#of touch is hitting in all the open wounds today

[astroph1les]

make you mine | 4 | e.w

summary: when you and ellie are home alone, you tend to ellie’s wounds (again) and things get a lot more heated than you expected. hailee comes home in a rage when she finds out the truth about you and her bestfriend.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: sister’s best-friend!ellie, fluff, established relationship, mature content — smut including fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), sibling angst (that is resolved quickly)

word count: 4.8K

a/n: long ass last part for you guys. you deserve it, my loves. <3

FREE PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

The next two weeks were a blur of smitten kisses, secret touches, and sneaking around. You had to make up lies about hanging out and sleeping over at Dina’s when in reality, you were either in Ellie’s bed as she explained how she needed to nail these new kickflips and going on little dates around the town.

Vincent asked Hailee just yesterday if he could be her boyfriend. She had ecstatically said ‘yes’ and she’s been attached to the hip with him since.

You’ve never seen her take to someone so quickly other than… Well, Ellie. You had been making yourself some chicken salad for lunch when you heard a knock at the door. You set the fork down on a napkin right next to the bowl of your lunch and march to the front door.

As soon as you open the door, you smile at the expected guest.

“Hi, baby,” Ellie steps into the house, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi,” you breathe out with a giddy grin. “What have you been up to?”

She shrugged her shoulders before snapping her fingers and pointing at you. Her eyes were shamelessly trailing up and down your frame.

“I fell this morning and scrapped the fuck out of my side,” Ellie explained as she easily rests her palms on your hips.

You were wearing a sundress, surprisingly enough to yourself. Skirts and dresses were something that were a hit or miss for you but due to the heat today, you felt this particular sundress was the best option. It was a bohemian red and white floral mini-dress. Plus, Ellie couldn't keep her hands off of you.

Like she could pounce on you at any moment.

“Els, why didn’t you tell me anything earlier?” You frown as you look at her face.

You also notice a slight scrape under her chin. You shake your head and cup both sides of her soft and warm face, tilting it back ever so slightly.

“And your jaw? Fuck, Ellie,” you continue to shake your head as you run your thumb over the slight bruising.

“I’m okay. I just need my favorite nurse to help me out,” Ellie’s grin was wide and giddy as she squeezed your sides.

You playfully roll your eyes as you motion for her to follow you to the bathroom. Ellie reluctantly released her grasp on you to trail behind you like a love-sick puppy, her hands just ghosting yours that were clasped behind your back. Once the two of you entered the bathroom, you got all the supplies you needed for Ellie’s injuries.

“Alright, take off your shirt,” you motioned to the few layers she had on.

Ellie removed her brown flannel that had the sleeves ripped off, setting it down on the sink’s marble counter. You stop your movements as Ellie tugs off her black wife-pleaser to reveal her sports bra and the scraped skin on her toned hips, now only left in her baggy gray jeans. The sight of her toned body always throws you off guard. She always helped Joel with the little farm that they have in the backyard of his house; carrying around hay barrels for the few horses and pales of eggs from the chickens.

They were not as light as they looked.

She winces slightly as she adjusts her hips to face you, a bit of blood still seeping from the injuries. You kneeled in front of her to get a closer look at how deep and severe the cuts were. Ellie raised her brows but kept her comments to herself.

“Els, baby, that’s— fuck, I mean did someone push you?” You can’t help but wince as you dab the injuries with a cotton pad doused in hydrogen peroxide.

Ellie’s hips jerked as she glanced down at you.

“No, I tried landing a fucking double heel flip but got stuck on a piece of shit bar. I hit my jaw and slid on the concrete.” Ellie explained, sucking in a deep breath as she couldn't handle seeing you down on your knees anymore.

You heard the sharp suck-in from above you and you apologized softly, thinking it was because Ellie was in pain. You leaned forward to place a feather-soft kiss on her upper abdomen, standing up on your feet. The feeling of your lips grazing her skin nearly made Ellie’s knees give out.

“Do you want anything to eat? Are you hungry?” You hum as you cup the sides of her face, your thumbs tracing her jaw. “I was just making some chicken salad so if you want some of that, let me know.”

Ellie blinked at you before breathing out: “What are you doing?”

Your brows furrow, tilting your head.

“What do you mean?”

You knew exactly what Ellie was referring to. You’ve realized more than anything that Ellie is very easy to tease. Not to be a cocky bitch but she was obsessed with you. Ellie licked her lips, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” Ellie shook her head as her hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” You hum, leaning in carefully testing the waters.

Ellie moved one of her hands up your side to then trace your bottom lip with the pad of her rough thumb. You instinctively took her thumb into your mouth, biting at the joint. You swore you could see something shift in Ellie’s eyes when your tongue swiped over the skin and sucked it gently. Ellie whispered a curse before removing her finger to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into a hungry kiss.

You gasp at the feeling, your panties dampen at her strong grip on your body. Your hands trail down from her shoulder to the waistband of her boxers-briefs that were peeking out from her jeans, being mindful of her small injuries.

Ellie moaned softly against your lips, pulling away for a moment so that she could get a good look at you.

You were panting softly, pupils blown and one of the straps to your dress falling off your shoulder.

Fuck, she could take a photo of you right now; Keep it in her wallet to show off how perfect her girl is.

“Before I let you do what you want, let me patch you up and put the chicken salad away,” you breathe out, rushing to take a huge band-aid that you had gotten after Ellie’s first incident.

“This feels familiar,” Ellie cheekily remarked as if she was reading your mind.

You let out a smitten chuckle as you leaned in to peck her lips three times exactly before spreading an ointment over her marks. Ellie’s toned stomach rose and fell rapidly, her eyes hungrily and impatiently trailing all over your body. Her hands were flexed at her hands, forcing her urges back to grab you and fuck you from behind, letting the sound of your soft and desperate moans send shivers down her spine.

“Do what you need to do, babe. Meet me back here in three minutes, yeah?” Ellie raised her brows as she cupped your jaw, tilting your chin up a little.

You nod at her words as that should give you plenty of time to get the chicken salad in the fridge and to take off your panties to make things easier. Ellie smiled at you with nothing but admiration and want, placing a sensual kiss on your lips as she jerked her head toward the bathroom door.

Oh, right. The chicken salad.

“Three minutes?” You question one last time, brushing back your flyaway hairs.

“Three minutes, gorgeous,” Ellie smirked.

You mutter it to yourself as you make your way out of the bathroom. Ellie was hot on your tail to give your ass a nice smack through the skirt portion of the dress, biting her lip when you simply turned your head to blush adorably at her. She made her way to the living room, rummaging through her plain black Converse backpack she had set down next to the couch.

The small time frame was a lot harder than you were expecting. Mostly because you’ve never realized how you can’t tell how long a minute is if you’re not counting down every second. You couldn't count down because your mind was clouded with Ellie.

Her shameless desire to have her hands on you, the sweet pet names she’d give you, and the way you thrived off of her compliments.

You shook your head as once you'd neatly packed away the delicacy in the fridge, you sprinted to your room to shimmy the borderline granny panties off of your lower half. You toss them in your laundry hamper and scurry back to the bathroom.

Ellie was leaning against the sink, arms crossed in front of her chest. The position made her biceps pop deliciously.

“Come here,” Ellie tilts her to you as you lean against the door, locking it smoothly.

You inch over to her with a shy smile, eyes glazed over with desire. Ellie reached forward to tug your hips forward towards her.

“Do you trust me?” Ellie questioned as her thumbs caressed your hips.

“Yeah, of course, Els,” you nod, your fingers twitching with anticipation.

Ellie tilted her head towards the sink’s countertop, a mischievous smirk on her pale pink lips.

“Hop up on there, baby,” Ellie placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, patting your ass over the dress.

You chuckled and did as she instructed, scooting back to get more comfortable. Ellie’s hands immediately found your plush hips and thighs, squeezing and loving the feeling of your skin in her palms.

“I know this isn’t, like, insanely romantic but can I… fuck you? I bought a strap, too, if you want to do that.” Ellie hesitantly asked, eyes patient for whatever you were going to respond with.

“Ellie,” you deadpanned, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you to fuck me? I just want you. You can fuck me another time in bed with roses and shit.”

Ellie snorted at your words but felt more at ease like she wasn’t taking advantage or pushing you to do something you didn't want to do yet.

“I didn’t want to rush things with you but… god, if you could feel how wet I am right now.” You were visibly flushed and bothered by your infuriating arousal.

Ellie’s eyes widened for a moment, her own freckled cheeks igniting a flame. She needed to feel you. To make sure you were telling the truth, of course.

“Can I?” Ellie pants, rolling the ends of the skirt of your dress between her middle finger and thumb.

You whisper a confirmation, watching her intently as she begins to push the skirt up your legs. Your skin grew hot as Ellie’s blunt fingernails grazed the skin of your thighs. Ellie, to her surprise, didn’t feel any sort of restricting cloth once she got to your hips under the dress.

“You really are a minx, Jesus,” Ellie breathed out a smitten laugh, gripping at the skin once more.

“Baby, please. Touch me.” You grab at her tattooed wrist, inching it just above your pubic bone.

Ellie let out a curse under her breath at your begging. It was an even sweeter sound than she could ever imagine. She takes her free hand to grip your hips and tug you just an inch closer to the edge of the counter. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of being manhandled by your girlfriend.

Without wasting any more time, Ellie drags her middle finger through your drenched folds. You lean your back against the cool mirror, a shiver running down your spine as she teases at your clit.

“Fuck, you weren't kidding. Are you always this wet when I tease you, hmm?” Ellie leaned forward to nose at your jaw, placing a wet kiss on the skin.

You nod, eyes shut as she slowly inserts her middle finger into you. The sound was obscene but neither you nor Ellie could get enough.

“You’re so pretty, Els. I can’t help it,” you sit up and off the mirror to change the angle a bit.

Ellie released a faint moan at your confession, silently scolding herself for keeping you from feeling good. Pretty, she thought. She gets wet from just seeing me.

“I’m gonna go slow right now, okay? Tell me if you want it faster,” Ellie placed a kiss on your cheek. “Harder,” another to your clavicle. “More fingers,” one more to just over the top of your left boob. “You tell me, okay?”

Have you said anything yet? You think so but you force yourself to whimper a soft ‘okay’. You already felt yourself drifting off into a state of bliss.

Ellie nods, feeling satisfied enough with your verbal answer. She slips her ring finger next to the middle, eyes watching you for any reaction. Your face was scrunched up in pleasure as Ellie’s forearm began to pump in and out of you. You gasp at the feeling, reaching forward to hold yourself steady on her flushed shoulders. Your hips grinned down on her fingers, heavy pants leaving your mouth.

Ellie used her free hand to tug down the front of your dress, your tits spilling out. She couldn't believe how fucking perfect you were in every way. She leaned down ever so slightly to kiss around your nipple as she continued to pump her fingers in and out, matching her pace to your whines and moans.

You caress the back of Ellie’s half-up half-down hairstyle as you watch her take your right nipple into her mouth. Your hips jerk as Ellie’s tongue swirls the bud in her mouth and her hand that wasn’t fingering you swiped over the left.

“Just like that, baby,” Ellie muttered against your tit, sucking on it and kissing over the full skin. “Keep moving those pretty hips.

You clench down on her at the praise as Ellie knowingly smiles against your chest. Cocky tease, you think to yourself. You grab her neck with both hands to pull her back up to your lips, hungrily kissing her like you couldn't bear without it.

Ellie pants into your mouth, teeth hitting yours for a moment as she is just as eager for you. Feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of Ellie’s fingers in you and her deep and sensual kisses, a tightening feeling settled in your lower abdomen.

“Els, faster. Please faster,” you whine against her swollen lips, a soft moan following.

Ellie didn’t have to be told twice, speeding up her arm. Her eyes hungrily watched as your mouth dropped in pleasure, the sound of your moans growing louder as she repeatedly hit your g-spot. Her arm was on fire but seeing you so pretty like this was the only thing keeping her going.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so perfect. My pretty girl,” Ellie praised you, kissing down your neck and nibbling on the skin.

You grab at her back as she does so, back arching to feel the pleasure all up your spine. Ellie started rubbing at your clit to get you to cum even faster. Your moans were becoming borderline pornographic as you came all over her two fingers.

“Oh my god, fuck. Shit! Ellie,” you whine as Ellie’s fingers are still moving, letting you ride out your orgasm. Your hand flung to her wrist as she smiled right in your face at your stuttering hips.

“There you go, pretty girl,” she placed soft kisses on your sweaty hairline through her sweet words.

A shiver runs down your body, goosebumps rising to your skin as Ellie carefully takes her fingers out of you. She sucks in a deep breath at the sight of her fingers dripping with your cum.

“Are you, uh, feeling okay? Do you need anything?” Ellie stared at your flushed face and chest, admiring how beautiful you looked coming down from your orgasm.

“I’m good, Els,” you reply softly, panting softly with a cocky smirk. You lean close to brush your lips over hers. “I just need you to fuck me, baby.”

Ellie’s eyes glance down at her baggy jeans then up at you again. Her eyebrows raise at your swollen lips.

“With the—“

“Mhmm. Can you please?” You chuckle at how flustered Ellie is getting now.

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that, baby.”

Ellie is about to reach for the button to her pants but you beat her to it, eyes never leaving hers. Ellie used this opportunity to kiss you with passion, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

Your eyebrows shot up at the feeling of the silicone dildo and at the size of it.

“Jesus, Ellie, are you trying to reach my lungs with this?” You dramatize with a soft chuckle, just grazing your lips over hers.

“It’s only six inches!” Ellie teases before cocking her head to the side, “Or is that too big for you?”

You roll your eyes at her words before taking the stiff dildo out of the zipper. Ellie glanced down before gripping your plush thighs to tug you closer to the edge of the sink. You couldn’t get enough of Ellie’s strong and rough grip on you.

“Okay, pretty girl, you let me know if it hurts. Just want to make sure you feel good,” Ellie wrapped her lengthy fingers around the base of it.

The freckled girl lined the tip of her makeshift dick. She made sure to leave a loving kiss and a gentle whisper to let you know that she was going to be pushing in now. You inhale as you feel your walls slowly stretch from Ellie’s dick.

You whimper unknowingly to yourself, trying to relax so that Ellie could push herself all the way in. Ellie whispers sweet praises in your ear, her thumbs massaging your hips to ease the stretch.

“How’s that feel, baby?” Ellie asked gently.

“Full but good. So fucking good,” you chuckle through a moan, your hands cupping Ellie’s face.

Your middle finger traces over the scar in her eyebrow and the beautiful constellation of freckles all over her face. Her cheeks were hot to the touch, pupils blown from arousal. Her eyes soften at your gentle touch.

She looked almost angelic. Scratch almost. She did look angelic.

Ellie nodded at your confirmation, her hips slowly dragging in and out. You lift your right leg up and rest your calf on her hip to switch up the angle. Ellie placed her hand on the muscle of your calf, encouraging the new angle.

“Fuck, Ellie,” you whisper as Ellie picks up her pace.

Ellie’s own moans and whines were faint but you took them in like you needed them. The sound of them was driving you insane, the obscene sound of her hips slapping against yours. Your hands were clawing at her back as you were grinding your hips as much as you could.

Sweat was forming at the base of your neck and spine. Your lower abdomen was on fire and you were sure Ellie’s was even worse. You could see her abs tightening more and more with every deep thrust. You ran your fingers over her bandage and the ridges of her ribs, wishing she could be deeper and deeper in you.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath at the feeling of your fingers on her skin.

“Look at me, angel,” Ellie whispers. Angel. That’s a new one.

Your hooded eyes drifted from her body to her face. Her smile beamed at your fucked out face. Her hand rested just under your jaw to pull you into a messy kiss.

“You look so pretty like this,” she groans against your lips.

You preen at the praise and let out a whine that you knew sounded so pathetic. You couldn't care less as your girlfriend was fucking you so hard that you swore you were going to squirt.

Your hands were slipping into the back of her head and tangling up into her short auburn hair. Ellie shivered at the slight tug as she dove in to shamelessly suck a hickey onto your neck. You panted as the air in the enclosed bathroom space was getting hotter and hotter as the seconds passed by.

The feeling of the thick dildo hitting at your g-spot causes pornographic moans to leave your mouth. A familiar tightening feeling settled into your abdomen.

“Ellie, I’m gonna cum, please” you whisper, trying not to be as loud as your moans.

“Cum for me, baby. Doing so good for me,” Ellie pecked your hot and sweat-dried cheek.

As you were about to cum, you heard the front door slam shut. Both of your movements froze at the sound of your sister's angry voice echoing through the house.

“What the actual fuck?” Hailee shouted that you swore had rattled the framed photos in the restroom.

You muttered curses as you ushered Ellie to pull out of you, trying to make minimal noise as well. It hurt like a bitch but you had to make yourself look somewhat decent. Ellie shuffled to release you from her grasp. You tug the skirt of your dress back down your thighs and hurry to wipe the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes.

Hailee calls for you again to which you look at Ellie with a panicked expression.

“Stay in here. Don’t say a thing and keep quiet.” You beg her, making sure to peck her lips once to show her you didn’t mean to be bossy or mean.

Ellie nods and gives you a tight-lipped smile. You tug the bathroom door open, wiping over your mouth once as you whip your head around to find your sister.

“Hails?” You call out.

Seconds later, you hear footsteps come from the area of your bedroom. Hailee stands in front of you and damn it, she looks more pissed than the time she failed her driver’s test.

The first time.

Her hands were on her hips and her chest was heaving up and down in anger.

“I’m gonna ask you something and if you lie to me, I will punch you straight in your fucking teeth,” Hailee spoke at an eerily calm volume.

“Okay…?” You reply, entirely confused by her angered state.

“Are you and Ellie together?” She blurts out, eyes wide in anticipation. “Fuck buddies, dating, whatever you two are just… can you tell me yes or no?”

What.

How did she find out? Who told her? Not Jesse, no. Dina? No, no, no definitely not.

Who fucking told her?

“Hails,” you start, shutting your eyes as you step closer to her.

“Oh my fucking god. It’s true. Are you fucking kidding me?” Hailee grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and hit you upside the with it.

You let out a gasp and looked at her in disbelief. Is she 12?

“Can you not hit me so we can just talk about it? Please, Hails.”

She hit you again upside the other side of your head. You huff out an annoyed sigh, rubbing at your temple. You open your mouth to say something snarky when you hear a muffled clatter from the bathroom.

Hailee’s eyes dart in the direction of the bathroom when she hears a soft mutter. Her eyes widen as she lets out a scoff and marches over to the door. You try to call after her but she jerks open the door to reveal a hunch over Ellie picking up the supplies you had forgotten to put away.

Her body tenses as she slowly stands upright, making eye contact with your sister.

“Hailee,” Ellie begins but your sister is quick to throw the pillow at Ellie's head.

Ellie merely scrunched up her face in embarrassment, clearing her throat and scratching behind her ear. You notice her nose scrunch up before she groans out, shaking her head.

“Were you two getting it on when I came home?” Hailee’s voice was laced with disgust.

The silence from you and Ellie told her everything she needed to know. You picked at your nails nervously, making eye contact with Ellie from behind your sister's figure.

“You,” she pointed at Ellie and turned to you with a scowl on her face, “and you are sick. The both of you. How long have you two been lying to me about this… thing you have going on?”

“A month.” Ellie carefully sighs out.

You suck in a deep breath as the two of you wait patiently for Hailee’s reaction. She was frighteningly still as she stared at Ellie who was anxiously fiddling with the bracelet you had gifted her a while back.

“How long were you going to keep this from me? Hmm?” Hailee whipped her head to stare at you now.

You froze at her angry glare but somehow managed to answer.

“Hails, I don’t know exactly when but we knew you would… Well, do this.”

“What? Freak out? Be dramatic?” Hailee lists off as she folded her arms in front of her ribbed tank top. “I’m sorry that I’m ‘being dramatic’ that my best friend since 6th grade and my sister have been lying to me about their secret relationship. I had to find out when Bella told me today that she was happy for you and Ellie.”

You shut your eyes and rub at your temple at Hailee’s tempered words.

“She saw you guys out on a date and kissing and holding hands and shit.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the three of you. No one knew what to say next. You felt guilt settle in your chest.

“Hailee,” Ellie began, which caused your sister to flinch and take a step back from her. “Hails, we never wanted to hurt you, okay? I… really like her. I’ve liked her since we were in junior high but always pushed those feelings away because of you. You’re my best friend and I didn’t want to risk my friendship with you. Look, I’m sorry that we lied to you and kept it a secret. We wanted to make sure that this would work.”

“Does it?” You speak up softly, looking at Ellie with nothing but admiration in your eyes.

Ellie’s eyes softened in your direction, a shy smile on her lips now. “Yeah, it does.”

Hailee kept looking between you two like she was contemplating on what to say. Whether she should blow up or come to an understanding.

“God, this is gonna be every day now, isn’t it?” Hailee groaned and covered her face with her hand.

“You’re not—“ You began with furrowed brows.

“— Mad? Yeah, I definitely am but,” Hailee sucked in a deep breath. “You two mean a lot to me and you make each other happy. I will not pick between you two if you break up though.”

Ellie smiled at Hailee then flickered her eyes over to you.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” you nod as you blush under Ellie’s gaze.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to my room because you two are blatantly eye-fucking each other,” Hailee grimaced and leaned over to Ellie to hug her. She whispers in Ellie’s ear laced with a sickenly sweet tone. “You hurt her and I will break every single skateboard in your room, Williams.”

Ellie’s eyes widen before she pats Hailee’s back with a tinge of fear.

“Yeah, love you, Hails.”

“Love you, Els.” Hailee grinned as she turned to you and threw a punch to your shoulder once.

You gasp at the sudden force and just nod.

“Okay, yeah. Are you done?” You rub over the skin and glare at her.

Hailee hummed in thought before shrugging her shoulders.

“For now. I’ll leave you guys alone to… talk. Just talk, okay? I’m home now.” Hailee warned you and Ellie before scurrying off to the bedroom upstairs.

You and Ellie wait until you hear the bedroom door click closed before you burst into soft giggles. Ellie walked over to you to capture your lips into a gentle kiss.

“Fuck, that was single-handedly one of the most embarrassing conversations I’ve ever had.” You murmur onto her lips, cupping her face.

“Yeah, but,” Ellie pulled away to wrap her fingers around your wrists. “I’m kind of glad. It was sort of killing me not being able to tell people.”

Your eyes soften at her confession, rubbing your thumb over her warm cheeks.

“Me too, honestly. I would’ve preferred for us to just tell her but it's out now. We’re…?”

As you trailed off, you realized you and Ellie never had that conversation. The rhythm and pace of your relationship was so perfect you didn’t even think about the ‘label’ talk.

“Girlfriends?” Ellie questioned, tilting her head to the side.

You beam and nod to confirm: “Girlfriends sounds more than good.”

Ellie began to cover your face in gentle kisses, feeling like she was on a permanent high. Giddy laughter left your lips and Ellie decided she right there and then that she wanted to make you laugh like that forever. To make you hers.

She’d do whatever it takes to keep you this happy.

tag-list: @elliezlils11utt @seraphicsentences @alesbianperson @21slurp-blog @vqxen @mikellie @boobdrug @macaroni676 @elliesprettygirl @plutolovesyouu @cinnamonmilf @sc0ttstre3ted

#wlw #ellie williams #sapphic #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #tlou2 fanfic

[beholdthesword]

As a generally untouched and touch starved person I am having lots of feelings reading the second half of the long way to a small angry planet

#sissix returning home and being buried in the physical affection she so often has to go without and rosemary envying that kind of freedo #of touch is hitting in all the open wounds today #probably not the best choice to read it at work but like #I’m still gonna

[wordstome]

kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list... #fic: kosovo maiden

[luveline]

jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home." 

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention." 

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint. 

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth. 

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere. 

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention. 

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today." 

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night." 

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better." 

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet. 

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it." 

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders. 

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?" 

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it." 

"That so?" you ask. 

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy. 

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you. 

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers. 

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–" 

"It's not like–" 

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his. 

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his. 

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry." 

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–" 

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach. 

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm. 

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth. 

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint. 

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses. 

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?" 

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?" 

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[storiesofsvu]

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Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, daddy kink, squirting, slight exhibitionism, derogatory dirty talk and lots of it, fingering, oral, minor cum kink/play, a little bit of ass play, and lets be real there's no plot. I added some people who interacted with the last one to the tag list. just lmk if you want to be taken off.

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When Aaron got home he found you in the kitchen, putting away dishes, half dancing around to the playlist echoing from your phone. The window was open wide, letting the fresh spring air into the house and at first he smiled, happy to be coming home to this. Then his head tilted as he took in your ensemble, tight light grey leggings that he could practically see your pussy through and when you spun to put away a couple of spatulas he became very aware you didn’t have a bra on underneath the white crop top, your nipples peaking through the fabric at him. The utensils found the way to their proper spot and you shot him a grin,

“Hey.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth as you took him in, always loving when he was dressed down, this time a dark tee and jeans.

“Hey yourself.” His hand wound around your waist and he greeted you with a kiss, his tongue instantly surging into your mouth. You let out a little giggle, turning back to the counter to finish what you were doing, “I thought you had errands to run today?”

“I did.” You replied with a shrug, putting down a stack of plates and closing the cabinet. Aaron wrapped an arm around you from behind, his hand warm on your bare midriff and his lips hit the side of your neck, “you didn’t wear this out, did you?”

“Just to the post office.” You gasped when his teeth sank into your shoulder and his free hand spanked the globe of your ass.

“So you were being a dirty little slut then?” He growled into the shell of your ear, “letting everyone out there see what’s mine?” A hand snuck under your shirt, pinching at your nipples and you couldn’t help but whine, arching into his touch, “and no panties? You just want everyone to see the shape of your pussy?” His free hand grabbed between your legs before spanking your cunt and you mewled, “get them fantasizing about how pretty it is?” He continued to palm at you through the impossibly thin fabric while his lips graced across your skin, “when you know who it belongs to, right?”

“You daddy.” You moaned, grinding down onto his hand and you could feel yourself tingling already.

“Good.” He spanked your pussy again, pulling another whimper from your lips, “then get yourself off like the useless slut you want to be today.”

His hand settled between your legs, cupping at your pussy with the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His other hand continued to roam under your shirt, groping at your tits and rolling your nipples between his forefinger and thumb.

“Well, get going.” He urged, “I wanna see how wet you can get these pants.”

He squeezed at you, his fingers practically slipping between your pussy lips through the fabric. You let out a low moan, your head rolling back onto his shoulder as you began to grind down onto his hand. You sucked your lower lip into your mouth, biting back a moan as Aaron’s other hand continued to massage your chest, playing with your nipples. His lips traced across your skin, starting out soft, ghosting over your neck, nipping at your earlobe,

“Such a greedy little whore you are.” He husked into your ear, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’ve been thinking about this all day haven’t you?”

“Mmmhmm…” You whined, rolling your hips harder against his hand, “need you daddy.”

“Yeah?” He jeered, grinding his hand hard against you, cupping you as you let out a groan, “you’ve been so patient this week, I bet you’re absolutely aching for my cock, aren’t you? Little cock slut you are, you love it when I use you.”

“Oh fuck Aaron…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as the heat began to fire through your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you felt your wetness building, your breath caught in your throat when Aaron bit into your neck. He knew exactly where to make a home with his lips, the spot that made your entire body shiver when he so much as touched it. He drove you absolutely wild and he knew it.

“God look at you,” he chuckled darkly at the whines escaping your lips, how you picked up the speed of your hips, pushing back onto his hand as hard as you could, chasing your peak, “rutting like a bitch in heat.” Pleasure coursed through you, your cheeks heating as the coil got tighter and tighter within you and you rocked down faster onto his hand, your moans getting louder with each roll of your hips. “You gonna come for daddy?”

“S-so close!” You groaned and he pinched your nipple, hard, while biting into the crook of your neck again and your body shuddered before your hips stilled. Aaron laughed, lifting his hand from between your legs, turning you in his arms to get a look at the small damp spot on the fabric of your pants.

“Oh come on,” he scolded, “I know you can do better than that. Such a desperate little whore today, you should be soaking.”

Pinning you to the counter, he hoisted you up onto it, spreading your legs wide for him, bracing your feet on the edge of the counter and his hand found your clit through the damp fabric. He didn’t hold back, knowing you were still coming down from your first orgasm, rubbing furiously at it, the friction of the fabric just enough to have your legs trembling almost immediately.

“Fuck! Fuu-uck.” You moaned, your head falling back as you felt yourself pulsing, your clit throbbing under his fingers. He pushed against your harder and you were crying out as you hit your high, thighs shaking as you squirted, juices drenching the fabric.

“That’s my good little slut.” Aaron praised, pinching your clit for extra effect and you gasped, the fabric was dark with your cum, and when he moved his fingers they were slick with wetness. “Look at you, making such a fucking mess already. Open.” He brought his fingers up to your lips and you obeyed, letting him thrust them into your mouth and all you could do was moan over the taste of your juices, tongue swirling around them as you sucked them clean.

Aaron slid his fingers out of your mouth and before you could even catch your breath enough to beg for him he leant over, his mouth wrapping around your pussy through your pants. His tongue lapped at you, groaning over your taste, the vibrations causing you to rock your body forward, eager for more.

“Oh god…” You muttered, your chest beginning to heave once again.

“Think you can get off again like this?” He asked with a grin, a brow raised in a tease in your direction and you whined, hand gripping at his hair.

“Please… need you.”

He mouthed at you again, nuzzling his face between your legs, pushing harder when your hand grasped at his scalp. As much as he wanted to torture you, drag it out as long as he possibly could, he also couldn’t wait to get his mouth actually on you, to really taste you, get your juices properly smeared all over his lips. His hands reached up to the weak seam of your pants, digging into the fabric before he easily ripped them apart, tugging at the fabric until your cunt was fully exposed.

“Aaron!” You gasped out, eyes wide and he simply scoffed.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He grunted, tugging the fabric away from your body, “ones that don’t show off this pretty pussy as much.”

Without a second thought he dove in between your legs, hands tight on your thighs to keep you spread open for him. His tongue lapped through your folds, flicking against your clit and you gasped, pleasure shooting through you at the feeling of him finally on your body without a barrier. His mouth wrapped around your pussy, sucking at one of your lower lips before moving to the other one, then pulling them both into his mouth. His tongue delved as far as it could into you, licking up as much of your arousal as he desired.

Your nails dug into his scalp, practically every breath you exhaled was accompanied by a moan, your skin prickling with desire. With every stroke of his tongue his nose bumped against your clit and you couldn’t help but rock your hips toward his face, panting harder with each thrust. While he was incredibly talented with his mouth and every ministration was pulling more pleasure to your core, it simply was not enough right now.

“Please… please daddy…” you panted, “need you to make me come.” He growled into your pussy and you gasped at the sensation the vibrations sent rocking through you, “more.” You whined, “please, please…fuck! Please.”

Knowing exactly what you wanted, Aaron shifted his mouth upwards, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and two fingers easily slid into your dripping cunt. The tip of his tongue traced around the swollen nub, flicking at it slowly at first, picking up the speed and pressure as your whines increased. He matched the pace with his fingers, fucking them skillfully into you, twisting them around, twirling them so they hit every inch of your inner walls. He sucked particularly hard on your clit, fingers curling just right and you moaned even louder.

“Oh god! Fuck!” Your hand shot from his head to sneak under your shirt, groping at your chest, pinching at your nipples, “just like that! Fuck…” your eyes scrunched shut as the pleasure got hotter and hotter, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat, “gonna make me come!”

Aaron increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue flicking at your clit even faster and his fingers curled up again, rather than just thrusting he kept them rather still so he could rub back and fourth over the sensitive spot inside your throbbing pussy. You clenched down around him, your juices coating his hand and he knew you were close, your thighs shaking around him. He groaned against you and you shuddered, pussy pulsing around his fingers, squeezing him so tight you almost forced him out as you moaned loudly, your hips rocking up to push against his mouth while your orgasm washed over you. You felt the gush of wetness, gasping as your body shuddered once more and Aaron chuckled, your juices leaking down his arm, droplets already dripping onto the floor between you. He always took pride in being able to make you squirt and with the track record he had going today he certainly wasn’t going to stop there. As he pulled his fingers from your drenched cunt his tongue lapped up as much of your cum as he could, teeth sinking into the skin of your thigh.

“Such a messy little thing you are.” He growled as he stood from between your legs, “you like that? Making a mess of everything?” He cocked a brow in your direction and all you could do was attempt to catch your breath. “Answer me.” He demanded, his hand suddenly spanking your pussy, your clit throbbing when he did so.

“Fuck!” You yelped, nearly whimpering at the dark look in his eyes, “yes daddy. Love when you make me squirt.”

“That’s what I thought.” He spanked you again before his hands gripped the waistband of your ruined leggings, tugging them down your legs and tossing them in the direction of the garbage. “Keep those legs spread.” His hands roughly shoved your thighs back open, pushing you back on the counter, “little sluts don’t get to decide when they’re done and I’m definitely not finished.”

You let out a little whimper, your lip nearly quivering as you looked at him and he chuckled darkly, a smirk on his lips while he tugged your crop top over your head, leaving you bare before him. Somehow that turned you on even more, being completely naked while he was still fully clothed, in the middle of the kitchen as he had his way with you. It was almost like he could sense it, catching the way your cheeks flushed, the way you practically pouted up at him and his lips split into a grin as he grabbed your chin.

“Quite the exhibitionist aren’t you? I should just fuck you on the front step next time, let everyone on the block know how much of a fucking slut you are. But you’d probably like that too much, wouldn’t you? You’d just fucking love to show off, let everyone see your tight little cunt dripping with cum.”

He dropped your chin, taking a small step back as he surveyed you before his hand wound back and then came down hard on your pussy. You let out a quiet yelp, your body shivering at the painful pleasure surging through you.

“Whose pussy is this?” He growled.

“Yours!” You whined back, your clit already throbbing when Aaron spanked it again.

“And who makes you feel this good?”

“You do daddy.” You whimpered.

“Are you a dirty little whore?” Spank. “A needy little thing?” Spank. “A pathetic little slut?” Spank. “Answer me.” Spank. “What are you?” Spank. “Say it!” Spank. Each hit a little harder than the last, his fingers coming away a little more wet and sticky each time as your arousal built back up.

“I’m a dirty whore.” You whined out, your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy again.

“That’s right.” He cooed.

“I need you daddy. Can’t come without you.”

“So what are you?” He asked, spanking you once again and you whimpered.

“I’m a pathetic little slut.”

“That’s right.” Spank. “You are. Going out dressed like that. Only I’m allowed to see you like this.” Spank. “Only I’m allowed to touch you. Understood?” Spank.

“Yes daddy.” You cried out, your pussy was absolutely throbbing. Pulsing around nothing as you ached for him to do something more, juices leaking down your legs you were so turned on you could barely focus.

“Good girl.” He praised with one last spank, this one directly on your clit and you shuddered, letting out a low moan.

Aaron stepped toward you and you braced yourself for another spank but instead he shoved thee fingers into your pussy and you let out a satisfied groan. He filled you so perfectly, fingers fucking into you, curling right where you needed them, stretching you out so wonderfully your eyes fluttered shut. He thrusted them into you, flicking them out every so often, pulling your wetness out with him as he did so, watching the droplets hit the floor. “God you’re such a pathetic slut, just a hole for me to use.”

“I am daddy!” You begged, “just for you. Only for you. Need your cock. Please!” Your whining became more insistent as the pleasure built up inside you again, feeling stuffed with his fingers moving faster and harder with each breath you let out. His free hand reached up, wrapping around your throat and after only two squeezes of his hand you were coming again, pussy juices drenching his hand as you shook in his arms.

“Yeah?” He raised a brow, releasing your throat, “you want me to fill you up? Stretch out that tight pussy with my thick cock?”

“Mmmhmm.” You nodded, panting, body still twitching as your nerves fired off pleasure through your limbs.

Aaron grabbed your hips, yanking you off the counter and flipping you over, bending you over it. He grabbed one of your legs, bending it and raising it up onto the counter, spreading your pussy open for him. He let out a low groan at how you glistened in the sunlight, just absolutely drenched and fluttering for him already. He was straining against his pants, hard and throbbing when he undid his belt, pulling his cock out. He pumped it a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum across his length.

“You’re gonna take it like a good slut, right?” He asked, rubbing his cock against your folds and you nodded, a gasp leaving your lips when he rubbed the tip through you, teasing you, coating him in your juices. “That’s what I thought.”

With one swift thrust of his hips he buried his cock into you, letting out a grunt at how tight you were, how good you felt around him. His hand pressed against your lower back, keeping you pinned to the counter as he set a brutal pace, cock plunging into you fully with each thrust of his hips. It didn’t take long before you were a whimpering mess, barely able to make out words as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand tangled into your hair, yanking your chest up and his cock managed to hit even deeper within you.

“Oh god…” you moaned, pussy clamping down around him, “feels… s- soo good.”

His free hand cracked down on the globe of your ass and you whimpered, “louder! I want the whole street to know who you belong to.”

“Fuck! Daddy!” This one was louder, “oh god, don’t stop!”

“Who owns this tight little cunt?” His breathing was starting to get laboured, feeling you squeeze around him, the squelching sounds coming from you enough to make him twitch and throb already.

“You do daddy!” You cried out, “this pussy’s all yours.” You could barely keep your eyes open, the feeling of his body on yours, his cock stretching you out perfectly, you could feel every ridge and vein. Your entire body was on fucking fire already.

“Who makes you feel this fucking good? Hmm?”

“Oh fuck! Aaron!” There was no holding it back anymore and you honestly didn’t care who heard, the man was making you see stars. “make me feel so good. Love your cock.”

“Gonna fuck you stupid.” He grunted, thrusting harder into you, watching the way you were starting to shake. He spit onto your ass, letting the saliva drip down to your tight hole before his thumb began to circle it and you let out a moan. He eased his thumb into it and your moans got louder, pussy clenching down around his cock.

“Oh fuuckk..” It was guttural, deep in the back of your throat and he just knew the effect he was having on you right now, hips snapping into yours sharper and faster with each thrust.

“You like that?” He teased, his thumb fully seated, “want me to fuck your ass too? Let my cum leak out of all your holes?”

“Yes!” You cried out, “oh god yes daddy! Fill me up, please!”

“Little cum slut.” His word were accented with a particularly harsh thrust and you yelped, your body falling back down onto the counter. You whimpered out, each thrust of his cock pulled a louder whine from you, your hands clawing at the counter, your pussy pulsing again and again, squeezing around Aaron tighter and tighter.

“I’m gonn—gon come.” You choked out, fire shooting through your body and Aaron spanked your ass with his free hand before it wrapped around your hip, finding your clit and starting to rub.

“Want you to squirt for me again, come on my cock like the whore you are.” His fingers were already covered in your slick, “let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

“Harder.” You choked out and the next thrust sent your hips pushing into the counter sharply, his fingers pressed heavier against your pulsing nub, your cunt clenching around him as he throbbed inside you. “Oh god daddy. Fuck! FUCK!”

With one final cry you were shaking between his body and the counter, thighs trembling as your pussy squeezed so tightly around him he let out a loud swear. His thumb slipped out of your ass so he could grab your hips, bracing himself to chase his own peak, pulling you back onto his cock harder with each thrust. The point where your bodies met was soaked, juices and sweat coating both of you, it was only a matter of minutes, listening to you whimper, feeling you flutter around his length in aftershocks before he let out a loud grunt and his hips stilled. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his cum painting your walls, the way his cock pulsed inside you. He squeezed at his cock, making sure you’d gotten every last drop before he pulled out.

“Such a good little slut.” He purred, his fingers moving between your legs, scooping up the mixture of cum and shoving it back into you.

You gasped, your back arching up, sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d pulled from you already. You couldn’t help but shudder as he fucked his cum back deep inside you. It was only once he was satisfied and had caught his own breath that his fingers left you, his clean hand soothing up and down your back and he gently nudged your stiff leg off the counter, pulling you up into his arms, your back flush to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you.

“Holy fuck Aaron.” You groaned; your throat nearly hoarse and he chuckled, kissing the side of your head.

“You alright there sweetheart?”

“Fucking perfect.”

“Good.” He turned you in his arms, smiling down at you before he leant down to kiss you softly, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking at your skin. “Quite the mess….” He teased, glancing down and you laughed.

“Remind me to mop the floor tomorrow.”

“I mean, I did cause it, I’ll do it.” He offered with a grin and you laughed again, popping up on your toes to kiss him again.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He shot you a sheepish grin and you cocked a brow at him, your head tilting in confusion, “when I came home Mrs. Henderson was out gardening.” His eyes flicked toward the very open window that faced the neighbours yard and you gasped, swatting at his chest.

“Aaron!” You scolded, “well now we are definitely skipping the next block party.”

“If fucking you stupid is all I have to do to get out of those, then you can guarantee it happening every time.” He smirked and you laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I’m not gonna argue that.” You murmured, lips curving up into a grin as he kissed you again.

“Now how about we get you into a nice bath? Hmm?”

“I’d love that.”

________________________

@unsubologyy @alexusonfire @svushots @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut

[moonstruckme]

any chance you'd be willing to do disassociating!reader with sirius as a fade into you prompt?

Thanks for requesting!

join the party

cw: mentions of blood, reader is in shock/dissociates after injury-related trauma

Sirius Black x reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’ve long since stopped shaking by the time you get back to your apartment, but it still takes you a few tries to get the key in the door, your movements robotic and seeming somehow separate from you. 

“Hey, you’re home late,” Sirius greets you as you walk through the door. “I was just starting to think about dinner. How would you feel about…shit.” He stops as he comes into the living room, gaze snagging on your legs, dried blood staining them from the knees down. Your shoes, which used to be white but are now a rusty brown. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not mine.” 

“Okay.” He’s still standing a good few feet away, like you’re characters in a play, reciting your lines without moving. “Whose is it?”

“Macy’s.” 

“Alright.” The word is meaningless, but not any more than the rest of them, you suppose. Sirius steps closer, slowly, as if wary of spooking you. “Is she okay?” 

“She, uh.” You swallow. “Yeah, she’s okay. Or she will be. She fell and hit her head, but they said she’ll be okay.” 

“Who said, darling?” 

“The nurses. I just got back from the hospital.” You remember the ambulance ride there, the ridiculous quiet of it all. You’d thought that when someone was hurt that bad, hospitals were all beeping and yelling and people running around. But they’d only asked Macy questions in calm, measured voices, no beeping or alarms to be heard. What did you have to eat today? Do you know why you fell?

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks gutted, and you don’t know why he’s using that tone with you. You’re not the one who cracked your head open. “You should have called me, lovely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

“You were at work.” It’s simple, a fact. “Anyway, there was nothing you could do.” 

Sirius takes your face in his hand, and it feels like he’s touching someone else, your skin waxy and foreign. “I would have left work to be there with you. It sounds like it was an awful thing to have to deal with by yourself.” 

You guess it probably was. You’d had to put pressure on Macy’s head until the paramedics got there, kneeling in a pool of her blood as it seeped from the wound and time seemed sluggish and unreal. You know, objectively, that it was one of the more awful experiences you’ve had, and you’ll probably be dreaming about it for years. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. Nothing feels any sort of way right now. 

“How long were you at the hospital for?” Sirius asks. “When did this happen?” 

You don’t know. It was…the sun was still out, when she fell on the sidewalk. But the length of time you were sitting there with her, or the time in the ambulance, is all stretched out and murky. You know you got back to your car and drove home, but you can’t recall any part of the journey. You leave that last bit out of what you tell Sirius, but his frown deepens anyway. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Here, let me take those off.” 

He bends over, untying your shoes for you, and you watch as dried blood flakes off the laces where they bend unwillingly. Sirius doesn’t comment on it, slipping your shoes off one after the other and setting them by the door. His hands are delicate about your shoulders as he steers you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. You’re distantly cognizant of him moving about, opening and closing a cabinet and turning on the faucet, but it’s not until he crouches in front of you that he enters your awareness again. 

Sirius takes your ankle in his hand and begins just below your knee, rubbing a warm, wet washcloth over the blood staining the skin there. He’s talking, still, in a low voice, but the murmurings don’t seem to have much importance other than placation. It’s more ambient noise than anything else. He works the washcloth down your leg, the rough fabric scrubbing gently at your skin. He presses harder in some areas where the blood is stubborn, and that’s where you feel it most. The beginnings of real sensation, connected to you rather than some shell that you occupy and that moves when you tell it to. 

By the time he starts on your other leg you feel as though you’ve been thinking through a dense fog that’s beginning to lift; you’re able to feel the warm droplets of water running down your calf and make out some of the quiet words spewing from your boyfriend’s mouth. He finishes with your legs, and you hold up your hands, now trembling again. The blood there is cracked around the lines of your palm, and Sirius takes your hand in his, wiping it away gently. You can feel the cloth even more there, where it brushes against your sensitive fingertips. You can tell now that Sirius is telling you stories, various anecdotes of when he or his friends had gotten hurt. 

“It’s scary to see someone you care about in pain,” he goes on at a murmur. “Even when you know they’ll be alright, I think it hurts worse than when we’re in pain ourselves.” 

A tear dribbles down your cheek, landing with a splat on your thigh, and Sirius looks up, surprise morphing into heartbreak when he sees your expression. He drops the cloth on the floor, rising to an awkward height so that you can put your head against his shoulder when his arms come around you. 

“I know, baby.” His voice sounds almost fragile, as though he’s feeling this as acutely as you are. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Are you feeling a little more like yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff. Your tears are still coming slowly, and you know the majority of your panic is still buried somewhere safe inside of you, but this is enough for now. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

Sirius pulls back, thumbing away your tears as he studies your face, eyebrows set close together in concern. “I think you’re in shock, sweetness. It makes sense, that’s a lot for anyone to have to see.” He strokes at your hairline, just beside your eye. “Do you want to talk about it? If not, we don’t have to. We can just watch a movie or something, try to forget about it for tonight.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to find the voice inside yourself that usually tells you who you are, what you want. It’s still quiet, but you think that’s answer enough. “The second one, please. I don’t think I’m ready to think about it yet.” 

“Alright, whatever you want.” Sirius nods, rising and offering you his hands to help pull you up. You take them, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’re standing. “Whenever you feel ready, lovely, I’ll be here.” 

#moonstruckme 1k celebration #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[foreverinadais]

forehead kisses: mk system

summary: how and when the moon knight system give you forehead kisses.

warnings: fluff (i swear this was therapy to write), tiny bit of angst but not between the reader and the boys :)

word count: 1.8k

~STEVEN~

The tears had gathered in your waterline as soon as you reached the door. Something about this place, this flat, offered a sense of home you had never had. The familiarity alone made you feel safe enough to cry.

You tapped the door, a weak attempt of a knock, but Steven heard, had been waiting by the door since you had messaged you had left. A bright beam was on his face, a soft glisten in his eyes as he swung the door open, ready to bear hug you into his arms. But his expression faltered at the sight of yours; watery eyes, lip trembling, body hunched in defeat.

He didn’t say anything as he took your hand in his own, leading you through the doorway, nudging the door shut with his foot. You followed meekly; his hand soft, warm. Your grip tightened. He noticed immediately.

“D’you want to talk about?” He asked, voice so soft, so gentle, it made you want to crumble. You shook your head, not a no, just a not yet. He nodded in understanding, taking your work bag off you, placing it on the side, before getting to work on ridding you of your jacket. All in a silence so comfortable, it made the thoughts begin to dissipate in your head.

He led you to the sofa, sitting down and leading you to do the same- you did. “C’mere,” he whispered, “need’t hold you. Can I hold you, my love?” You nodded, and as soon as your body met his, the dam broke. He tutted, but not at you; at whatever it was that had caused you any kind of pain. One hand stroked up your back, the other cradled your head into his shoulder.

“ ‘s okay, let it all out, there you go.” You did, all the pent up emotion of the day, week, coming out all at once to him. And when your sobs subsided to sniffles, he was there, still.

“ ‘m sorry.” You croaked, releasing yourself from his grip, only slightly, only to wipe at your eyes. He was already there, swiping a stray tear away with his thumb, a concerned look evident in the lines between his eyes.

“Whatever for?”

“I didn’t want to cry, not to you. I didn’t want to ruin your day and now I have and ‘s not fair-”

“Don’t be silly, baby. You didn’t ruin anythin’, you never have, ever. I want you to cry to me. I would do anythin’ to be the one you cry too for the rest of time, ’kay?” You sniffled, looking down from his gaze, nodding hesitantly. “Hey, lemme see your wonderful face. Missed you.” He demanded, but his tone was light, cheeky.

You obliged, the first smile since entering his flat appearing on your lips. He grinned in triumph, pulling you in for a kiss, then another, and another. You giggled, his name leaving your lips with a laugh. “I love you.” You whispered, and he could swear his heart reinvented itself every time those words left your lips.

“I love you more. Promise.” You hit his chest in joke protest, but he caught your hand in his, pulling you back into his body. His breath fanned over your head, and you swore your heart sang as he pressed a firm, sure, loving kiss onto your forehead. A sigh of contentment left you, and you felt your body finally relax. “Now, tell me about your day, sweetheart.”

~MARC~

You had looked after him plenty of times before. Cleaned up his wounds, bandaged his cuts, leaving affirmations and soft touches in your path. Marc accepted it, though he would never admit just how much he needed your touch. He would never ask for it.

Especially not today.

When Marc had stumbled through the door at a late hour, muttering under his breath with irritation, you knew instantly the type of day he had. You put the bookmark in your book, placing it on the side before swinging out of bed. You never slept until you knew he was safe, until he was back with you.

Marc had his back turned away from you, lost in thought, or argument, struggling with his jacket before hanging it up. You called his name softly, enough to break through the wall in his mind, and he turned instantly.

“Oh, baby.” You whispered at the sight of his bruised eye and bust lip. He shrugged, laughing, but you could tell it wasn’t in humour. “What happened?” Marc sighed, shaking his head, coming close to you, but not close enough. You filled the gap immediately, running a hand through his curls before cupping his jaw.

“You should see the other guy.” You smiled, rolling your eyes.

“You say that every time.”

“ ‘s true.” You rose an eyebrow, a silent encouragement to get him to continue, to be serious. He sighed again, dropping his gaze form your own. “Got jumped by three of Harrow’s guys. Fought them off alright, but they managed to get a few hits.”

“You fought them off? You did good, why are you feeling bad?” He knew you didn’t mean physically.

“Cause I almost didn’t! ‘s, I don’t know, embarrassing. Konshu would be pissed off and…” he trailed off, but you encouraged him with a gentle grab of his hand. “Don’t wanna bother you.”

“What?” He seemed exasperated, and you ran your thumb over the skin of his palm, feeling his heartbeat increase.

“When I come back… hurt, or whatever, it’s you that has to deal with it. ‘s not fair, not for you. I just, I wanna give you the best, baby. Feel like I don’t do that.”

“Oh, Marc.” You whispered, sympathy and care dripping off your tone. “You could never bother me, ever. I hate seeing you hurt, but I love caring for you, I’ll do it happily. Because I love you.” He didn’t seem convinced, and you tipped is gaze up to meet yours. It was rare you were in charge of such intimate actions, and it made his heart skip a beat, his mouth run dry. “You give me the best every day. Promise.”

“Don’t deserve you.” He muttered quietly, but you caught it, crumpled it up, threw it away.

“ s’not true at all.” He sighed once more, playing with your fingers, yearning for your touch. You heard him silently, tugging his hand toward the bed. “Let’s lie down, yeah?” He nodded, stifling a yawn as you got comfy under the covers, him not far behind.

He didn’t reach for you like he normally did, not when he felt so vulnerable. No, you reached for him, pulling him to you. He gripped your waist tightly; afraid you’d vanish if he let go for even a millisecond.

“How’s your head, baby?” You asked, and he hummed.

“ ‘s fine. Hurts a little, but ‘m fine now.” You smiled, reaching down, moving the stray curls out the way before planting a kiss on his forehead. His skin flushed, heart stopping at the action. You repeated it once, twice more for good measure, repeating ‘I love you’ so it stuck.

Marc felt his eyes shut, consumed by your love, finally feeling at peace.

~JAKE~

Jake had been anxiously awaiting for you in his car for well over an hour. He had dropped you off with a kiss and soft words of praise, and you had told him he didn’t need to hang around, that you’d call when you were finished. But after you had left, he found himself staying. Not wanting to miss as you came out, so he could be there for any and every reaction you had.

So that he could celebrate you or comfort you- he didn’t think for a minute it would be the latter.

But your nerves had transferred over to him, leaving a pit in his chest. He knew you should get this job; you had worked your ass off ever since he had known you. He was ready to march in and show or tell that to anyone who didn’t agree.

He glanced at the clock again, a profanity leaving his mouth at the time. He felt such an intense urge for you, to see you and kiss you and know you were okay. He wished for your success well over his own. Like, it only mattered if you were happy, if you got your dreams- you had scolded him for thinking that more times than he could count.

Jake jumped at the sound of the passenger door opening. Fuck, he had zoned out, lost in the thoughts of you, like he usually was. You were there now, scrambling into the passenger seat, eyes lit up and wild. He didn’t have to ask because you were already exclaiming - “I got it! I got the job!”

A sound of utter happiness and pride left Jake, and he felt his heart beam as you practically leapt into his arms, ignoring the way the gear shift dug into your thighs as you settled in his lap. Jake held you close to him, praise and love falling from his lips as though it was all he could ever say to you. Your body radiated warmth- as though you were the sun personified.

Jake pulled away, kissing all over your face; your cheeks, your jaw, your eyelids, eventually your lips. You laughed, happily accepting, feeling dizzy all over again. “ ‘m so fucking proud of you.” He said, pulling away, a look of sincerity etched into his features you had never seen before. You smiled gratefully, emotion rising in your throat as you thanked him, hands in his hair. “Seriously. Tan orgulloso- so proud.”

“Thank you, Jake. I couldn’t have done any of this without your support-”

“Na-uh, this was all you. All you, mi amor.” He kissed you again, and you sighed with joy.

“Love you.” You murmured, and he grinned, face heating as if he had never heard you say it before.

“Te amo. Love you so much.” You spent a moment, then, staring at each other, taking in the serene moment. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, desperate to keep this memory of you forever. Smiling, proud of yourself, thighs squeezing his legs, hands in his hair. Fuck, it was everything he could ever wish for.

Lost in the thought, he cupped the back of your neck, bringing you down softly so that your forehead was level with his lips. He kissed the skin, lips lingering, taking in the moment. Your breath hitched. You had kissed him countless times, even just in the car, but somehow, this moment felt so intimate, you could hardly breathe.

He noted your flustered expression as he pulled away, tipping your chin up with his fingers. “Now, how should we celebrate?” You grinned, wasting no time before capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. “Good plan.”

#steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #moon knight headcanon #moon knight fluff #jake lockley fluff #marc spector fluff #steven grant fluff

[powchakko]

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲..?

synopsis. greeting them after a tiring day at practice + stuff i’d like to do with them

word count. 1k

characters. tsukishima kei, akaashi keiji, oikawa tooru

warnings. reader is called princess (in oikawa's part), lil suggestive?? + mentions of a wound (in tsukishima’s part), reverse comfort, lil angst if u squint, CLICHE STUFF

notes. asdfghjkfghj first time posting my works here! hope y'all enjoy reading it heheh-

𖤐 tsukishima k.

“tadaima,” you heard a soft voice accompanied by the click of the door closing.

“kei!” you exclaimed, lips instantly tugged into a smile as you run towards your boyfriend. you crashed into him, almost knocking him backwards. “okaeri,” you said while inhaling his familiar scent and wrapping your arms around his lean frame.

tsukishima only hummed in response, though he was quick to return the embrace and press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“how was practice today?” you asked as you pulled away from the hug. but your smile vanished and transformed into a somewhat panicked expression when you saw a huge bruise on your lover’s cheek. “oh my gosh, kei. what happened?!” 

“a certain someone accidentally hit the ball towards my face,” he replied, wincing in pain as you gently laid your hand on top of the bruise, your thumb stroking the red and blue-ish skin.

“hinata?” 

“who else,” the blonde averted his gaze and sighed. “don’t worry, i already compressed it with an icepack.”

you suddenly grinned. “doesn’t look worse than that hickey you gave me–”

“urusai.” tsukishima glared at you, his face flushed red. “don’t you dare mention that.”

“i’m joking, i’m joking,” you laughed. your hand was still resting on his cheek, which, to him, somehow did a better job of making the pain hurt less than the icepack. he gingerly took your hand and guided it towards his lips before pressing a soft kiss onto your palm.

“can we eat dinner now?” he mumbled against your skin, causing you to squirm at the ticklish feeling.

“of course we can,” smiling even wider than before, you pulled your arm away and slipped it around his as both of you walked to the kitchen.

𖤐 akaashi k.

you were a little surprised when you came out of the bathroom and found your boyfriend slumped across the sofa. you were happy, of course, and couldn’t wait to eat dinner and spend some time with him. but the tired expression on his face forced yourself to postpone all the hugs and kisses you were ready to shower him with.

“keiji?” you tried, your voice soft and careful.

akaashi slowly opened his eyes, emerald hues boring into your own (e/c) eyes. he slightly pulled his lips to the sides. “hey, sweetheart.” 

“rough day at practice?” you asked again, this time making your way to the sofa. 

“hm,” the boy mumbled. you were now sitting cross-legged beside him. slowly, you placed your hands on either side of his face, guiding him to lie down on your lap. akaashi instantly melted into your touch, and you could almost see his fatigue evaporating into nothingness as he finally settled comfortably on your legs.

“tell me everything,” you said gently. your fingers were already getting to work, untangling and smoothing out akaashi’s raven locks. he let out a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes a second time.

silence hung in the air – though it felt peaceful and comforting to both of you rather than awkward. you were still busy playing with your boyfriend’s hair. knowing he wasn’t much of a talker, you didn’t press for answers. besides, wasn’t simply being there for him enough?

“i’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” he whispered. “‘m too tired right now,”

you hummed in response. “do you want to eat dinner, then? after that–”

“can we stay like this for a little longer?”

you looked down at his face, a little surprised when you found akaashi already staring lazily back at you. you smiled before cupping his cheeks and placing a quick kiss to his nose. “actually, i think i’d like that, too.”

𖤐 oikawa t.

you yelped as you felt two cold arms encircling your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. you quickly turned off the stove and pulled the earplugs from your ears before turning around, only to see your boyfriend’s face nestling comfortably on your shoulder.

“tooru?!” you exclaimed. “oh my god, i’m so sorry. why didn’t you tell me you’re home?”

he grinned, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

despite his playful tone, you could see the fatigue overshadowing his features. how it made his smile look a little less genuine, how it gave him subtle frown wrinkles across his forehead, how it caused his voice to sound groggy. “tooru?” you called to him softly. “did anything happen at practice?”

that earned a small chuckle from him. “you know me so well, princess,”

“tooru…”

“tell me about your day instead,” he interjected. “mine’s too shitty to talk about.”

this didn’t seem like the oikawa tooru you knew. he’d usually protest and complain nonstop about how terrible practice was, how frustrating his underclassmen were, or literally any other bad thing about his day. something really bad must’ve happened that it caused him to be this quiet. 

“was it that bad?” you asked again, this time turning around and cupping his cheeks in your hands. they’re so cold, you thought silently. 

“not as bad as how i must’ve smell like right now,” the brunette grinned again. “i’ll go take a shower, m’kay?”

“tooru, look at me.” you demanded, tightening your hold on the sides of his face, which made him tense a little. “i need to know if something happened. please tell me what’s wrong.”

oikawa stared at you and sighed, his smile faltering. “everything,” he whispered before roughly dumping his forehead on your shoulder. “i dunno… it all just feels so tiring…”

you noticed how his fingers were rubbing the letters of ‘i love you’ on your back. you carefully lifted your arms and hugged him back, your fingers tracing the shape of a heart right below his shoulder. a silent ‘i love you, too’. 

“will a movie marathon cheer you up?” you asked after a few while. “i can make you some ice cream sandwiches, too, if you want.”

“with milk bread?” he muttered into your neck.

“with milk bread.” 

you felt his lips form a smile against your skin, and despite how you couldn’t see it, it felt more genuine this time. 

© POWCHAKKO 2023, do not copy, modify, or repost my work onto other platforms.

#akaashi's is the shortest one despite him being my fav character T^T #imo oikawa's is the best in this one lol #ASDFGHJJDFGHJK RLLY HOPING THIS FIRST POST WILL DO WELL #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #★ ── asha.writes

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5K! Wow, that's so incredible, and I'm so happy for you!!! Congratulations omg

I was wondering if I could request a drabble of Mr Soap MacTavish (2022) where the reader is fixing up his wounds, and he's just staring at the reader with the biggest heart eyes and that's when he says "I love you" for the first time???

—Heart-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

You sigh and slip on your sterile gloves, hearing the snap of the latex as they conform to your flesh in all of their blue, tight glory. 

“I warned you they would pull,” your voice levels, exasperation making lines spring to life on your forehead and squiggle. “Do you ever listen to me?” 

“Always, Dearie.” The Scot behind you holds a rag to his head, blood dripping off the corner and slipping down his arm. On his square face, he holds a small smirk. “Now, what I didn’t expect was a madman rushin’ me as he did—didn’t mean to rip all of your stitches, but I was more worried about the knife two inches from my damn eye, if ya understand.” 

You fight down a smile, rolling your eyes before grabbing the handle of the utility cart and turning to face Johnny—raising a teasing brow in the process. 

“I’m fond of my sutures, MacTavish. I hope you know that I’m highly offended right now.” Lips twitching, the mohawked man tilts his head, leaning against the examination table still in gear and with his free hand situated at his neck; handing off his vest’s collar. 

“I’m sure there’s still at least one under here that’ll call to your expertise, Ma’am.”

“There better,” you mumble, fake glaring at your boyfriend of one year. He chuckles, reaching out a hand as you come near and drag your cart with you. 

As if it’s a chore, you sigh loudly and let him bring you into his arms. Your grip wraps around his waist and you sag into the wide frame and his natural warmth—Johnny’s hand spans your back, firm as his thumb lightly moves up and down. 

His sapphire blues soften as he stares down at you, stubble moving back in a smile. You rest your chin on his chest as he lightly presses the rag deeper into his forehead. 

“It’ll scar,” you say slowly. “Especially if it got even more damaged by the fall.” 

“Ah,” he whispers, breath hitting your head as your lashes flutter. Johnny’s chest grumbles with every word, accent deep and rich. “Think I’ll be just as handsome, then? That’s all that’s going to matter.”

You laugh at the exaggeration, lips peeling in a grin. “The most handsome, Johnny. It’s surprising that the entire world doesn’t stand still when you enter a room. Add in another face scar and people will faint when they come near.”

The Scot huffs, but a sheepish sheen splays over his cheeks, and a giddy smile grows when you call him handsome.

“Knew I wasn’t the only one that thought it.” Sharing a laugh, you pull back. The man pouts before you lightly hit his thigh with the back of your hand. 

“Hey!” Johnny grunts out. “Watch the arm, Hen, it’ll leave a mark—”

You kiss him with a grin, feeling the man start forward to meet you with no hesitation and sigh deeply, stubble scratching against your skin in the most delicious way possible. His arm grabs onto your hip and the rag at his flesh loosens—the blood drip-drip-dripping as his fingers dig into your scrubs. 

When his teeth nip your lip, you chuckle into his mouth and lean out of his hold to reach for your supplies. Johnny frowns in false disappointment but still yields to you when you carefully take away his soiled rag to stare at the damage. 

A bloody mess of open skin forms a head wound that makes your face dip with seriousness. Humming in your throat, you lightly touch the area as Johnny winces. You utter an apology and kiss his hand as it comes up to brush at your cheek, unable to be away from you.

“Hm,” the Scot doesn't notice his flinch when you numb the area, the needle digging into the thin skin. All he sees is you. 

“Bad?” He asks, letting you slant from in between his legs and grab the saline solution.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” Softly staring, you prep the area for sutures, oblivious to the pair of eyes that conform to a delicate roundness of tender affection. Like the contents of a great love poem of old, Johnny is distracted from the pain by your supple touch—breathing in your scent like a field of wildflowers as your body lay in his easy clutch. 

Humming a tune under your breath, you let Johnny’s arms encase you, not minding the left-over blood he spreads as your needle driver moves a sterilized needle through lightly tanned flesh. Tissue forceps grab and manipulate where you see fit, but your attention is solely focused on getting your Lover better. 

Johnny breathes deeply, barely feeling the pressure of the digging point. When you’re about halfway done, the man grunts out the easiest words he’s ever uttered to light.

“I love you, Little Lady.” Your eyes flash to a widened stare into his held skin, the needle poking out of his bloody mess of glistening redness. 

It was no trial to anyone to see how much you two loved each other—the entire base was aware of your relationship; the other nurses relentlessly teased you when the only help Johnny would accept was from you or your head doctor. And the Scot had said multiple times the only reason that the doctor was in his book was that, if the injury was beyond what you were allowed to work on, you’d be unable to help unless the individual was there. 

It was in the touches, the kisses filled with warmth and reverence—the way he looked at you. A blind man could notice it just by the way he talked about you on Leave if you weren’t able to join. 

“She’d like that.”

“My Hen would lose her head over this; let me get a picture.”

“Hell’s bells, wait a moment—need to buy this for my Dearie. She’ll put it to good use.”

And you, of course, leaned into him with equal worship whenever able. Reveled in his great weight at night as his head rested on your stomach, Johnny’s body between your legs and lips muttering into your flesh in a deep sleep on his chest. Arms so tight around you his biceps would gain size as if he was flexing and not just pressing you up into him.

But this was the first. 

The first confession. The first declaration of love. 

You don’t know why, but saying it made it feel so much more real. 

Your eyes slide to the side, looking into those deep blues with all of their loveliness; their hues and flecks of stars trapped like ocean waves dancing in moonlight. Wisps of stories you’d yet to uncover. Blinking, your expression evens out as the minute stretches—that look on the man’s face still staying. 

You chuckle softly. 

“Took you long enough, MacTavish.” 

A breathless kiss. A shuttered exhale. 

“...Then I’ll be sure to make you never doubt it.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty x you #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #tw: gore #tw: injury #tw: wounds #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #johhny soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #john mactavish #mw x reader

[bloatedandalone04]

Tainted Heart

➪the one where you encourage ethan's thirst for the kill. (requested)

Warnings: 18+, mentions of death, reader is just as crazy as ethan (if not more), smut, sub ethan, dom reader, handjobs, praise kink, ethan is whipped tbh

Word Count: 1.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

“Local student by the name of Jensen Watts was brutally murdered last night,” you read the article out loud, holding your phone with one hand while your other trailed down Ethan’s shirt covered chest. “Witnesses say the cause of death was due to multiple stab wounds to the stomach and chest.”

You toss your phone onto the carpet, sliding your other hand down his chest and scrunching his shirt in between your fingers. Ethan tenses up at your touch, his head leaning back and resting against your chest.

The light from the fire tinted the room orange and lit him up in the most beautiful way, creating a soft hue against his skin. “The stomach,” you whisper in his ear, creating goosebumps along his skin. “Your favorite spot. You know it’s my favorite, too.”

Ethan holds back a whine when your fingers pulled up his dark henley and traced along the lines of his stomach. 

“Did you do it for me?” You ask, tugging on his ear with your teeth. 

“Yes,” he whispered, refraining from bucking his hips at your feather light touches. “All for you.” 

You smile at that, peppering kisses down his jaw before pausing at the base of his neck. “You know that guy from my biology class? Daren?” Ethan hummed in response, leaning further into your touches. “He hit on me today. Said he could please me better than my shy, quiet boyfriend could. Can you believe that?” 

Ethan locked his jaw at your words, opening his eyes and staring into the flames that were a mere three feet from him. 

“Will you do something about it? For me?” You sweetly ask. “Teach him a lesson so he doesn’t go after girls who are taken ever again?” 

You grip his jaw and forcefully turn his head to the left, making his eyes meet yours. Gently stroking your fingers down the side of his face, you brush your nose against his, a teasing smile on your lips. “I’ll kill him,” Ethan mutters, a deadly glint in his eyes that makes your smile widen. 

“I know you will,” you say and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’d do anything for me, right?”

Ethan nodded, brushing his lips against yours again. “Anything you could ever want,”

You run your hand down his chest and stop at the waist line of his dark jeans, slipping your thumb past the fabric. “You’re so good to me. Treat me so well,” you murmur against his mouth, your hand disappearing beneath the rough material. “I want to show you how much I love and appreciate you. Will you let me?” 

He nodded again, quicker this time as he lifted his body off yours. He leaned forward, his face lit up by the fire even more as he nearly tore his shirt off and tossed it aside. 

As he did this, you leaned against the couch while getting into a more comfortable position, extending your arms open. Ethan moved and shifted so his back was once again pressed to your front. 

With his skin now exposed, your hands trace all over his shoulders. Your thumb gently pressed against the thin but long scar just above his collarbone, the one he got when one of his victims fought back and got a slice in before he regained control. “You’re so brave,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “So strong…..fearless.”

Ethan sighed at your words, leaning his head back to rest on your shoulder. You reach around his body and unzip his jeans, popping open the button afterwards. Shoving down the rough fabric as best as you could, you trace your fingers over him through the black material of his boxers. 

His breath hitched and you smiled at the way his hips lifted so you would press harder against him. “So needy,” you whisper, pressing the side of your face against his. You keep your hand on him, now beginning to palm him through the fabric, and move your other one to rest on his shoulder. “Just calm down. It’s only you and I, baby.”

Ethan whimpered at your words and the way you said them. God, was this man whipped for you. 

You slip your hand past the waistband of his boxers and free him, grinning at how hard he got in so little time. You thanked whoever was listening that your parents weren’t home. It allowed you and Ethan to have the house to yourselves, and fuck did he ever look pretty in this lighting. 

All lights were off and the glow from the fire made him look flawless. His shadow flickered behind you, as did yours, and the two of you were the only things lit up by the flames. It made Ethan’s skin even hotter as he tried to listen to your words.

His tense shoulders softened and he became limp in your arms, giving in and surrendering himself completely to you. 

You whisper another praise in his ear before wrapping your hand around the base of him. You loosely stroke him while placing kisses to the side of his face, listening to his quiet moans as a fire burns in the pit of your stomach. 

Ethan began letting out whines and whimpers, nothing bothering to hold them back as he knew you loved the way he sounded in moments like this one. You had told him more than once that he was so effortlessly hot and the sounds he makes when you please him is your favorite thing in the whole world.

And how could he not be vocal when you took such good care of him?

Tightening your hold on him, you apply more pressure and swipe your thumb across the tip. Ethan’s hips jolt forward at that, his head leaning even further back on your shoulder and his eyes closing. 

He looked so hot like this and you couldn’t help but speed up the pace of your hand, watching as his brows furrowed and his lips parted. You lean down and begin sucking on the skin of his neck, leaving dark purple marks as you please. He tilted his head to give you better access, something you smirk at. He was always so responsive. 

Ethan let out a quiet moan and then a louder one when you set a fast and steady pace. Your thumb continued to run along his tip as your fingers stroked him up and down. 

His sounds fueled the fast movement of your hand and they were more than enough to satisfy you at this point. The only thing on your mind was him and getting him to that point of euphoria that only you had the pleasure of doing. 

Ethan was a shy and quiet virgin when you met him and allowed you to be the first person to experience him. And what an experience that was. But that was months ago, and ever since then he had been like a starved animal. Nothing you gave him was ever enough. You had turned him into a touch-starved mess in just a few months and to say you didn’t pride yourself on that would be a lie.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his hand reaching beside him to grip your knee. “Please.” he whined and you slowed your hand at that, attempting to prolong this as best as you could. 

“Don’t tell me you’re close already,” you murmur, your free hand sliding up to tug on his hair. Ethan bucked his hips upwards in hopes to get you to return to the fast pace like before. “Are you really that desperate?”

“I can’t help it,” he mumbles, turning his head to press a kiss to your chin. “You treat me so well, so good.”

You softly smile at that, pressing your lips to his in response. Ethan whined against your mouth, pressing harder against you when your hand picked up the pace once more, stroking his length quicker and swiping your thumb against his tip more frequently. 

Ethan breaks the kiss and hides his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, his brows nearly pressing together as his lips parted. His stomach flexed and tensed up, only making your fast pace continue as you knew he was seconds away from coming undone. 

You leaned forward so your mouth was next to his ear before whispering, “Come for me,” 

Your breath on his skin created goosebumps and his hands gripped the blanket beneath the two of you, his knuckles turning white a few seconds later as he came.

His throaty moans were lost to the skin of your neck, his eyes squeezing shut as you slowed down your strokes and allowed him to ride out his high. 

He pulls away from you seconds later and you bring your hand up to your mouth, keeping eye contact with him. You suck on your fingers, clearing remnants of his release from your thumb within seconds. He watched you with heavy eyes, his mouth still open as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. 

His hands gripped your waist and bunched up your shirt in between his fingers as you took it upon yourself to clean him up with his discarded shirt. You zipped jeans back up when you pulled away, tilting your head to the side when Ethan began placing kisses along your shoulder. “Let me get you off now,” he said, his fingers beginning to lift your shirt up. “Please.”

You pull away from him and grip his chin, making his eyes meet yours. “You can get me off once you’ve dealt with Daren,” 

Ethan pouted at that, trying to close the distance once again but you kept a firm hold on him. “Please. Let me kiss you,” he whined and you rolled your eyes before giving in and letting him kiss you once again.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream 6 ethan #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 x reader #scream 6

[almond-tofuuu]

Hi I see you're opening request, so I'm here to ask for one. Thank you so much!

Plot: Zayne anger and his punishment when he find out you lied to him and get yourself in dangerous.

anon are you a mind reader?! 👀 bc I've had a draft of this sat in my wip folder for ages!!!

Hope you enjoy!! 💕

Sorry isn't enough...

Zayne x reader

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, no comfort, Zayne is mad (and possibly ooc)

Might do a part 2 (with a happy ending as an apology for this)

Zayne doesn't yell. In fact, in all the time you'd known him you couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Sure he got annoyed with you sometimes, mainly when you ignored his advice or turned up at the hospital with yet another injury, but it never boiled over into anger. He'd scold you like a child, giving the occasional icy glare, but nothing more. So when you limped into his office today, an hour late for your appointment and caked in dirt and dried blood, you were prepared to receive another lecture about safety from your primary care physician.

The minute you opened the door and took the first unsteady step into his office, you knew something was off. The air held an icy chill, causing a shiver to run down your spine, the tension increasing with every step. You could feel the pressure of Zayne's eyes on you as you approached his desk, piercing green gaze scrutinising every aspect of your appearance, taking note of every scrape and bruise, every smudge of blood that stained your skin and clothes.

"You're late." Emotionless and cold, his voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had been present since you entered his office. Swallowing thickly, you finally meet his eyes, and immediately regret it. His expression is hard, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes which usually hold a tenderness whenever he looks at you are dark, and swirling with a storm of fury. Zayne is pissed.

Opening your mouth, the apology on the tip of your tongue quickly dies at the sound of Zayne's exasperated sigh. "If you're planning on apologising I'd suggest you save your breath. I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to whatever feeble excuses you plan on giving." His harsh tone hits you like an avalanche, burying you in the disappointment that is practically radiating from him. "I've warned you time and time again to be careful, to prioritise your safety and yet you seem determined not to listen. I've lost count of how many times you've limped into my office. You refuse to listen to my advice yet you come to me whenever your recklessness results in another injury. Tell me, do you insist on continuing this foolish behaviour until it undoubtedly causes your death?!"

A lump forms in your throat, eyes fixed on the floor as you desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Every cruel word Zayne seethes is another knife to your heart, cutting deep and carving themselves into your flesh. And despite your best efforts, you can't stop the choked sob that escapes your lips. Because it hurts. Seeing the man who has always treated you so gently fuming with rage, steely glare freezing you where you stand, forcing you to endure the brunt of his anger. His words melt together, flooding your mind and making your ears ring as they echo on repeat inside your head. You're so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his disappointment that you don't even realise you're crying until a cold hand touches your cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear. His breath fans your face as he exhales a tired sigh, "come here, let me see your wounds" his voice is softer now, having lost its previous venom but his outburst has left a sour taste in your mouth. You pull away from his touch, shaking your head slightly as you wipe away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"I can take care of it myself...I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further." You utter, keeping your voice steady and void of emotion. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with my reckless behaviour anymore. Goodbye, Dr Zayne." Turning away from him you quickly make your way out of his office, ignoring the calls of your name, determined not to let him see you fall apart completely. With each step you can feel your heart breaking more, bleeding out and flooding your chest with every crushing word Zayne spat at you. You're not sure where you're heading, vision blurring with tears, you just know that the last place you want to be is with Zayne.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lnds zayne #lnds #angst #zayne x you #lnd

[nightgoodomens]

Imagine Crowley is captured.

Imagine Metatron wants to kill him.

Imagine Aziraphale only finding out because he can suddenly feel Crowley is close, so he has to be in Heaven but where?

So he goes looking for him. Quickly. He’s worried. Something doesn’t feel right. There is something very wrong. He’s panicking.

He finally finds Crowley, being held down by archangels, and he’s trashing trying to escape them, wounds on his body bleeding on the floor.

Metatron is standing over him with Aziraphale’s flaming sword.

And Aziraphale screams what are you doing to him?!

And other angels grab him to stop him from trying to go between Metatron and Crowley.

Leave him alone!

Now it’s Aziraphale trashing, trying to push them away as they’re pulling him away from Crowley.

He stops terrified seeing them pulling Crowley into a kneeling position, Metatron nearly pressing the sword to the side of Crowley’s neck. He’s shaking from the pain, as still as possible to avoid the sword actually touching him, but it’s already burning his skin.

Aziraphale realises that they’re hurting him with his sword. They’re trying to kill him with his sword.

And then he sees Metatron taking a swing and Aziraphale screams.

NO!

Crowley opens his eyes because he’s not sure if he died or… he wasn’t dead. Metatron is starring at him terrified. Crowley is still kneeling. The sword is an inch away from Crowley’s heart. Frozen in place. The fire was out.

Crowley looks to the side and Aziraphale is kneeling, and there is a white glow surrounding him, his halo shining bright over his head.

Is he so bright that it makes Heaven suddenly look grey or he took all its power to save him?

There were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes but not from regret. He was angry. He was so angry and betrayed. So terrified for Crowley.

You are going to fall for this!

Crowley could hear Metatron’s sneer towards Aziraphale but the angel and demon were still looking at each other, eyes locked. Crowley felt anger building in him at Metatron’s words, but he was so exhausted and hurt…

And then he felt energy coming back to him and he knew it was Aziraphale.

You fool!

Metatron shouted at Aziraphale and Crowley felt more than anger, something breaking in him too.

You see, demons could do very little while in Heaven, any demonic move impossible.

But Aziraphale just cut Heaven’s power off.

And Crowley felt all his demonic powers awakening and rushing into him all at once.

He saw Metatron taking a step back and Crowley smiled. It’s a smile Aziraphale would have been terrified of normally.

Aziraphale has never seen Crowley’s true demonic form before.

And here he is, right in front of him, in Heaven out of all places, eyes turning red and looking at Metatron, dark shadows surrounding him, there is a sneer and a hiss in the air that feels like it’s coming from everywhere, but it’s Crowley and suddenly his black wings appear, bigger than ever, throwing the archangels away from him harshly.

And Aziraphale thinks he looks like the devil.

No. You are going to fall today.

And Aziraphale swears Crowley’s lips have not moved yet they heard the terrifying voice, and Aziraphale gasps shocked because Crowley is standing up, his wings putting them all in darkness and Metatron’s wings start burning.

He screams and Aziraphale has never seen anyone fall but it’s terrifying and Metatron disappears after a long, painful moment.

Aziraphale can feel the power snapping again and he stumbles because he can’t hold it anymore and the bright whiteness hits him and Crowley.

At once he sees Crowley’s wings disappearing, as well as the darkness surrounding him and the red colour from his eyes, and Aziraphale catches him in his arms as he collapses.

Crowley…!

#this was meant to be an idea #but became a little fic #just while you wait for proper fic updated #good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow fanfiction

[specialagentlokitty]

Will Graham x reader - non traditional family

Will with a reader who loves dogs just as much as him and brings home a rescue dog that had been treated really bad in its previous home and them just trying to get the dog to trust them, if you’re willing to write for it that is <3 - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

Sitting in the doorway to the bathroom, you smiled a little to the dog that was sat in the far corner of the room, head down watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Here Hugo.”

You placed a treat on the floor and slid it over to him, and he shuffled back a little bit, cautiously sniffing it.

You had set up a barricade to stop the other dogs from coming over, but you did get up, closing the bathroom door and made your way over with some treats for them.

You scratched behind their ears, giving them all treats, not bothering to look up as the front door was opened.

“Why is half the house sectioned off?” Will asked.

“I did a thing. And these guys can’t come into the area yet.”

Will looked at you as he shrugged his jacket off, petting all the dogs as he made his way through them all.

“What did you do?” He asked.

He stepped over the stairgates that you had put up around the place to keep the other dogs away from the bathroom.

You placed your hand on his chest, making him stop in his tracks, and you brought your hand up to his head, touching the bandaid that was on his forehead.

“What’s happened love?” You asked.

“Suspect charged at me, he hit my head of the wall. It’s fine.”

You slowly nodded your head, brushing some hair away from his face.

Will stared into your eyes for a moment before he leant down, and you met him halfway to kiss him.

He placed his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place before he moved away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“It’s fine..” he mumbled.

“I worry…”

“I know. Are you going to tell me what you did?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and held out your hand to him, letting him decide if he what he wanted to do, and he placed his hand in yours.

You led him over to the bathroom, hovering your other hand over the door handle.

“Gotta keep quiet, he’s scared.”

“He?”

You slowly opened the door, and you sat back down in the doorway.

Will looked at the dog that had laid down, still facing the door.

He crouched behind you, resting his arms on his knees.

“What’s his name?”

“Hugo, he’s a rescue from work, he came in today. He was caged constantly, and was being trained as a fighting dog, we believe he’s a German shepherd but we can’t be sure until his coat grows back properly, but he’s got all the features of one.”

Will nodded his head.

“His health?”

“A little malnutrition, some wounds that need healing, and he was covered in ticks, but we vaccinated him today, he doesn’t have fleas, and he’s not aggressive to other dogs just scared.”

Will reached down into the pocket of your sweater, pulling out a couple a treats.

He sat against the other part of the doorframe, sitting opposite you, his legs over yours.

He leant over, setting a treat on the floor and pushed it over slightly while you just watched, taking mental notes of Hugo’s behaviour.

Will glanced over at you, watching as you studied the new addition to the pack, and he turned back to Hugo.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since this afternoon. He came in this morning but couldn’t handle being in the kennel.”

Will nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, but I did bring some food home. I forgot to make dinner though, sorry.”

Getting up, Will brushed his hand over your shoulder, making his way into the kitchen.

“I can’t see you.”

You moved to the side he was sat on, and sat further into the hallway so he was able to see you from where he was stood.

You smiled softly at him.

“So, what did you do today?”

“You don’t want to know.”

You laughed softly.

“I do, you know I do. I like hearing about your day.”

Will glanced up from where he was stood and went back to preparing the food, telling you about his day.

He went front start to finish, leaving out anything that seemed a little too intense, and you just sat there listening to him, occasionally checking on Hugo.

You ate there, and when it came to going to sleep, you closed the door again, making sure the other dogs couldn’t get in.

Making your way over to the bed you stood at the side of it and Will looked up from his book, smiling slightly at you.

“Are you coming to bed?” He asked.

Will knew full well what you were waiting for, and he just sat there waiting for you to say it and you stood there stubbornly for a few minutes.

After being stubborn your finally sat on the bed next to him, lifting his arm so you were able to get under it, resting your head on his chest.

Will dropped his arm over your shoulder, putting his book in his other hand, resting his hand on your head.

“Are you staying home tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to?”

You nodded a little.

“Okay, I’ll stay. What do you have planned?”

“Nothing really, we both have the day off, and I’m lazy and don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Well, how about ice fishing? Will you come with me if I go?”

“You know I will love.”

Will smiled a little to himself, turning his attention back to his book while you just laid over him, moving every so often.

Now you were laid with your back on his chest, his hand in yours resting on your stomach.

Will was asleep, and you were still awake, unable to sleep, you hadn’t been able to sleep for a few hours, so you finally got up.

You kissed the side of Will’s head, making your way off the bed and grabbed one of his jackets, pulling it on and you made your way towards the bathroom.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and laid down on the other side of the room to Hugo who was watching you.

You smiled at the dog, and rested an arm under your head to try sleep in there.

Thankfully you did after a short while.

Will wake up from a nightmare, and he searched around the bed for you and he shot up when he couldn’t find you.

“(Y/N)?”

Will stood up, throwing the sheets from the bed.

“(Y/N)?!” He whisper yelled.

He checked the couch to see if you went to sleep on there, knowing sometimes you would go there if you couldn’t sleep.

You weren’t in there so he turned to the kitchen, making his way over he stopped by the bathroom and opened the door.

He turned the light on and Hugo shot up from being laid in the middle of the floor and went back over to the other side of the room.

You grumbled a little bit and he turned the light back out.

Will laid down next to you, his arm over your waist.

“Sorry…” he whispered.

He touched his forehead against yours, closing his eyes again and you brought your hand up to run it through his hair.

“Nightmare…?”

He nodded his head, you rolled on to your back, lifting his head to rest it on your shoulder.

“It’s okay…” you whispered.

You and Will went out the next day, leaving a shirt that belong to you both in the bathroom for Hugo, and you carried on sleeping in there with the dog.

You did everything you needed to earn his trust, slowly letting him meet the other dogs, letting him explore every so often.

“I think we should get another dog.”

“Really?” Will asked.

“Yeah, you can never have too many dogs.”

Will looked at you from where he was stood at the other end of the bed.

You grinned at him.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve all taken over the bed.”

You ran a hand over Hugo’s head as he laid next to you, holding your other arm out for Will.

“There’s always room for you.”

“It’s fine, I’m going for a walk. Will you be alright here?”

“Have you seen our dogs? Of course I will.”

Will walked over, leaning down to gently kiss you, and he walked over to the door, whistling and all the dogs aside from Hugo ran after him.

“Will that’s not fair!”

You got up, walked over to where he was already holding out your jacket for you.

You pulled your shoes on and slipped into your jacket, calling for Hugo who nervously came padding over.

“I knew you’d come.”

“You took my dogs…”

“Your dogs? I didn’t know my dogs were your dogs.”

Will opened the door for you.

“What’s yours is mine love.”

He hummed a little bit, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind you.

“Does that mean that whatever you have is mine then?” Will asked.

“Yup.”

You carried on walking, occasionally throwing a snowball for the dogs to chase and will just kept a close eye on you and Hugo

#Hannibal #Hannibal x reader #Hannibal x you #Hannibal imagine #will Graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #will Graham imagine

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Winterstorm

For @turbulentscrawl

Rated Mature | Warnings: Age difference between Reader and Ithaqaua, Manipulation, Rumors

A/N: ngl i was playing stardew while writing this lolol

It was a stormy winter night when his mother found him. It was a stormy winter night when you found him wounded after killing a group of hunters in the forest.

In the hazy of his hallucinating mind, he saw his mother calling out to him, for him to wake up. He reached out to that image not realizing he was reaching for his new savior.

When he woke up after the storm passed, he was under blankets that felt warm and in a room smelling of spice and wood. He jerked awake and got up, he touched his bare chest finding someone had patched him up. Cloth bandages and stitching for the deeper wounds. The Night Watch knows his body aches, his body protesting as he gets up carefully not to make too much noise. He wills himself to endure as he grabs his shirt and coat from the chair by the window, he swears to rest but not here—Not where he will be left further vulnerable!

He struggles to get his shirt on so ops for his coat only stop when the door opens. He grabs his weapon but stops as he hisses in pain.

You come in with a small bed tray of food, his stomach growls at the scent, “You're awake.” A bit surprised given his wounds, “Oh, if you want to leave I can help you dress.”

His eyes narrow as takes in the sight of you, his eyes sometimes glancing at the simple food you made. “Leave.” You move to go back out, “Food stays.” That made you happy though.

The boy, because to you he is a boy, was in bad shape when you found him. Malnourished, wounded, and you are surprised he did not succumb to hypothermia. You Luckily had your cart from gathering wood before the storm hit severely after you brought him home.

Listening with your ear against the door, you can hear him going to the bed and eating the simple porridge you made, shuffling after and you hear your bedroom window being opened then closed.

You do not expect to see him again, you did your good deed and that was that.

Until you see him again while you are foraging for some mushrooms and roots in the Icy Forest. There in the distance, he stands staring at you from a distance. Piercing blue irises watching your movements for who knows how long until you notice.

“Hello,” He stares silently, “Have you been taking care of yourself?” You step closer, “Do you need more food?”

A snap of twigs draws your attention from him to a deer roaming around. When you look back, the strangely dressed boy is dashing away.

“Wait!” But it is too late.

That will be the first of many interactions with the creature you have no clue is called the Night Watch.

“Good morning, Ithaqua.” He hums at you as you start preparing breakfast, “Going out?”

“Yes.” His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his head on your back, “You should stay home today.”

“The weather is nice today, we should go see if the store in town has any fabric.”

“Or we can go see the lake instead.” His hold squeezing slightly, “You like the lake better than the store.”

You sigh, he does not like you going to town. You figure it because he lived in the forest for so long alone that interacting with others is stressful.

It took a lot to gain his trust, you figure there is a reason for the way he is but never push to talk about it. Everyone has their past.

“Ithaqua, we need things around the house.” Reminding him both of you cannot survive by using the vegetables in your garden. Other things are needed. You worry about him, worry about how he is quick to isolate rather than try to, at least, see the use of being around others. The little town is not so bad… Even if the rumors about you can be cruel.

No one sees the real dynamic between you and the boy— Because they all see him as a boy rather than a man— Who lives in the woods, but now he practically lives with you, hunting and gathering for you to earn his keep— Though you told him he does not need to do so.

They think you are manipulating him, using him as he is young and lacking social experience…

He finds that amusing how little they think of him, a poor little sheep none realize is a wolf under the wool.

“I can get them.”

“Are you sure? I do not want to bother—

“You are not bothering me. I want you safe and you say we need supplies, I will get them.”

You stand there unsure but nod in the end, maybe you can finish your plowing of the garden while he is away, “Okay…” He hums at your agreement, his hands rubbing the fabric of your apon as you go back to food prep, “I'll make us something warm to eat.”

Ithaqua is young, not a child, but young. You are older, much older, old enough to be a parent to him.

At first, you treated him as such. He seems receptive to it as he soon became a part of your life.

But something changed, you did not notice it until it was too late and you are sheep held down by the wolf's paw.

Only a handful of times has Ithaqua been to the town, if you could call it a town as it is a bit bigger than a village but smaller than an actual town. The few folks that did see him feared him, he looked strange with the mask and the stilts. They kept their distance, and you had to assure them he was just a mountain man, not a creature.

Something about a Night Watch but no one has ever seen that thing.

The town's people already are wary of you, you who live alone on the outskirts of town. You try to socialize but they turn you away until they need something. The irony, Ithaqua finds this ridiculous, you are often looked to in times of need because of your garden. You always plant things that do well in wintertime, planting and growing bundles to give away on Sundays after church service.

He swears they are all idiots, at least the pastor is sensible and grateful for you.

The new problem the town has with you— Rather than the ones who act like pompous dogs— Is you are using this poor boy. Funny, in reality, Ithaqua is not using you but he is slowly having you become more and more isolated from those fools.

This problem did not start until he was approached by one of the young women in the town. The mill's owner's daughter. The annoying thing, he saw in the Icy Forest once and would have killed her if he was not busy bringing meat to you.

It was the spring festival and you asked him to help you with the decorations and to hopefully get him to be social.

All you asked of him was to not wear the usual outfit he wears. Instead, you gifted him your father's spring festival attire. He looked handsome as he wore your father's clothes, tailored to fit his thin frame. You thought this would be a great step for him!

You told him at any time he is welcome to go join in the festivities, especially the flower dance. He knew what you were trying to do, he only humored you.

You stayed at the stall talking to the town mayor as he complements the decorations you have made this year.

People are fools, Ithaqua hates them but likes you, he did not talk while wandering around the festival. A few tried interacting with him, he permitted it for the moment at that time for your sake. How stupid of them to assume so much about him when all they know about him is as much as he allows them to know.

A young man named Ithaqua, a wild man who sticks to you like a boy to his mothers— They assumed the relationship from the beginning. You did too.

“I love (Name), I don't want you.”

Cold as ice water.

The woman was bitter and the rumors had added to many others about you.

Ithaqua could care less about what others think, they are the ones who beg you for help when someone is sick or needs extra food.

You are like a mother to them, yet they act ungrateful.

Winter is getting closer and closer, they will look to you for help and Ithaqua grins as soon they will find you gone by next spring.

When he returns with the wagon of supplies, you greet him with a hug. The Night Watch knows you are trying to be affectionate to him but you hold back, you never kiss him or allow him to indulge in your flesh. Just hugs and kisses on the cheek, you poor thing thinking he changed his stance on wanting you.

You accepted this relationship, and he knows you did it out of maybe some misplaced sense of guilt, he has you in his grasp. All you need to do is stop caring about what others think about you.

A problem soon to be solved.

Once everything is put away, he has you cornered in the bedroom pinned down on the bed with him above you with nothing but pants on. You stare up at him then look away.

“You don't need them.” Leaning down to kiss your cheek then moving down.

“Ithaqua, we talked about this.” You try pulling your wrists out of his grasp but it holds firm. For such a small build man, he is surprisingly strong. “They are just nervous people.”

“Nervous people? They are hateful people, (Name), stop making excuses for them.” His eyes narrow and he bites at the top exposed part of your neck. “They rather burn you at the stake than admit they are wrong about you.”

“Ithaqua…” That is not true! People are people but not all of them are cruel.

“Think about it,” Licking the mark as you had flinched from the pain at first. “The mayor doesn't help you yet you do so much for the town. The pastor preaches but no one listens. The doctor's monthly checkups are just to see if you sprouted horns and a tail.”

“Please. Not tonight.” Begging him. Those words are painful, he knows these talks are causing doubts as you are becoming more aware of the bitterness these people have towards you. 

After the spring festival, you… You sat him down. Talk to Ithaqua as much as you could that evening. Your words twisted against you, you are too trusting with him. His metaphorical claws raked through your wool but never pierced the flesh of the sheep. You are trapped but loved.

Ithaqua enjoys this more than you ever will know.

It was too late to stop the rumors when those feelings were reciprocated, you… You are lonely and though Ithaqua is much younger than you… He is an adult, far more mature than the men at your age too.

Twenty-one winters, he told you, he should be married by now. He wants to marry you.

Guilt. A lot of guilt. You slip from under him when tries to grind his lower half against yours.

“How about I make your favorite tonight? I got some extra tomatoes–” Stand up beside the bed while Ithaqua sits there with his legs wide open.

“I'm not a child. We should leave before they hurt you, there is no need to put on a brave face for me.” He is going to devour you but you need to stop running from him! “We can leave. They are not grateful to you.” You shake your head at his words, he stands up and holds your face, “It will only be a matter of time before they hurt you.”

He smiles as you crumble, holding you as you fall to your knees and covering your face as you cry. This home your family built and lived in since you were born. The blood, sweat, and tears; the memories, the love within this home.

“Ithaqua.” He cradles you as you turn to cry into his bare chest.

A small crack, he chips away at you, the others were fools to think you were manipulating him.

Laughable given you had tried hard to get him to meet those of his age.

Why bother?

He likes you, older and experienced, you give him the care of a mother and the love of a partner. No one his age could give him that, they were all too free-spirited and reckless.

The Night Watch wants someone to greet him upon his return home, shower him with love, and if the mood strikes him— Lay with him as accustomed for partners to do.

“(Name),” Rubbing your back, “I love you.” You told him he is too young to understand the weight of those words. “I will take care of us.” Making promises of taking sole responsibility is not fair, you told him yet you do it all the time.

When winter came followed by another snowstorm and the people looked to you for your winter’s crop that Sunday, you were not there. Nor were there the many Sundays after that. The pastor with two other people went looking for you, only the pastor cared to check in on you.

The house was buried in the snow, the garden destroyed. There is no trace of you or the mysterious young man who came into your life. There are no bodies found, it is like you were there and are now suddenly gone.

Maybe you left, the pastor hopes you found a better place.

Or maybe the Night Watch claimed another victim.

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #idv night watch #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x you #ithaqua x reader #identity v ithaqua #ithaqua #night watch #night watch x reader #night watch x you #identity v night watch

[simplyholl]

The Villain’s Weapon Pt. 2

Summary: When you hit your head and lose your memory, you fall into Loki's clutches.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Smuttish. Memory loss. Villain Loki. Thanos.

A/N: Thank you @lokisgoodgirl for helping me get out of the corner I wrote myself into. ❤️

See my Masterlist here

Part One

Your breath hitches as your back presses against Loki’s hard torso. His arms wrap around you before slinging you down. He stands above you, and something about it feels familiar. Probably memories of him training you before. He reaches his hand out to help you up.

“That’s enough of that kind of training for today. After lunch, I will help you with your magic.” You follow him down to the basement area. He introduces you to Dr. Selvig who is helping him with the Tesseract. He gives you a tour, trying to jog your memory. He was still the only constant so far. He felt safe. He felt like home.

You held your hand out, concentrating. “It’s no use, Loki. I don’t remember how.” You sigh, ready to give up after twenty minutes had passed. Loki comes up behind you, placing his arm on yours, guiding yours upward. “Don’t think too hard. My mother taught me that it should come naturally. Close your eyes, relax.” Your shoulders slump, as you free your mind, only concentrating on his velvety voice.

“Think of something that makes you happy.” You turn to look at him. “I don’t remember what makes me happy.” You cast your eyes downward, cursing yourself for your situation. You would give anything to remember what your life was like. “Think of what has made you happy today. Surely there is something.”

You close your eyes again, thinking of how happy you were when you recognized Loki on the battlefield. How you were so relieved to have him there. You thought of how tenderly he patched your wounds, how his touch started a fire within you. “That’s it!” Loki shouts. You open your eyes, seeing a blue glow in your hand. You turn around, practically jumping into Loki’s arms. After two hours, you were managing your powers significantly better.

While you were taking a shower, the floral scent of your soap brought forth some memories. They were of your childhood and your parents. You were shocked you remembered anything at all. You hoped your next recovered memories would be of Loki. As you wash yourself, you ache between your legs thinking of him training you. You stroke yourself trying to soothe the ache and your mind fills with memories of your second boyfriend on top of you, thrusting sloppily. You quickly stop, ready to get out of the shower. It was overwhelming to remember so much at once.

“She is a fast learner. Her instincts are still there. She fights like she always has. In a few more weeks, she will be better than before. I can’t wait to see the looks on my brother and those imbeciles’ faces when they see their precious teammate helping me.” Loki gives The Other the update. “He still thinks this is a bad idea, Asgardian. But he won’t go back on his word, it’s only been a day, so you have some time to use her against them.”

Loki paces his bedroom. Why was the Titan so against his plan? He would show him that he was wrong. He had one of his goons prepare the evening meal. He insisted you dine together. He needed to keep an eye on you to make sure your memory hadn’t returned.

When you were finished, he walked you back to your room. “Loki, sorry if this is awkward, but I need to know something.” He nodded in response, curiosity eating away at him. “Have we ever?” You gesture between the two of you. His face lights up in surprise at your question. That was the last thing he thought you would ask.

“I’m only asking because of the way my body reacts to you. And I didn’t mean to look, but I noticed you were aroused when you left last night.” Loki takes a deep breath, considering his words carefully before answering. “No darling, we never had that kind of relationship. We are just friends working toward the same goal.” Disappointment floods you, but you try to hide it from him. “There was a time when you came onto me." You raise your eyebrows, already embarrassed by where this was going.

"The Avengers had us cornered. We were certain death was near. You confessed your desire for me and I was concerned you were going to rip my clothes off me before we escaped. But nothing happened. We never spoke of it again." You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You just had to ask. "Loki, I'm sorry. I just felt like there was something there. That's why I asked." You cover your face with your hands, trying to look anywhere but at him.

He was pleased with himself. He knew you were attracted to him, but now he made you think you were a wanton slut for him. That would make you avoid touching him more than necessary. It was for his benefit. If your unexpected touches and embraces were an everyday occurrence, he might grow fond of you. He could not let that happen.

But he couldn’t help but notice you looked disappointed. Did you want him that badly? Of course you did, he was a prince, a god, the rightful king of Asgard. And very soon he would rule over this pathetic planet. He watched you carefully. Chest heaving, eyes darkened, thighs clenched, you wanted something to happen when you asked him that.

Loki’s blue eyes gleam mischievously. He could tease you a little. He pins your body to the wall with his, leaving no room in between you. He trails his large hands over the straps of your dress, sliding one down your shoulder, he notices your breath hitch. He smiles satisfied with the effect he has on you.

“Is this what you want, little one? You want me to touch you?” You nod, knowing you would be unable to utter a coherent word. His fist trails between your breasts, stopping to cup one. He gives the tender flesh a firm squeeze. You think you might burst into flames if he doesn’t do something soon.

“Loki, please?” You beg, and you swear he’s holding back a laugh. “Please what?” He smiles. “Please touch me.” You beg him. He spreads your legs with his own. His large hand caresses your inner thigh. “Like this?” He asks you, hand getting higher.

His long fingers finally reach your damp panties. “Norns, you’re so wet for me already.” He purrs in your ear. “Hey boss” Clint bursts into your room, taking notice of Loki’s bulky body holding you against the wall, the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. How Loki’s hand is under your dress and you are both breathing heavily. “Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Clint clears his throat, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you need, Agent Barton?” Loki asks, fingers still caressing you through your panties. “Sir, The Other needs you to get into contact with him immediately.” Loki reluctantly pulls away from you. You whine when his fingers aren’t on you anymore. You see the smirk on Loki’s face when he hears it and the blush on Clint’s. “Lead the way then.” Loki gestures to Clint. They both leave the room, Loki doesn’t even look back at you as he exits.

Part Three

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @xorpsbane @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @itsybitchylittlewitchy @asgards-princess-of-mischief @usagishira @buttercupcookies-blog @donaweasley @mrsbarnes32557038 @sheris532 @el-zef

#loki x reader #loki #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x yn #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x reader smut #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki au #loki (marvel) #loki fanfiction #loki tom hiddleston #mcu loki #loki fanfction #loki mcu #loki reader insert #loki x yn smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #the villain’s weapon

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Eddie’s coming home from the hospital today, and Steve is quietly singing along to love songs like they’re on the radio, but they’re not; they must be just in his head.

Dustin wants to enjoy it, wants to simply look forward to calling the others; they have an ongoing list of songs Steve has sung unconsciously, ranked according to various degrees of embarrassment, the current winner being his butchering of German in Rock Me Amadeus.

But he can’t. He can’t enjoy any of it.

There’s a window open in the car.

Steve keeps it down unless it’s crazy bad rain, ever since he found out that Erica can get motion sick sometimes.

Dustin grips onto his knees.

He’d tried to convince himself it was all centred around the hospital. That he could contain it.

But now he’s in Steve’s car (Steve’s car! Familiar and safe, where there’s still that streak of mud along the inside of the door from Dustin’s sneakers); he’s in Steve’s car trying not to breathe, because every time he does, he sees those damn particles floating in front of him.

“Okay, what?” Steve says, sounding both amused and resigned.

Dustin sucks in the slightest amount of air that he can manage. “Hmm?”

“Dude, I know you. Whenever you’re this quiet, you want something from me.”

“That’s an erroneous conclusion,” Dustin says.

Steve is meant to say something like oh yeah, erroneous, blah, blah, blah.

But Dustin knows his delivery is off when Steve just gives him a sideways glance while they’re stuck in traffic—knows that Steve misinterprets whatever look is on his face, because the driver window is being quickly wound down, too.

“Hey, do you feel sick? I can pull over.”

“I’m good,” Dustin says, only just managing to suppress a shiver as more cold wind seeps inside.

Steve doesn’t seem particularly happy with that answer, but the traffic starts moving again, leaving him with no choice but to drive on.

“Okay, just—we’ll be five minutes tops, all right? Just look at the, uh, horizon.”

Dustin looks ahead.

Doesn’t mention that all he can see is what the sky looked like from the trailer roof.

-

There’s a stack of books at the end of Eddie’s hospital bed—Steve’s gone back to the car to get a cardboard box for them. Dustin spots Nancy’s copy of Little Women on the top of the pile.

(During a visit where Nancy had driven him over, Eddie had made them wait in the corridor for a full five minutes before telling them they could come in, and when they did he was clutching the book with red-rimmed eyes, staring at Nancy so accusingly that Dustin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Beth?” Nancy had said, fighting a smile at Eddie’s melodramatic sigh.

Eddie mimed throwing the book at her, careful not to actually damage it. “Fucking Beth.”)

Another book’s in danger of slipping off the edge of the bed; Dustin catches it before it can fall. Peter Pan. He flicks it open, sees a childishly crooked Property of Steve written in pencil on the title page.

Eddie’s pressing some folded clothes into a bag on the other side of the bed. He looks up.

And Dustin suspects that when he went to the bathroom, Steve and Eddie must’ve had some sort of conversation about him, because Eddie says, “Go sit down, I’ve got this,” like Dustin’s the one who’s been recovering in hospital.

“What, scared I’ll rip your books?” Dustin asks, and this time he knows he’s hit just the right tone of normality, just the right mixture of teasing and petulant, because Eddie snorts.

“Shuddup,” he says, and then he lunges for Dustin, ruffling his hair. His hand lingers for a second, tilting so the back of it touches Dustin’s forehead.

“What the hell?” Dustin says, shoving him off playfully.

Eddie’s still grinning from their tussle, but it fades a bit as he gives Dustin a once-over.

“Thought you looked a little peaked,” he says with a shrug.

Dustin forces an eye roll. “I’m fine.”

Eddie seems to accept that, but he pours an extra glass of water and leaves it on the table; and when Dustin takes it, his mouth opens, and Dustin silently pleads inside his head don’t ask me, don’t ask me, and—

Steve’s voice echoes down the corridor, soft and lilting: Islands in the Stream.

Eddie chuckles. “That’s another one for the list,” he tells Dustin, but his eyes glitter like he doesn’t find it embarrassing at all, and when he’s bundling up the books, his fingers trace the front cover of Peter Pan like it’s a rare gem.

Oh, Dustin thinks. Then: You’re so happy.

Steve enters the room with the cardboard box held aloft like it’s a trophy, and Eddie laughs, makes a quip: “Jesus Christ, we’re not at one of your basketball games, Steve.”

Steve grins, briefly bends his knees as if on the basketball court. “You wish.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shoots Dustin a look as if to say who does this guy think he is?

But his eyes are saying something else.

He passes the books over to Steve, chatting easily about whatever chapter he’d got up to, and their hands touch with such casual intimacy. There should be no space for them to worry here, Dustin decides—and so, for the rest of the day, commits to being the most carefree, boisterous version of himself he can manage.

-

It gets to the point where the window in his room is permanently shut.

Where he suddenly has this awful feeling of doubt—that this is something he should’ve called a code red over long ago.

He calls Will, twisting the phone cord around his fingers over and over, so tightly that it hurts.

“Will, you know when. Your—your episodes. The Mindflayer. What. What did it feel like?”

The ensuing silence makes shame run down his spine, cold as ice.

But when Will speaks, he doesn’t sound hurt, or even the slightest bit frightened.

“Why?” he asks.

“It.” Dustin grits his teeth. “I’m worried it might. Might be happening again.”

Another silence, and then Will says, very gently, “Dustin, it’s all closed off. I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Okay.” Dustin blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes. “Okay.”

“You… you know you can talk to me, right?” Will says, tentative and kind, too kind, because Will is the kid who disappeared, who’s had to deal with all this shit for years, stuff that Dustin could never—

“Yeah,” Dustin says.

“My mom, she’ll be home soon,” Will says, rushed suddenly, like he can sense Dustin’s about to hang up, “if you wanna—”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ve gotta go,” Dustin says all in one breath, and ends the call.

And he realises something—kind of hates himself for it. That if The Upside Down was really back, he would’ve felt terrified, sure, but also…

Relieved.

Because the alternative is that the problem is him.

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