“Shut up, you disgusting, worthless brute,” (Y/N) said, spitting in Buck’s face. She grunted when his grip around her throat tightened.

Before Buck could answer, Fili reached up and slugged him across the face with the head of his dagger. He caught (Y/N) and let Buck fall to the ground hard. Fili grabbed the man by his tunic and snarled in his face. “If I ever see you in this pub again, I will not hesitate to rip your throat out.” He let him go with a shove and watched him run out the door of the tavern, letting it slam shut after him.

Fili returned to (Y/N), putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “Are you all right?” She nodded wildly with a tight jaw. He’d never seen her unsure of herself and he felt his heart sink. His fingers ran down her arm and he squeezed her hand before letting her go. “He’s gone now. He won’t be bothering you again.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you- thank you for that. I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

“And you’re bleeding,” she said, looking at his other hand. When Fili hit the man with his dagger, the blade had slipped and cut his palm.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket. “Nothing to fret about. I’ll leave you, let you finish your work so you can go home.”

She grabbed him. “No, no. I won’t send you away like this after saving me. Sit.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit, please.”

He sat.

“What the hell happened in here?” a voice boomed from the bar. The tender had his arms stretched out as he took in the broken chair in the corner.

(Y/N) turned and looked at him with a tilted head. “Nice of you to show up, Rava! I really could have used you five minutes ago.”

“What happened?” Rava asked.

“While you were doing god knows what, my hero here, saved the day. Buck’s gone for good, no thanks to you. Will you please bring me the kit from the kitchen?”

He disappeared. (Y/N) turned back to Fili with a smirk on her face as she pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

“Is that what you deal with every day?” he asked.

She pulled the soiled, silk handkerchief from his hand and set it on the table, twisting his palm in the low light to get a look at the injury. “I’m sure you deal with the same kind of thing in that mountain of yours, Prince.”

His brows flew high. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. A girl asks questions when a guy comes in just to watch her every night.” Her intense gaze rose and her smirk deepened as she watched his cheeks grow pink above his thick beard.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to disrespect-”

“I know. Don’t worry, I can tell the difference between a creep and a good man… good dwarf in this case.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but Rava’s appearance through the swinging kitchen door silenced him. The other human placed a small kit of bandages and ointments on the table next to (Y/N). She rose and stalked, hips swaying, to the bar to fill a bowl with warm water.

Rava cleared his throat, picking up the pieces of the broken chair. “So, are you gonna be here for a while?” he asked her.

“Rava, just go home. I’ll clean and lock up. Leave the keys on the table.”

He thanked her and practically ran out the door. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and sat in front of Fili again, taking his hand in hers. He marveled at her soft touch. It was much different than he’d expected- than he’d dreamed. She cleaned his wound with a tender touch.

“Not even a flinch,” she said.

“Hm? Oh, I’ve had much worse than this,” he said.

“I’ve heard the stories. You dwarfs have brave hearts.”

He searched for a smirk or sarcasm in her voice but didn’t find it. When her eyes rose from his hand, they were soft and round as they peered at him, waiting for some kind of response.

“You show little fear yourself. I’ve seen these men pick on you often and most of the time, you easily match them. It’s very- impressive.” He picked his word carefully, changing it from attractive, tempting, alluring, sexy.

She hummed. “Most of the time.” She dipped a finger into a jar of ointment and smothered his gash as if she were painting a picture or running her hand along the petals of a flower. “Tonight I was absolutely terrified. If you weren’t here, if you didn’t do what you did… I don’t even want to think of what could have happened. You saved me. I don’t know how to thank you.” Her fingers froze as she took him in. In the low light, his eyes glowed with a piercing blue and his golden mane shone red at the edges. His face alone was a stunning summer day’s sky.

“I’m just glad you’re all right.”

She wrapped his palm with a bandage and knotted it. Though she was finished, she held onto his hand. “More than all right.” She kissed his lips softly, then drew away. She smiled as it took a moment for Fili to open his eyes. She waited for him to make a move, to kiss her again, but it didn’t come. “Is that all I get? You watch me for months and here we are alone and I only get one kiss-”

He leaned forward, held her under her thighs and pulled her to his lap, gluing his lips to hers. He swallowed her noise of surprise and felt her lips flatten into a smile against him. Her breath hitched. “Handsome, sweet, and strong,” she muttered. She said it more to herself than to him but he chuckled and growled, pulling her hips down on him. She whimpered. “And hard,” she whispered.

He hummed, allowing his tongue to ravage her mouth in his wild, passionate, possessive kiss. “I am every time I leave this pub.” He never would have suspected the noise that escaped her. It was soft, submissive and needy. She was putty in his hands. His scalding mouth made its way to her ear and down her neck. “I want you,” he said.

“I’m all yours.”

He yanked her tunic over her head, hearing the fabric rip in the process. His large, strong hands burned her body as they traveled over her hips, her waist, up her sides and to her breasts. Her head fell back as he cupped them, twisting her nipples in a firm grip of his fingers. He pulled a moan from her and it went straight to his trousers.

Whispered curses fell from her lips as his tongue licked a stripe up the center of her chest and circled her erect nipple. He expected her to be rough, to yank and pull on his hair and cry out with a volume that echoed off the walls. But here she was, in his hands, whimpering with breathy moans and carding her fingers gently through his hair. He had been all wrong and this was better than anything he could have imagined.

Her fingers found the hem of his tunic and she pulled it away. She smiled and shook her head as her hands brushed through the golden curls on his strong chest. “My god, are you all this beautiful?” She grinned when he laughed, feeling it rumble through him.

She sank to the floor between his legs. Her fingers ran over his cheeks as she pulled him down to kiss her, then her lips traveled down his neck. His breathing grew heavy when she spent extra time around his chest and stomach. The further south she fell, the more his growls vibrated in her bones.

Her hands raked up his thighs from his knees to his belt. She watched his eyes as she undid the laces of his trousers and his red, dripping member sprang loose. Her breath caught in her lungs. She took him in her hand and knew right away dwarfs were bigger than humans. It sent a shiver to her core and she squeezed her thighs together. Fili didn’t miss her movement.

He kissed her, moaning into her mouth as she stroked him. When he released her lips, they moved to suck the tip of him. Breath shot into his lungs and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her smile, her tongue circle him and lick up his length, and her pink lips envelope him and reach the base of his shaft. Her head bobbed until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed her now.

“Come, my dear,” he said, lifting her chin and kissing her. He groaned when he tasted himself on her talented tongue.

She stood and allowed his deft fingers to unlace her trousers, letting them fall to the ground. She stepped out of them and gladly returned to his lap, rolling her hips on him. He cursed when he felt how warm, wet and ready she was for him. He cupped her bottom and squeezed, making her chuckle before she rose to take him inside her. When he was completely sheathed in her heat, she sucked in a gasp. He was stretching her and already, his member was rubbing every hidden, delicious corner inside her. She rocked her hips and bent to kiss Fili’s shoulder, moaning against his skin.

His mouth fell open when he felt her juices dripping as she slid up and down on his cock. He worked to meet her every thrust, pulling her hips down on him when she could take it. He knew he was pushing her to her limits. His lips attacked hers as his hands cupped her face, her breasts, her hips. Every noise she made reverberated and repeated in his brain and he worked to memorize each one. His thumb found her clit and she lost all strength in her legs. All she could do was rock against him and moan into his skin. She sang his name again and again and he lost his control.

He slid down in the chair, allowing him to thrust up into her with more vigor. His thumb worked circles on her as he pounded into her hard. She cursed, huffing and moaning breathily into his ear. She begged him to finish her, then to claim her. “Please, Fili. Oh, god, please.”

Her hips started to roll and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held onto him. He was the only thing keeping her grounded as she reached her high. Her muscles tensed and fluttered around him, sending him to his own end and he grunted into her neck as she collapsed on top of him.

His chest heaved as he landed, his breath fanning over her skin and making her shiver. He reached for his tunic and slid it over her head, then wrapped his arms around her, stroking her skin and holding her tight. He decided he would never let go.

“I hope you’re not doing this just because, I mean, I hope this isn’t some sort of- repayment- just because of what I- of what happened with Buck,” Fili got out.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Oh, no, sweetheart. Seeing you at the bar is the only thing I like about this awful job. You’re not the only one who’s been going home hungry all this time.” Her fingers slid though the beard on his cheek as she kissed him.

“All this time?”

She hummed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I knew you’d make a move sooner or later.” She grinned and kissed him again, feeling him growl against her lips. “And I like it when you watch me.”

“Expect much more of it,” he said, pulling her down on him again and listening to her laugh.

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#fili #fili x reader #protective!fili #the hobbit #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fic #fluff #fili fluff #smut #fili smut

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blkmxrvel · 4 years

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Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (16) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

“Come here.”

She shook her head. “Please, Sir, I don’t want to.”

Her eyes were fixed on what he held in his hand. The end of it glowed white hot, casting an eerie shine on his smiling face. Feral.

His smile left in an instant. “I said, come here. You’re my bitch, you do what I say.” He waved the rod. “And this will make it permanent.”

She scrambled backwards, scarcely able to do so with her wrists bound to her ankles. She was nearly hogtied, helpless, and there was nowhere to go except further back into the wall that she pressed up against. She wished with all her might that it would open up and swallow her.

The wall didn’t open up, but her mouth did. “No.”

Time stood still. The earth froze and so did he, so did she, locked in the staring of disbelief and anger. He advanced towards her.

“You stupid slut.” Her head rocked sideways with the force of the slap, then back as he sent another. “You will never, ever say no to me again.”

His hand to her throat held her against the wall as his other hand brought the rod closer. She felt its heat touch her skin like a kiss from the devil himself.

Y/N screamed.

“What do you think you might like for dinner?”

She shrugged. “Just whatever.”

From the doorway of the kitchen, Miss Kara turned to look at her. “Are you all right, Y/N? You seem rather tense.”

“I’m fine.”

The nightmare had woken her up at 4 a.m. The morning before that, it had been 2 a.m. And before that, three. And each time, Y/N hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.She’d talked to her therapist about them before, but no amount of deep breathing exercises, no warm milk or bath, no calming music had been able to stop them. Although the calming music might have been a problem; she’d asked Miss Kara for some cds, and maybe going to sleep to Seventy Six Trombones wasn’t helping.

The nightly phone calls and texts from Miss Kara, though, those did help. After every nightmare, when she’d lay in her bed at Nia’s unable to sleep, Y/N would grab her phone and read the texts with a small smile on her face. Full of smiles, good cheer, and little stars, Miss Kara’s messages were comforting, and Y/N would soon find herself curled on her side with the phone held close to her. It wasn’t Miss Kara’s hand in hers, like that first night, but it was something.

But she was tired. She sat on the couch in Miss Kara’s house, aimlessly flipping through the TV channels, trying to settle on something, and she couldn’t. Her eyes burned, her hands shook as she held the remote, and her mind was full of the images from her past. Images that weren’t forgotten, but had mercifully been pushed back in favor of Alex and Maggie, Theo and Nia, soft pillows with warm blankets tucked around her and Miss Kara’s lips on hers.

They’d kissed more since their “first date” a few days ago; shy, awkward brushes of lips against lips, Y/N never having known what a gentle kiss felt like, and Miss Kara afraid to cross already tenuous boundaries. It frustrated her even as it made her feel safe; there were things going on in Y/N’s mind and heart (and her body, if she was being honest) every time she kissed Miss Kara that confused her. But Miss Kara always had the power to bring her back to herself with just a touch of her hand on Y/N’s cheek. With a smile.

A smile that now seemed strained as she came back from the kitchen and sat next to Y/N on the couch. She glanced out the window, at the rain that fell hard and heavy against the glass. “It’s a day for comfort food,” she announced. “Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, what do you think of that?”

“Like I said, just whatever.”

If she’d glanced over, Y/N would have seen a twitch in Miss Kara’s face as her jaw tightened, but she didn’t tear her eyes away from the television as she finally paused on cartoons. She’d always liked them when she was little, and the fact that James had liked some of them too, and she’d get to catch a glimpse of them every now and then, was one thing to be grateful for.

The only thing.

Yesterday, Y/N’s therapist had warned her against getting “too far inside her own head.” “It’s good that you’re thinking,” Miss Grant had said, “Good that you’re starting to work through things. But remember to put aside past Y/N sometimes and just be Y/N.” She’d tried to drive home the point by making Y/N write a list of things she liked, now that she was on her own and could discover for herself. Y/N had come up with five things. Miss Kara. Miss Kara’s cooking. Miss Kara’s house. Reading books with Miss Kara. Seeing Maggie and Alex with Miss Kara.

Cat had looked at the list, and then brought out another blank piece of paper. “Now write things you like that don’t include Miss Kara.” Y/N had glared at her, but the message was loud and clear.

So was Nia’s message about the grocery store, when yesterday Y/N had found herself standing at the door of one, staring in at the seemingly endless aisles of things she didn’t know. Her first instinct was to turn around and get back in the taxi, because it was too much; she had no idea where to get started. Her heart thumped wildly and her breath came hard and fast as she’d walked through the sliding doors.

She’d come home with a pack of bacon, a box of Lucky Charms cereal, and a bone to give to Theo the next day. Nia had hugged her, beaming and effusive with her congratulations. Miss Kara had chuckled on the phone, telling her that Theo was going to get far too spoiled. And Y/N had felt awkwardly proud, and more than a little scared.

“What would you do if you let go of all the pain he’s caused you, all of the memories, and just gave in to the happiness?” Cat had asked her.

Y/N didn’t have an answer.

“If there’s something else you’d rather have, Y/N, you can tell me. I assure you I won’t be offended if you reject my culinary offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help it; she rolled her eyes. She loved Miss Kara’s voice more than anything, and she couldn’t wait for the time when maybe, maybe, Miss Kara might sing for her. She’d heard little snatches of it in the last week, Kara humming in the kitchen or singing softly to herself as she did paperwork for the department. And her voice was… magical. It was as if everything stopped for her when Miss Kara spoke, or when she heard those soft little tunes sung absently around a pen jammed in her mouth.

But Y/N was tired and Miss Kara sometimes used a lot of words to say, well, not much of anything.

“I said it was fine, Miss Kara.”

“And it’s clearly not,” Miss Kara said, and this time her lyrical voice had an edge to it. Y/N tensed with a little shiver running up her spine. “You’re clearly not fine, and I’m just trying to make sure you choose what you want.”

“Well, I don’t want to choose,” Y/N snapped before she could stop herself. “Maybe I just want you to fix something and not force me to make up my own mind.”

There was silence, and out of the corner of her eye Y/N could see Miss Kara pinch the bridge of her nose. She heard a breath of frustration being let out, and finally, Miss Kara said quietly, “Y/N, sweetheart, I know you’ve been having a rough week but I really don’t think taking it out on me is the solution, for either of us.”

“Then do something about it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, do something about it. Punish me.”

What was she doing? Y/N asked herself. This was too much, she’d pushed too hard. Images began to flash through her mind again. Herself, bent over. A belt, lashing across her bottom and her thighs. A rough hand in her hair, holding her in position as the belt was relentless in its cuts. Only when she lifted her head, when she forced back against the hand holding her to look, it wasn’t James behind her. It was Miss Kara. Y/N felt herself begin to shake; she wrapped her arms around herself.

She turned on the couch to face Miss Kara, who was staring at her with her mouth slightly dropped open. Y/N steeled herself, not sure if she should wait for harsh and angry words to come tumbling out that same mouth, or if Miss Kara was going to drag Y/N over her lap.

“Absolutely not.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Miss Kara stood up and then sat back down, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “I am not going to punish you.”

“So you’d just let your submissive speak to you that way?”

Miss Kara looked at Y/N, and the expression on her face made Y/N swallow hard. “You can be sure,” she said evenly, “That if my submissive were to speak to me with the manner in which you’ve been speaking to me today, they would learn a swift lesson about why it’s unacceptable.”

“Well, then—“

“What would you have me do, Y/N? Get out a paddle?” Y/N froze; she stared wide-eyed at Kara. “Do you want me to drape you over the back of this couch and whip you? Put you in the corner? Humiliate you? Because if that’s what you’re hoping for, if that’s what prompted this behavior—“

“It’s not!” She felt suddenly frantic; this wasn’t what she’d intended at all, and now Miss Kara was acting as if Y/N had manipulated her. But she’d thought it was just a simple request… “I wouldn’t do that to you, Miss Kara. I’m just… you said you wouldn’t let your submissive talk to you that way.”

“You’re not my submissive.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Y/N bit out, her hands clenching into fists and digging into her thighs. “You keep reminding me of it at every point.”

She saw Miss Kara close her eyes and reopen them, before she reached out and gently untangled Y/N’s hands, holding them in hers. “Sweetheart,” she said, and the tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes at the softness of the word, at the care and the small touch of disappointment in it.

She’d made Miss Kara disappointed in her. And that was worse than any blow, any mark. Miss Kara had been so good to her, and Y/N had been a complete brat, just because she was tired, just because she was cranky.

“Y/N, I know that this dynamic is strange for you. It’s strange for me too, it’s very hard for me to… well, not be dominant with you.”

Y/N tilted her head and looked at Miss Kara; she imagined it looked a lot like Theo, when he was confused. “It is?”

“It is,” Miss Kara nodded. “But sweetheart, you’ve been through some of the most horrific experiences a person should never have to go through. You’re still learning about yourself, about what you like and what you want. I want you to see what life is like when you can have your own choices.”

Y/N let out what sounded like a growl and got to her feet, beginning to pace around the floor. “Everyone keeps saying that. ‘Make your own choices, Y/N.’ ‘Do what you want, Y/N, not what someone tells you to do.’ ‘A good Dominant would never be like him, Y/N.’” She whirled around to face Kara again, her fists once again clenched.

“How do I know what a good Dominant is if no one will dominate me?”

“Y/N—“

“No!” The word spilled out of her with more force than Y/N had ever felt, except for that night months ago. She began to shake again, but she tensed her muscles and held her ground. She took a deep breath… and deflated immediately. The tears began to course down her cheeks.

“Everyone keeps telling me what a good Dominant is. What a good Dominant will say, what a good Dominant will do… and then they tell me – you tell me, I can’t have one. I have to choose, everyone says. You, Nia, Alex and Maggie, Miss Grant. I have to choose what I want. But to do that I have to ignore who I am.”

Miss Kara was silent, staring up at her, and for a split second Y/N was confused. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Y/N was stood there, the words tumbling out of her in a rush and all Miss Kara was doing was watching her.

… listening.

No one had ever really listened to Y/N before, except for maybe her grandfather. And that had seemed so long ago. Her parents hadn’t, James certainly never had. But now, here was Miss Kara, looking at her and quietly waiting… It hit Y/N like cold water, and then it was as if she’d never be able to give voice to all of the thoughts coursing around in her head.

“I’m not your submissive, Miss Kara, I understand that, I do. And I-I would never manipulate you into dominating me, I’m not like that but I am submissive. And… and nobody seems to remember that.”

Miss Kara shook her head. “It’s not that we don’t remember, Y/N, it’s just that you’ve had your choices taken away for so long—“

“But what if that is my choice?” Y/N protested. “What if at the end of… all this,” She gestured around Miss Kara’s house. “What if at the end of my time at Nia’s, after all my therapy, maybe when I move into my own place and-and I don’t know, get a job, what if I still want to be submissive? What if my choice is to be dominated, to be punished when I’m bad—“

“Hold on,” Miss Kara held out her hand, palm up. “I’m going to stop you there for a moment. I know that he said horrible things to you, but let me say this now: no matter what behavior you exhibit, you are not bad. Your choices might sometimes be unfortunate, but you are not bad.”

Y/N wasn’t sure she believed that. How many times had she heard James say those words to her, while he was beating her?

Bad girl.

Bad slut.

Stupid, bad bitch.

Every single day. Every possible moment. His words were like a mantra of negativity, a list of everything that was wrong with her. Never once had he said “good girl” to her. The first time anyone had said it to her was when Miss Kara had given her a bath. And even though Y/N had had to ask for it, Miss Kara had said it so many times since then, for no reason at all other than she actually believed Y/N was a good girl…

“Y/N, come sit down, please.” Kara patted next to her on the couch.

Y/N hesitated, and then sat. “It’s all gone,” she whispered. “All of it. I-I mean I don’t hurt anymore, the bruises are gone and even the scars are fading thanks to that cream you got me but… so’s everything else.” She turned to Kara, and smiled a little when Kara lifted her hands and brushed Y/N’s tears away with her thumbs.

“Everything I know is gone. I don’t even have a home of my own, Miss Kara. And I don’t have anyone to… to help me do what’s right, to teach me and guide me. I-I know no one wants me to be hurt again but how am I supposed to know what a good Dominant is like if no one will be that for me? How am I supposed to choose between being submissive and… not living that way anymore, if I don’t know what it’s like to be submissive to someone who’s good? Someone like you?”

“It’s too much,” Y/N confessed. “Choose what I want to wear, choose what I want to have for dinner, where I want to go, what I want to do, what I want to think, what I want to say. I-it’s easy for everyone else, I guess, maybe it’s just stupid—“

“You are not stupid, and I don’t want you to say that again.”

Y/N smiled a little. “I don’t have any control, Miss Kara. And I want it. I need it. I-it’s all gone,” she said again. “My rules, what’s expected of me, and maybe I do need to learn to make choices but what if it’s my choice to be… to be little? To be taken care of, to be taught, to be controlled? I need… I need to feel safe. I need someone to guide me. I need someone to dominate me.” She turned to look at Kara. “I need it to be you. Please.”

Miss Kara leaned over and kissed Y/N gently.

“No.”

“Miss Kara—“

“No.” Miss Kara got up and stood in front of Y/N, looking down at her. She felt herself tense, and Miss Kara smiled sadly.

“You look scared,” she said. “You look scared, and it’s just me; I would hope you’d know that I’d never hurt you. But I’m also a Dominant, and thatis what scares you.” Miss Kara shook her head. “I know that all of this is very frightening to you and unknown, but you’re doing so well, Y/N. You’re adjusting, you’re learning, and I am so proud of you.”

Y/N blushed and ducked her head. She was beginning to realize just how much she loved it, how much she craved to see Miss Kara smiling at her with those sparkling brown eyes, telling her proud she was of her. And Miss Kara was always so beautiful, whether she was dressed up in her work clothes or as she was now, in a simple pair of sleep pants and a tank top. This was the thing that was warring inside Y/N the most: she wanted to be like those birds outside, free to go wherever she pleased, whenever she pleased.

But then there was Miss Kara, with her soft smile and her laugh, the gentle way she ran her hand through Y/N’s hair just now even as Y/N’s heart was breaking. And Y/N wanted nothing more than to be on her knees for this woman, arms wrapped around Miss Kara’s stomach in adoration, doing whatever she could to please Miss Kara, to make her happy, to hear those few words that meant everything.

You’re such a good girl, Y/N. My good girl.

“You’re learning, and pretty soon it’s not going to be so scary and you’re going to love it. You’re going to discover so many things, about life and about yourself. And if you decide you want to be submissive, then that’s okay. But right now, you’re not ready.”

“When will I ever be ready?” Y/N asked bitterly. “Everyone else seems to know I’m not ready, should I wait for them to make the decision for me?”

“And that’s exactly what I mean,” Miss Kara said. “You want the authority, but you’re still struggling against it. You want the punishment, but the idea of me taking you over my knee or pulling you over the arm of this couch and disciplining you until you cry scares you. The very idea of a Dominant scares you, Y/N. And until it doesn’t, we can’t. We just can’t, sweetheart.”

“How can I stop being scared if you don’t give me a reason not to be?”

Miss Kara sighed, her hand still lightly tangling in Y/N’s hair, fingernails absently scratching at Y/N’s scalp like she’d done that day when giving her a bath. “It’s quite possible I’m not the person for you, Y/N. It’s entirely possible that somewhere down the road you will find the perfect Dominant for you, the one who is everything you need and more.”

“Neither one of us know until we try.”

“And I could get in trouble!” Y/N winced when Kara snapped, and Miss Kara moved to kiss her quickly. “There are rules in the department against this sort of thing, Y/N,” Miss Kara explained. “I am already on very thin ice maintaining a friendship with you while you are still in recovery; and now we’re dating?”

Y/N knew what Miss Kara was saying was seriously, but still she felt her blush deepen at the words. They were dating.

“The department prefers that recovering submissives stay in the company of other subs until their therapy is complete. Just because they don’t want the subs becoming influenced. If the department finds out we’re dating, that’s one thing. If I started dominating you and the department found out, Y/N, I don’t want to think about what could happen.”

“They’d hurt you?” Y/N said, her voice high and alarmed.

Miss Kara hugged her. “You see, that’s always your first instinct, is that you or someone will be hurt. No, sweetheart, they couldn’t hurt me, but I could lose my job. And I need it.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you’d go to New York and sing like you want to.”

Miss Kara’s eyes flashed. “We are not talking about this right now; in fact I’ll thank you not to bring that up again.”

She had told Y/N, late one night on the phone, again about how her father had gotten ill and how she had put off going to school in New York. Y/N had caught the wistfulness in Miss Kara’s voice, had wondered what was holding her back now. Miss Kara had only said that she had work in Lima to do. “Maybe someday,” she’d said, and quickly changed the subject.

“Why not?” Y/N countered. “Afraid that I’ll start talking about you not being ready? You keep saying that I’m not ready because I’m scared, well, you’re scared to. I don’t see why we can’t be scared together. Who knows, I might not be the only one who learns about herself.”

“We are done with this segment of the conversation,” Miss Kara said. “And I do believe that this entire conversation needs to be closed. I am not going to dominate you, Y/N. I’m sorry, but that’s final.”

She didn’t know what to say, then. The tears had stopped but were on the edge of falling again, and Y/N stared wordlessly at the television, at the cartoon cat constantly being foiled by the mouse. She wondered which one she was in this game called her life: the cat or the mouse. She looked up when Miss Kara’s voice found her again.

“What do you say we have those sandwiches now?”

“I think I should go.”

Miss Kara stopped and turned, her face falling. “O-oh,” she said, sounding shaky. “If that’s what you want to do, of course.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to do. What she wanted was for Miss Kara to tell her not to leave, to tell her to sit down and have her sandwich and stop being ridiculous. She wanted Miss Kara to put her in the corner, or pull up her baby doll dress and spank her for being such a brat earlier. She could handle the pain, if it was Miss Kara. She wanted Miss Kara to pull her into her lap and rock her as she cried, to tell her that she’d been brave, she’d taken her punishment well, and that she was a good girl.

But there would be none of that.

Y/N stood up. “I-I’m just going to go back to Nia’s and read.”

Miss Kara nodded slowly, and Y/N’s heart sank when she saw a tear streak down her cheek. “Okay, sw- Y/N.” Y/N winced, and the pain only got worse at what she said next. “You’ll call me later?”

Miss Kara. The Dominant. The sweet, caring, gentle, perfect person. Asking if Y/N would call her. Asking, when all she wanted was to be told.

“Maybe tomorrow, Kara.”

There was a hitch of breath, a stifled sob, and Kara nodded again. “Right, that’s... that’s… I’ll just call the taxi.” She did so quickly, and then came back to Y/N. “Oh, here.” She picked up Y/N’s coat from where it lay on the arm of the couch. “It’s still raining; you need to put this on.”

The tears were falling again as Y/N allowed Kara to put the coat on her; Kara’s hands were gentle, fastening each button and adjusting the coat’s collar against Y/N’s neck. She hesitated, then tipped herself up to kiss Y/N’s forehead. Kara managed a smile, though it wavered, and she squeezed Y/N’s arm.

“C-can’t have you catching cold out there. I… I need you to be warm.”

“Thank you…”

They stood there saying nothing, standing together awkwardly with Kara’s hand on Y/N’s arm, until a car horn outside signaled the arrival of the taxi.

“A-are we going to be all right?” Y/N asked, looking toward the door then back at Kara.

“I don’t know,” Kara said. “I hope so… but I don’t know.”

In the taxi, the driver looked at Y/N in the rearview mirror. “You okay kid?”

“Just take me home,” Y/N sniffled, not able to wipe her eyes fast enough as the tears fell. “I’m fine.”

#kara danvers x reader #kara danvers #supergirl #supergirl x reader #kara zor el #kara zor el x reader #madi converts

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screensirenfic · 4 years

Text

Black Leather - Chapter 38 Warnings: Violence against women and children

Only two minutes had passed, but already I knew it was too fucking long of a time for Steve to be left alone with Billy.

Putting the two of them together was like putting matches to gasoline, and I really had to get out there before someone got turned into a meat stack; that someone most likely to be Steve in this situation.

I crouched next to the lock of the door, pulling a bobby pin from my hair and wedging it into the lock.

Part of the benefits of having a cop for a father meant you had lots of easy access to handcuffs, and I was proud to say, lock picking was one of those skills I’d managed to just pick up over the years.

Luck for me; Mrs Byers only invested in the cheap kind of locks, and jury rigging the mechanism was easier than I thought.

The lock slid open with a satisfying click, and I opened the door, walking out to where the kids were hidden behind the bulk of the sofa.

“Where’s Steve—“ I asked; only to be interrupted by the resounding crash of the door being kicked in.

Billy.

He stormed into the room like a man on a warpath; fists clenched at his sides as if ready for a fight.

“Billy; what have you done to Steve—“ The question slipping out as soon as it popped into my mind; me marching towards him, because If he’d done anything to him, I swear to god I’ll—

UMFFF!

All words were stolen from my mouth as I felt Billy’s hand locking around my neck.

“You think this is fucking funny?” He growled, using his leverage around my throat to back me into a wall; his fingers digging into my skin with threatening pressure.

I didn’t answer; the sound of my pulse too loud in my ears, because I couldn’t breathe! He was fucking choking me!

My hands shot up to where he held my neck in a vicelike grip, nails trying to pry his fingers off me.

“You think you can go fuck around with Harrington behind my back, like I’m some fucking chump—“ He sneered, slamming my head painfully against the wall as he tightened his grip.

“Billy— you’re— hurting— me—“ I managed to croak, pulling at his hand more desperately because I could honestly see it getting darker in here.

“You’ll be hurting a lot more if I find out you’ve been fucking Harring—“

“Leave her alone!” Yelled a voice, but I couldn’t make out who’s; my head already light and getting lighter by the second.

Billy turned his head, loosening his grip ever so slightly, allowing some of the blood to rush back to my head.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise...” His spat, taking the opportunity to let go of my neck to confront him.

I immediately fell to the floor, coughing and gasping as air rushed back into my lungs; oblivion finally fended off by sweet oxygen.

I gulped it down, vaguely aware of Billy talking to the kids somewhere in the room opposite, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying; my head still too fuzzy to focus.

Once I’d managed to level out my breathing; the flow of oxygen feeling like needles in my throat, I shakily propped myself up so I could reorientate myself.

I could hear threats now, and voices which I think sounded like Lucas and Max as I rubbed at a wet patch at the back of my head, struggling to stay sat up as I fended off a wave of dizziness that threatened to make me puke.

I pulled my hand away, only to see red.

I was bleeding.

Suddenly, I heard a loud SLAM; and I had hope for a minute that it might be Steve coming to the rescue, but then I heard the kids shouting.

“Let him go!”

“Billy-“

“Get off me-“

The words blended into one, but I didn’t need to hear them to tell the kids were in trouble.

I attempted to push myself to my feet, only to fail miserably and stumble back down onto my ass.

Where the fuck was Steve?!

He should be back here by now!

Unless...

I tried not to dwell on the thought; my stomach churning at the possibilities-

But no; I couldn’t afford to think like that right now.

Those kids needed me!

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me; maybe you will: you stay away from her!” Threatened Billy; and I could hear the aggression in his voice, the very real threat that he might hit a child.

I could see his shape through the doorway, holding Lucas a foot off the ground by the collar; the kids gathering around in protest, but all of them too scared to intervene.

“STAY AWAY FROM HER! You hear me?!” Billy continued to bellow, shaking Lucas hard against the shelf with every word, and I dared to look at the front door with no luck.

Come on; come on, Steve!

“I said — GET OFF!!” Yelled Lucas; finally managing to kick up at Billy and land him straight between the legs.

He dropped the kid like a bag of rocks, and stumbled back, clutching at his bruised manhood.

Shit! This wasn’t going to end well.

My eyes quickly scanned the room for something; anything, to distract Billy, before landing on my shotgun left disregarded on the floor.

It would have to do.

“Oh; Sinclair - you’re dead! You’re so dead-“ He roared, gearing up to attack the kid as he straightened up, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Chh Chh!

“You first.” I responded coldly; already standing unsteadily on my feet with the cocked shotgun trained on the back of his head.

Billy froze; just like Tommy had in the parking lot last year, and for a moment I thought that was enough.

Then I heard a deep throaty chuckle that made my veins run like ice and my palms grow sweaty.

Billy turned slowly; that slightly feral look in his eyes as he grinned viciously at me.

“I should’ve guessed you’d get back up...” He remarked, looking absolutely unfazed by the fact I had a shotgun levelled at his skull.

“Billy; I’m gonna give you one last chance to leave peacefully—“ I warned, tightening my grip around the barrel of the gun.

“Nice try, sweetheart; but we’ve had this conversation before...” He interrupted me in a low gravelly tone, as he slowly began to advance on me without a hint of fear of the gun in my hands.

“And we both know how that went; don’t we?”

“Billy; I’m not fucking around. I will shoot you...” I promised; trying not to let my hands shake, because goddamnit; I wasn’t scared, but I don’t know if I could shoot a man, let alone one I might’ve had feelings for.

“You know; I don’t think you will...” Billy flashed me a sinister smile, taking the rest of the space between us in two steps.

I stepped back; still trying to keep my distance, despite me being the one with the gun, but he was faster.

He grabbed hold of the shotgun’s barrel; not ripping it from my hands like I thought he would, but twisting it till it was pressed against me, acting like a bar at the bottom of my throat.

He leaned in close; his face centimetres away from my face so I could smell the cigarettes on his breath; and was that liquor?!

“Instead, you’re gonna go get in the car like a good girl, and wait for me...” He growled, pressing me hard against the wall, until I could feel the metal digging into my windpipe.

“And maybe, I’ll be nice to you...”

“Fuck you!” I snarled; spitting a glob of saliva in his face, because fuck him for thinking I’d do anything he asked after that show.

It landed on his face, dripping down his cheek in a silvery trail, and for a moment I thought I might’ve landed myself in hot water.

He lifted his hand, wiping it away and shaking it onto the flor, before leaning in close to whisper in my ear...

“Don’t worry; sweetheart. I’m planning on it”

I could feel his breath on my neck, teeth nipping at my ear, and I closed my eyes; willing it all to be over; because I couldn’t do this again, not with the kids right there.

Blurry flashbacks of Halloween raced through my mind; tears trailing down my face, a wet feeling between my legs, all soundtracked by Billy’s sadistic laughter.

“C’mon, sweetheart. No smart comeback?” He muttered; the pitch and phrasing somewhere between a moan and a threat, but he was right.

I had no comebacks.

I just wanted him to stop, and—

“How’s this for a comeback?” Snapped a familiar voice that sent my heart aflutter.

Billy span, only to be met with a closed fist sucker punching him straight in the jaw.

Billy stumbled back, releasing his grip on the gun so it clattered to the floor, freeing me.

I looked up at my White Knight; a suitably muddied Steve Harrington ready to knock Billy on his ass for good.

Billy wiped blood away from a freshly split lip, glancing down at the streak of red with a look of disbelief; and was he impressed?!

“You’ve got some fire in you after all; huh?” Grinned Billy; the fresh blood smeared on his face making him look half crazy.

“I’ve been waiting to meet this ‘King Steve’ I’ve been hearing so much about...”

“Get. Out.” Steve spat; pointing at the door with cold hard resolution.

Billy roared with laughter, as if Steve bossing him about was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but I sensed no warmth in it.

I was about to warn Steve to keep his guard up, when Billy made a swipe at him.

His fist swept towards Steve’s face, but Steve was ready for it, quickly ducking out of the way before retaliating with a punch of his own.

It landed, and I could hear the crunch of cartilage against bone as Steve’s fist made contact with Billy’s nose.

“Kick his ass, Steve!!” Yelled Dustin alongside a chorus of encouragement from the other kids, and for a moment my heart soared, because fuck; Steve was gonna win a fight!

Steve was gonna win a fight against Billy Hargrove!

Steve hit Billy with another punch, and then another, and then another; and it honestly looked like he was winning as he began backing Billy into the kitchen.

With one sweeping haymaker, Steve sent Billy stumbling back into the stove; Billy barely catching himself from falling on the edge of the stovetop.

Steve reeled back his fist for another blow, when Billy dived back into action, picking a dirty plate up from the Byers’ overflowing sink and smashing it into Steve’s face.

Steve stumbled back, caught completely of guard by the dirty tactic, and reeling from a potential concussion.

He lifted his hand up, touching where a shallow cut bloomed with blood.

“Steve!!” I yelled, panic dawning upon me as Billy began advancing on him; Steve’s previous benefit of surprise now lost, and Billy ready to pay him back tenfold.

“Billy; stop!!” Petitioned Max, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as Billy grabbed Steve by his jacket collar, pulling him towards him.

“You think you can fucking try and steal my girl, then try and tell me what to do?” Sneered Billy, before head butting Steve straight in the face without a moments hesitation.

Steve dropped to the floor; his eyes flagging behind his eyelids, but I found myself frozen to the floor, because this was what I was afraid of.

Billy was gonna fucking murder Steve and there was nothing I could do about it.

Billy wasted no time in straddling a barely conscious Steve, kneeling over him as he began raining down punches on his face, clearly intending to maim.

Steve couldn’t even fight back, near unresponsive and slipping further away with every punch.

I got to my feet, acting on pure instinct as I picked up my shotgun once more, levelling it at the back of Billy’s pretty blonde head.

I cocked the gun as Billy continued beating the shit out of Steve; animalistic grunts filling the air as he became more like a beast than a man.

My finger rested on the trigger, but I couldn’t do it; goddamnit!!

Even as he was about to kill my best friend; I couldn’t shoot him.

I just kept seeing the same Billy from last night; that sweet smile, those soft pretty blue eyes.

This couldn’t be the same boy.

I felt my hands shake, and I could barely keep the barrel level; the gun feeling impossibly heavy in my hands.

I lowered the barrel, even as I could see Steve’s eyes drift shut; unconsciousness taking him as Billy just kept hitting him and hitting him.

The kids screamed and yelled murder, but it all sounded muffled beneath the sound of blood pounding in my ears.

My eyes went blurry as I let the gun fall limp at my side; the surreal image of Billy’s fists rising and falling against Steve’s skin, red blood staining his knuckles, although I didn’t know if it was his or Steve’s.

I could see the same blood dripping down Steve’s face, staining it dark red, and I just wanted to wake up and see it was all a terrible nightmare.

For this all to be a dream.

But it wasn’t.

And goddamnit; he was gonna kill Steve and there was nothing I could do about it!

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guesswho-mp3 · 4 years

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[ Slim Shackled Wrists ]

Au: joker!kai x reader | Pairing: character x reader | Warning: manipulation, mention of crime/violence, joker!kai being a sexy mf | Rating: 16+ | Word Count: 1.4k

Her newest patient was unceremoniously dumped in his seat, the guard quick to shackle him to the table. Despite the fact that the cuffs provided ample protection from physical interaction on his part; the guard stood directly behind the newest inmate, hawk eyes daring him to move out of line. “Thank you sir, I can take it over from here, you may leave.”

“You sure, lady? It’s not safe to be alone with this guy. I saw what this psycho did on the news, he’s like a mad dog with rabies,” he warned. A high pitched cackle escaped the clown’s maws, the guard’s face quickly morphing into anger, burning red as he raised his hand in retaliation. “Shut up freak,” the order was punctuated with a firm push to the back of his head, resulting in it nearly smacking the table.

She stood up from your chair at the aggravated abuse. “That’s enough! Do not refer to my patient as a freak, he is here to receive professional help. Unless you want me to write a formal complaint against you, I suggest you go.” The guard scoffed but nonetheless turned towards the exit, the jokester snickering and waving as best he could in his restraints, sing songing bye bye.

“Stuck up bitch, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he muttered, shaking his head. With one last glance to the duo he shut the door, the resounding clang echoing in the sterile room and she turned to see the eyes of Gotham’s Most Wanted surveying her. The news had only ever managed to get shots of the back of his head when he was on his rampages, and even then they were always blurry from being captured at night.

Sitting across from him, she felt a weird sense of pride being able to be so up close and personal with the man who had the city on the edge of their seats for the past two months. Still despite his misdeeds there was something undeniably alluring about him. With all her years as a shrink, she felt like she was the one needing help this time with the very unprofessional thoughts poisoning her mind. There was a pull in her gut, something that made you want to stick her hand in the fire just to feel the sweet pain of it licking at her fingertips.

His garish orange jumpsuit seemed to devour him, a far cry from the stocky brutes that frequented Arkham, but she could see the faint outline of lean muscle from underneath the fabric. Emerald green hair and tiny flecks of white face paint around his hairline added to his mysterious and twisted persona. Red rimmed eyes, some fresh purple bruising near his jaw, probably from his scuffle with Batman, that brute. Refined nose. Porcelain cheek bones. Two shallow scars extended outward from his plump lips, giving him the appearance of a smile, how cute—

She cleared your throat. “I apologize for the mistreatment, that was uncalled for. Welcome to Arkham Asylum, we’ll just be doing a quick psychiatric evaluation,” she scanned through her notes, noticing a lot of his general information was blank. “It seems you have no name on file, and I hardly think it’s appropriate to refer to you as Joker. May I call you Mr. J?”

“Fine by me darling, call me whatever you like.”

She nodded, failing to ignore his husky tone and the charming way the pet name fell off his lips. Most patients when they arrived at Arkham were frantic, body trembling and eyes shifting, complaining of hearing voices. But he seemed cool and composed. Normal, even. The clinking of his handcuffs ricocheted off the tiled walls.

“Alright Mr. J. Now, why don’t you tell me what you remember about the incident.”

“Remember? Very dangerous proposition, doctor… Yes, very dangerous ahehe. What, do you want my whole life story? My deepest secrets, my darkest desires? Oh I know I have some that will make your toes curl,” he teased.

She brushed off the insinuation despite how much it made her ache and clicked your pen. “Perhaps the reason that landed you in here? Your childhood? Anything you’re willing to discuss,” she said with a reassuring smile.

He stirred, a switch flipped and he started laughing, half crazed at a joke known only to him. “Childhood? Memory? Yes, I suppose memories are a bit like children. Vile little things. A funny thing though, to reminisce. My father owned a gag shop in the East End. Whoopee cushions, hand buzzers, the whole shebang. A real comic that one, he loved to put smiles on people’s faces.”

“He sounds lovely.”

“He was.”

Her face turned into one of concern, giving into the honey trap. “D-Did something happen?”

He shrugged. “It was a rough part of town. With the murder of those billionaires everybody started getting…desperate. Started stealing stuff, murdering people. As if they were going crazy,” his voice took on a fevered lilt at the last word, hurried and frantic. She remembered what it was like back then, the murder of the Kwons seemed to lure out all the from the monsters from Gotham’s underbelly.

“One night somebody broke in. Daddy went downstairs to investigate and got a knife in the back. Mommy dearest was next, she screamed when she saw the body and he held a knife to her neck while she cried for help.”

He was feral, eyes unhinged as if he were being possessed by the killer. “You know what he said to her? As he held the knife to her? Why the frown, doll? You’d be so much prettier with a smile.” He flopped back into the chair like a marionette with its strings cut, wrath replaced by nonchalance.“ He carved a grin into her face while I watched. Then,” he positioned his thumb underneath his throat and pretended to slice it, making a croaking sound.

A wet gasp came from her. She’d heard her fair share of gruesome backstories but there was something about the image of his younger self; an innocent cherub with rosy cheeks and wide eyes having to be a victim to such violence that she absolutely couldn’t bear. She was horrified with the scenario her imagination painted, unaware to how engrossed he was in watching as a single tear cut its path down her cheek. He licked his lips.

Leaning forward, his eyes rounded, angelic innocence adorning his features. “You know you’re very pretty. Like a doll. Hmmm… My little harlequin.” he giggled. ”May I call you Harley?”

Her head hurt from the whiplash but her stomach, attuned to his remarks, fluttered. “I—

He blew a raspberry through his lips, gaze skipping to and fro across the room. “I can’t remember anything after that. But I was alone.”

“Alone?” A feeling she knew all too well. Her father having kicked her out at a young age, suffering constant neglect from the nuns at the orphanage. Even in college she spent your Friday nights hunched over her studies to earn her Masters rather than hanging out with friends, not that she really had any. He recognized the mourning in her cadence and became resigned.

“Not just physically. It was the sort of loneliness where you have no other option than to throw a ball back and forth against the walls of your own mind. Where every thud reverberates in your empty skull,” he wheezed. “I was spiralling, searching for someone to grasp my hand and show me my purpose in this cesspool of a world. But I finally found someone.” He was gazing directly at her now.

“You have?” She questioned, voice soft. Caring. Hopeful.

“Believe me never did I think I would find this person in such a situation. Where once I was a sole performer I finally found my partner to dance with through the chaos. Take the plunge and share my madness. Though�� I’m sure you don’t know what I’m talking about, doc,” he wistfully sighed, interested in the view outside the barred window while still watching her in his periphery.

“Actually,” she shuffled in her seat,” I think I do.” She leaned forward, a movement he caught in the corner of his eye, a smile so wide stretching across his face threatening to split it in two. Mask relaxing into a coy expression, he drummed his fingers on the table.

“You feel a special connection with this person. Like they know you for who you truly are. Almost like it’s fate that brought you together.” He snapped his fingers. “Exactly!”

“Almost like… almost like you’d do anything for them.”

He surged forward, face one of predatory anticipation. “Anything?” She nodded, fingers traipsing over his wrists.

He peered down at his hands and howled with laughter, her own giggles matching his. “I think we’re going to have lots of fun, don’t you,” he pushed her glasses up and twiddled her hair, ”Harley?”

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