Emilia Harcourt x f!Reader, Mentioned Adrian Chase x f!Reader
Word Count: ~2,233
Summary: You and Emilia have always had a unique friendship. You fall back into the same relationship you’ve always had, easily. I’m bad at summaries. Read The Warnings Please.
Warnings: It’s possibly bad idk, smut, pwp, strap-on sex, strapwarming, burning (with cigarettes & a lighter), some hair pulling, cigarette smoking, mentioned fingering, mentioned slapping but it doesn’t happen, waxing poetic a bit, NOT proofread we die like henry cavill superman, i switch tenses a lot bc i just don't care, i feel like i have to be forgetting something but this is all I can think of, if I missed something please lmk
Story Notes: Reader has an advanced healing factor. Uses the code name “Ax”, which doesnt come up in this one. Reader is very silly & playful but also a violent masochist. Reader has a house in Evergreen. Reader has hair that’s long enough to get some kind of grip on. Harcourt is an ex smoker. This takes place a week or two after the first part. Please Read The Warnings
A/N: Installment 13 of not-Kinktober. No Adrian in this one. I will continue to switch between awkward purple prose & weird introspection & just gross sex stuff. I don’t know what to say about this one it’s just entirely self indulgent lmao. Thanks for reading! As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!! <3
General Taglist (lmk if you’d like to be added or removed! <3): @aphroditeascension @kittychic
Series Taglist(sorry if I forgot anyone, lmk if you’d like to be added or removed! <3): @solo-pitstop-vibes @evanpeters42069 @sumoattack-gooddog
Emilia Harcourt’s hands were a little rough. That was one of the things you’d always liked about her, that she was rougher than you might expect. They were still soft, but hard won callouses caught on your skin as she ran your hands over your body. It was perfect, electrifying, every time.
Emilia always scratched during sex, too. Hard. Not always enough to draw blood, not unless she was trying, but she always marred your back and hips and everywhere with pink and red claw marks, dug her nails in so deep you’d swear she was trying to pierce a hole through you. You weren’t certain whether it was something she did for you or with everybody, but you were pretty sure it was just a raw, compulsive move. She probably did do it with everyone. But until you bled? That you were pretty sure was just for you, at least for the most part, and the thought was flattering beyond measure.
You know that you’ll be struggling to keep yourself awake for as long as you can after this, fighting the shadowy hands that try to pull you under so you can preserve the marks as long as they’ll last.
“I have a surprise,” She tells you.
You do your best to turn and look at her, propping yourself on your elbow as you ask, “Besides the obvious one?”
She snorts, thrusts into you a little harder. She’s been fucking you lazily for at least twenty minutes, dragging in and out of you so slowly that she might as well just stay still, and most of the time she did just that. You’re on all fours, facing the TV at the foot of your bed, and she’s kneeling behind you. There’s not much talking, both because an ostensibly scary movie is playing (which is ostensibly the reason that she’s here), and because there’s really no need to fill the quiet between you.
That’s something you know Emilia has always liked about you, that you don’t mind just existing in silence with her.
You never mind existing in silence with her, but you have to admit it’s especially enjoyable now that she had the forethought to bring a strap-on.
Out of the pocket of her jacket, which she put back on after she got naked for reasons you don’t bother to question, she produces a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
You’re hit with a moment of deja vu so strong it takes your breath away. Part of you feels a little foolish for ever wondering if you two would fall back into the same relationship you’d had before.
Neither of you were easy people, but your relationship was exactly that. Easy. Natural.
Friends since forever. Friends since she was a girl that was probably too young to be shooting people, and you were a girl that was probably too young to be getting shot. Learning how to fight together. Badgering each other about quitting bad habits even while you engaged in the same ones. Intimacy had always come naturally between you two, more than it did with anyone else. You learned how to inflict pain using each other’s bodies as targets. It only seemed natural that you discovered how to share pleasure the same way.
Of course there was nothing that could change that. Of course it would be the same when you were together again. No matter the distance, no matter the time, nothing could separate the way your souls clung to each other, the two of you the same sides of different coins. Not exactly identical, but close enough in all the ways that really mattered.
You don’t say any of that. She doesn’t want to hear you be sappy, and you don’t want to risk scaring her off at all. The closeness doesn’t need commentary.
“You still smoke?” You can’t help but ask instead, a little admonishing.
She rolled her eyes even as she shook her head, “Purely a nostalgia purchase. Why? Not interested?”
You managed to twist around enough to pull one out from the pack before she even finished, quick to assure, “No, I’m not saying that. Just not the best habit to keep. But maybe every once in a while…”
She half laughed, half scoffed, then plucked the cigarette from your lips and settled it between her own as she lit it. Once it was lit she blew a heavy cloud of smoke in your face and handed it back to you, lighting one of her own. More smoke in your face. You coughed, fake and dramatic, but didn’t turn away until she gave you a half hearted shove.
You take a long drag, listening to her do the same behind you. You can picture the way Emilia’s eyes flutter closed in relief at the nicotine flooding through her, and you squirm at the thought. The hand still on your hip scratches gently once and then harder, enough to make you hiss. Your eyes drag up to the screen in front of you, see what’s happening in the movie. Someone’s getting stabbed in the chest. You can’t help but feel a little jealous.
“It really is nice to have you back,” She murmurs, so quiet that you’re not certain it was meant for your ears.
You don’t need to say it back to her. She knows it already, and you’ve said it enough times. Instead, you tease, “Haven’t gotten any action in a while, huh?”
You feel the press of the cigarette on your back a few seconds before you feel the burn, more surprising than painful, but still pretty painful. You jerk forward, start to squirm, and Emilia’s other hand leaves your hip to shove your face down into your pillow. Your arms curl forward to keep the cigarette in your own hand in the air and not crushed between you and the mattress. She grabs it from between your fingers, replaces it with the one she’s just stubbed out.
“Bitch,” You mutter, muffled by your pillow, mostly to see what she’ll do.
This time she presses the cigarette to your ass, immediately followed with one of her nails digging into the spot. You can’t help but grind back against her, and she laughs, taunting, “I’m the one not getting any action?”
You moaned as you listened to her relight it, take another drag, and immediately stub it back out on the small of your back. When you start to talk again your words are still muffled, and the hand still tangled in your hair pulls hard, forcing you onto your hands again as you tell her, “Vigilante said he and Peacemaker would totally have a threesome with me if I wanted.”
Emilia snorts, pushes you down again as she asks, “You planning to take them up on that?”
“Not planning on it,” You’re pulled up again, scalp stinging, “He did say we could invite you if that would make me more comfortable. But then he got all…agitated about how that’s a foursome and not a threesome, and they’re really good at threesomes but they’ve never tried a foursome. And then he got agitated again when I told him I didn’t want to fuck Peacemaker, anyway. Kept telling me I was missing out.”
“Jesus Christ,” She huffs, finally thrusting a little faster, “Y’know, I’m pretty sure he went and jerked off in his car the day he met you.”
You nod, as best as you can with her nails digging into your scalp, holding back a moan at the way her hips roll against your ass, “After we sparred? Can’t fucking blame him, it was hot. I rubbed one out in the bathroom, too.”
“Freak,” She murmurs, voice more affectionate than you’ve heard it all night.
“Yeah, well, if I’m a freak, what are you? You’re the one who took me to a bar fight that night and then fucked me with your-“
Your face is shoved into your pillow again before you can finish, her voice cold in a way that you know is an act, “I remember. Do you ever shut up?”
Your “No,” is lost between the fabric of your bed and the whine that you let out at a particularly hard thrust. She’s slowing again, and you know that she’s doing it on purpose, teasing you.
You hear the click of the lighter, but you’re still surprised when you start to feel heat on your back. You’re shuddering as she draws it along your skin, down the arch of your spine, never lingering long enough or quite close enough to burn you too badly, but enough that you can feel the white hot tongues of the flame just starting to blister your skin before she moves them to the next spot. Your body curls into itself, clenches tighter around the cock that’s still easing in and out of you, and all you can do is mutter “…thank you, thank you, thank you…” over and over and over again, your voice so wrecked and muffled that you don’t know if she can hear it. You don’t know that she needs to. You can imagine that she feels it anyway, that she knows without question you are always praying to the shrine of her. You’re sure that even when you’re separated, she can feel the flame inside you that is always burning for her.
You want to beg for more, but you don’t. It’s a gift, in and of itself, something she’s doing just for you. You take what she gives you, and think of how much it means she loves you. How much you love her too.
The lighter disappears.
“Flip over,” She orders.
You do, giving a little mock salute that has her rolling her eyes at you. The cigarette you were holding must have slipped from your grip at some point in all the push and pull because you’re not sure where it is now. You know you’ll probably regret it when your sheets smell like an ashtray later, but you can’t bring yourself to bother looking for it. Later. After you let Emilia do whatever she wants to you. After the inevitable flip that’ll come, when you’ll slap her around and finger her until her hard edges fade away and cover her in as many hickeys as she’ll let you get away with. Before you let yourself sleep, let your body heal the burns and scratches that are littered over it and lose those precious marks, you’ll take the time to look for the lost cancer stick. Maybe even wash the sheets. Anything to keep you moving, keep you marked. But for now, you’ll do anything to keep yourself at her mercy.
“Can’t see the movie now,” You complain, breathless, as she slaps the shaft of her strap against your aching pussy.
“What, you want me to stop?” Emilia asks, laughing when your hands scramble to grab onto her, keep her from pulling away from you. Her hand hovers near your cheek, like she’s not sure if she’s going to caress it or slap it. She does neither, pulls it away to guide the cock inside you once again instead, “Calm down. You’re not missing much, the blood looks fake as shit.”
Her hands busy themselves with relighting her cigarette. This time when she blows smoke in your face you force your eyes to stay open, so you can watch her through the acrid grey haze.
Emilia Harcourt is always beautiful. That’s never a question. When she’s looking at you through lust heavy eyes, wreathed in smoke that softens her hard edges, she’s breathtaking.
Your lips purse, and she rolls her eyes again when she presses a kiss to them. A moment later she replaces her mouth with the cigarette, lets you take a long drag as she fucks you lazily. The smoke diffuses the dim light from the TV, gives her a halo that’s in direct opposition to the devilish smirk on her face.
“You’re better than a movie,” You tell her, because you can’t think of anything else to say.
“I know,” She says it contemplatively, takes another slow drag.
And then, unhurried but without warning, she presses the burning end of the cigarette to your clit.
You scream, higher pitched than you’d probably admit to, pleasure and pain swirling through your body like you’re going to dissolve into the smoke that fills the room. You haven’t come this hard in…you’re not sure how long. Probably since before you left on your last job. Certainly it was another time with her. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is right now.
Her eyes are closed, like she can’t watch your writhing, but there’s still a smile on her face.
“I really am lucky to have you,” You gasp out, toes still curling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, pain still sizzling through your body.
She blinks at you, slow. Meaningful. You know she wants to deflect, but she doesn’t. You know she also wants to say it back, but she doesn’t. She knows she doesn’t have to do either, with you. Instead, she hooks her arms under your legs, the speed of her thrusting picking up, burying her nails into your thighs so hard that you almost come again. Then she laughs, back to the harsh and teasing in a moment as she tells you, “Yeah. You are.”
Adrian Chase x f!Reader, Emilia Harcourt x f!Reader
Harcourt brings in her childhood best friend, a metahuman with an advanced healing factor, to help the 11th Street Kids. Their resident psychopath develops a totally healthy interest in your masochistic tendencies.
dead dove series, please read the warnings for each part carefully before reading
Fics are linked not in the order they’re published but in the order they’d take place chronologically
Part 1 ~2900 words (no smut)
Cigarettes ~2200 words (Emilia Harcourt x f!Reader)
One time when healingfactor!reader was young&dumb she spent like $250 on a tattoo bc she wanted one but when her body healed the wound it just forced all the pigment out
and then she did it like 3 more times bc she was convinced she could figure out a way to heal it Without actually losing the ink (she couldn’t)
