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The last part of TNR was absolutely perfect! I loved it so much and even tho I'm sad that the series is over, this chapter made me so happy and I overall loved it all!
Aw thank you so much 🥺🥺
I loved writing this series so much. Sad that it’s come to an end, but I’m planning on putting out more Thomas content in the future as well as other series, so stay tuned !!
Hey everyone !
I wanna draw some 3 houses ships. Do you have suggestions ? (Including non canon ships)
I just need some inspiration to draw little things now that I’m back to work (and that my 3h portraits serie is almost done)...
makeshift murderers
pairing : ponyboy curtis x female!reader
warnings : canon typical violence
summary :
“could you love me like this?”
notes :
a continuation to this fic. i’ve never really done a series before, but i might turn this into one.
the last fic was more angsty, so here is a true bittersweet fic for the anon who asked. (love you)
this exists because rain keeps sending me songs that slap to inspire me, love you for miles.
as always likes/comments/reblogs/asks let me know you liked my work
enjoy.
_____________________
you’re sitting on the curb, your body shaking and your head in bloodied hands, thinking about socs and scars that don’t heal.
the truck that approaches with blinding headlights that cut through the darkness is loud, but the ringing in your ears and roaring pain in your arm is louder.
you’ll forever fall asleep with the feeling of being held down onto the ground, with the sound of your screaming, raw and agonizing, a deer butchered alive.
met only with a soc screaming back, “nobody wants to save you, greaser!”
and he was right. nobody came to save you.
at least until his headlights shined, but it was already done. you were meek, and disconnected and a little bit less human.
when ponyboy gets out of his truck, he is unfazed. he is tortured inside, but this ending was all too familiar.
he is barefoot as he slams the car door behind him, walking on the rough gravel, he must’ve heard you scream.
if it happens enough you become a little less human, you recognize each other’s screams.
he rushes to you, wordlessly placing an arm under your knees where you hold them to your chest, the other supporting your back as he carries you to the car.
the drive is wordless, agony will do that sometimes.
you cut through it, when you reach his home, and ask him, “show me yours.”
he doesn’t answer after a few beats, and you think maybe he never will until he answers,
“No.”
he leaves the car, closing the door carefully behind him and rounding the car to help you out.
when he grabs both of your dainty hands to help you off onto the ground, your forearm is exposed to reveal the message scribbled in by soc switchblades.
your left arm read “whore,” after the socs favorite nickname for you. the other was “accomplice,” which was new. both had used your blood as ink, your carved in skin was the paper.
with his arm outstretched like this, you read the one he only had on his right arm, “murderer.”
you walk silently into the house where his brothers might be asleep, slipping into his room.
he grabs a shirt off its hanger in the closet and hands it to you. even now, he knows you like his soothing scent.
he doesn’t say anything. he almost never does, looking out of the window at nothing but the darkness and the lonesome moon.
finally he inhales sharply before turning to you and speaking,
“could you love me like this?” he asks, his voice low and his eyes on fire in the way that set your veins alight.
he doesn’t walk towards you, he prowls, and you forget his baby face, seventeen years and still remaining. he moves until it’s just you against him, against the wall, so close you can feel his chest as it rises and falls in quick breath.
he runs his hands along your arms, up to your shoulders, his touch soft as he stops with his hands resting on your neck.
you run your hand up the length of his arm to cup his, your other hand moving to cup his cheek.
your words are muffled when you say,
“i need you. i love you,” you trace his neck, over the soft center with your lips.
“you could make hell feel like home,” you kiss beneath his jaw.
“you could be a monster. be my monster,” you tease his lips.
“i love you, ponyboy curtis,” he watches you, your lips, as you close the distance, head tilting to feel all of him, lips intertwined with yours, soft and sweet at first, then growing heated and messy.
“you’re mine. you’re poetry,” he answers, almost mumbling as he kisses your neck, drags his lips, and kisses again.
he moved to kiss your forearm, the newly scarred skin where they’d written you a label, the cuss spelled out in your blood.
he kisses them until they’re better, or at least feel that way, his hands soft against your fragile, breakable skin.
his hand moves to cup your cheek, and you tilt your head to place your lips against the gore on his own arm.
he winces like maybe it hurts, and then his eyes close in content.
you’ve both learned the lesson that all greasers someday do, feeling pain was better than feeling nothing.
you’re not a pretty crier, but today only a tear slips through, rebelliously traveling the length of your check before ponyboy’s thumb brushes it away.
you look at him with renewed fury, pony’s favorite look on your skin, as your eyes burn with rage at those who’d hurt you.
you and ponyboy will show them hell when it wears the skin of a human.
________ @staygoldponebone @ponyboyvhs
is it easier to suck dick or eat pussy
ive only sucked dikkkkkkkk
dysphoria kicking my ass so send nice asks please talk abt ur day or ur crushes or anything pls
Interesting ......😏
I just saw a new request for marauders era Lucius ... very interested and pretty sure I'll write it once my finals are over !!!
Send me requests anytime !! Accepting normal and nsfw hc and ( maybe ) imagine requests !! But SHIPS are CLOSED , pls don't send them in anymore 😣
- Kace
((OOC: I CANT DANCE. that is what we have just learned from this post))
