#AND LET IT BE KNOWN THIS IS WHAT I KNOW THE MOST ABOUT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 2 days ago

Note

I have I request/fic idea that’s kind of a flip on the usual. Reader & Elijah are dating and he can tell that’s she’s been holding something back when they have sex and is determined to get her to let go so he really pulls out all the stops. Reader is a biter, especially in situations she needs to be quiet (& maybe even a bit of a scratcher ie kinda claws at his back) but a previous boyfriend told it was weird so she’s super self conscious about it and is always a little distracted during sex fighting the instinct to bite him. Elijah succeeds and she latches onto that area between the neck & shoulder and turns out, not only is Elijah totally fine with it, he really REALLY likes it.

Bites

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You were afraid to bite him. Until he told you to do it again.

♡♡ hiii anon I love your mind && Happy day one of mikaelson week!! I've missed ya'll ~xo ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, praise kink, riding, biting kink (the blood-free kind ... although Elijah absolutely wouldn’t mind...), overwhelmed reader, feral elijah && warm fire...

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering light across all of the ancient books lining the walls. Everything felt still and quiet, that kind of soft silence that only came when you were wrapped in warmth and safety. It was your favorite kind of evening, curled under a soft blanket on the sofa with your favorite person tucked close.

You still weren’t sure how you managed to pull a man like Elijah. You met a while ago, when he walked up to you like he already knew what you would say. All dark eyes and smooth charm, tailored clothes and quiet confidence. He had disarmed you instantly. From the first moment, you sensed something different about him. Though you didn’t know then just how true that would turn out to be.

And now, months later, here you were. Nestled against one of the oldest living creatures on earth, with his arm around your waist like it belonged there. He could have had anyone. And yet, he chose you.

You certainly weren’t going to argue.

A soft sigh slipped from your lips as you pressed in closer, wrapping the blanket tighter around both of you. You looked up at him, studying the familiar lines of his face in the firelight. His hair fell softly across his brow, his dark eyes tracking the lines of his book. But the way his hand moved, slow and precise, long fingers flexing just enough to remind you how they felt against your skin. That was what made your heart flutter.

Your gaze moved up to the column of his throat, the curve where neck meets shoulder. A place you kissed before many times, gently, reverently. But tonight, you didn’t want to kiss it. You wanted to bite it.

The thought hit fast and hot. You swallowed hard, shifting under the blanket as heat pooled between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you had felt it. That deep, aching urge always crept in during quiet moments like this. When you felt content and safe around him, overwhelmed by love and want and intense feeling.

But just as quickly, shame curled through you like smoke. You shouldn’t want that. Not like this. It was too much. You were too much.

The last time you followed that instinct, let it slip past your lips in the heat of the moment, your ex hadn’t understood. He laughed. Pulled back. Shut down. Called you intense. In that tone people use when they mean something else. When they mean weird. When they mean wrong.

You pretended it didn’t hurt, but it stuck. It lived in you. Ever since, you kept that part of yourself locked away. Bit your own lip instead. Dug your nails into the sheets instead of skin. Avoided the feelings that threatened to swallow you whole.

And now here you were, held in the arms of the most perfect man you had ever known. Still too scared to show him the whole of what you wanted.

Elijah turned another page, but he hadn’t read a single word in the last five minutes. He could feel your body pressed against his side, warm and restless, your breaths coming shallower now. And he could practically hear the thoughts racing behind your silence.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way your gaze lingered on him a little too long, the way your lips parted like you might say something, then thought better of it. Your breath caught.. just barely. But he noticed. He always did.

There was a flush rising beneath your skin, a certain tension in your frame that made his chest warm. You were trying so hard not to let it show. He could feel it in the way you tucked yourself a little closer, like you needed him to notice without asking. He found it very sweet.

He didn’t know what you were holding back, not exactly. But he could feel it, some small ache just beneath the surface. Something you thought you needed to hide.

He could wait. He would wait. But it was hard not to smile when you got like this. All quiet and shy…and clearly about two seconds from climbing into his lap.

His book was forgotten. His eyes were on you now, wearing that unreadable expression he saved for when he was studying something closely. Not judging. Just observing.

"W-what?" you asked, trying not to squirm. "You’re very distracting, you know that?"

Elijah gave you a small, amused smile. "I haven’t done anything."

"Exactly," you said, returning the smile. "You sit there looking like that and expect me to concentrate on anything else?"

He hummed, low and content, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. "I was under the impression we were just reading."

"I was trying," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed your skin. "Then your hand turned a page and my brain completely stopped working."

"That sounds serious," he said, voice dropping just a little, all low and velvet-soft as his fingers slipped beneath the blanket. "Should I be concerned?"

You giggled breathlessly just before he caught your mouth in a soft kiss. His hand trailed up your thigh, pausing just beneath the hem of your dress. Then, with careful ease, he dipped under the fabric. Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t pull away.

His palm slid higher, warm and steady against bare skin. He smiled into the kiss, then shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. The blanket slid down, pooling around your waist as your knees braced on either side of his hips. He only broke the kiss long enough to lift your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

He hadn’t expected his evening to go like this. Elijah had planned to read, maybe kiss you once or twice and fall asleep with you curled against his chest. But now you were in his lap, bare and radiant, and all he could do was stare. The way your skin flushed under his palms, the way your fingers trembled as they touched him. It always undid something in him.

Your hands moved to the front of his shirt, fumbling slightly with the buttons. He didn’t rush you. He liked watching you like this. A little nervous, focused, so clearly wanting him. You got halfway down before he leaned in and kissed your jaw, a whisper-soft encouragement. You pushed the fabric back off his shoulders and down his arms, quickly tossing it aside.

His hand slid down your back, firm and possessive, pulling you tight against him. He was already hard, and the pressure of it beneath you made your breath hitch. He guided your hips with slow, deliberate movements, coaxing you to grind against him. The friction stole your focus, made your fingers tremble against his skin as the heat between you deepened, hungry and sweet and impossible to ignore.

You let your hands roam across his chest, drinking him in. His skin was warm under your palms, his muscles carved and defined. Your fingertips traced the ridge of his collarbone, slid up the curve of his neck, tangled in his hair. He felt like something meant to be worshipped.

You reached between you, breath shaky, and undid the fastenings of his pants. He let you, his eyes never leaving your face. You pushed the fabric down just enough to free him, and the second your hand wrapped around him, he groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the feel of him in your hand. The way he exhaled like you were undoing him. The way his fingers dug into your thighs, the ways his pupils dilated, making them somehow even darker.

The firelight flickered across your back, casting the two of you in molten gold. He leaned in, breath warm against your throat, and you tipped your head back as he kissed along your neck, his mouth open, tongue teasing. His hand moved between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and pushing the fabric aside.

His fingers teased you gently, not enough to satisfy, just enough to make your hips shift, seeking more.

"Go slow for me. Let it ache a while," he murmured. "I'll take care of you."

Your body trembled with anticipation, with need, and you bit your lip, stifling a whimper. He kept his touches light, too light, just barely brushing the surface, then a little deeper, circling and coaxing until your legs began to shake.

You tried to stay in control. Tried to hold back the part of you that wanted to claw, to bite, to take. The part that always felt too hungry.

But then he pulled away, slow and deliberate, and shifted beneath you. He pressed the head of his cock right where you wanted him most and held there, unmoving, letting the need twist hot and sharp inside you.

You held your breath as he pressed against you, and then, slowly, you began to sink down. You let out a quiet moan, savoring the stretch and the way his hands tightened around you, steadying you.

You started to move, slow and careful. Lifting just enough to feel the pull before sinking down again. Every motion was thick with wet heat, achingly slow. Sweet friction that built fire with every pass.

Your muscles burned with the effort of staying in control, and your heart pounded like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. Your nails digging into the sofa.

His hands slid along your spine, grounding you as he let you set the pace. But it was not enough to hold back the rush building in your blood.

It was too much. The pleasure. The pressure. The unbearable fullness of him, deep and steady, everywhere.

And still, you tried to hold it together.

Still, you held back.

He felt it in the hitch of your breath, in the tremble that started in your thighs and worked its way through you like a current. Your heart was a wild, beautiful thing beneath your skin. Fluttering against your ribs, echoing in his ears like a siren’s call. And your scent… god, the warmth of it, the way clouded all of his senses as you eased down onto him. It nearly undid him.

You were trying so hard to stay composed. He could see it in the tension at your jaw, the way your fingers dug into the leather behind you instead of into him. It made something sorrowful ache in his chest. You were holding back. Still afraid. Still unsure if it was safe to fall apart with him.

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to be. That he could take it. That he wanted it. Wanted you to be hungry, wild and unrestrained. But he didn’t speak. Not yet. He didn’t dare interrupt the soft, sacred rhythm you set.

One of his hands slid across your shoulder, fingers trailing down your arm until he found your wrist. He brought it forward, pressed your palm to his chest, his skin hot beneath your touch.

“Touch me,” he said softly, steady as a heartbeat. “You don’t need to hold back.”

Your pulse jumped. The warmth of his skin, the steady thump under your palm, was too much. Too intimate. Too good. Your other hand followed, splayed flat over his heart. His hands returned to your waist.

You moved again, hips rolling deep and slow. You arched into him, nails dragging red down his chest. The pleasure built and built. And still, it wasn’t enough.

Your body trembled, caught between the instinct to take and the fear of being too much. You kissed along his jaw... that beautiful jaw. Just a little bit of stubble, sharp enough to cut. You kissed along it, slowly, breathing him in, afraid and desperate in equal parts to sink your teeth in.

Your mouth lingered there. Open. Wanting. But not daring.

His fingers flexed at your hips.

"Take it," he murmured, voice wrecked. "Whatever you want. Take it."

And finally you gave in.

You sank your teeth into the curve where neck met shoulder. Not enough to break skin, not on someone like him, but enough to hurt. Enough to shake him.

Elijah’s groan was guttural, the sound of a man utterly undone. His head fell back, and hips jerked beneath you, a sudden, uncontrolled thrust, and your body clamped down around him so tight it made your breath catch.

“Fuck.”

He swore under his breath, more primal than polished now and his hands squeezed your ass, guiding your hips.

“Again,” he hissed. “Harder.”

Your chest clenched. No one had ever enjoyed your intense side. No one had ever asked for more. The shame that always curled beneath your ribs was gone, burned out by the raw need in his voice. He wasn’t tolerating it. He was loving it.

And you were helpless to resist.

You bit him again, harder, and the strangled sound that escaped him sent a thrill down your spine. Your hands were shaking, fingers pressed tight against his chest, and your heart was pounding, but everything else felt perfectly, blissfully clear.

"Yes," he breathed, and his hand slipped between you, his fingers stroking over the spot where you were joined, and then up, rubbing in insistent circles over your clit, "Yes, love, yes..."

You moaned against his neck, the sound muffled. It was too much. The feel of him moving beneath you, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his skin, the press of his fingers, his hand against your back. The sounds he made. That beautiful, wrecked voice saying yes, over and over again.

Your mouth was everywhere, rabidly moving along the line of his jaw, the sharp ridge of his throat, the flushed skin you already marked once. You bit down over and over, teeth dragging just enough to make him groan, filthy and low. You felt drunk on it, dizzy, like the whole world was spinning around you and he was the only thing that could keep you upright.

Your hips bucked hard, your rhythm lost, and he began to bounce you, lifting your hips and bringing them back down with a punishing force. Every thrust drove a ragged sound from the both of you.

“Elijah,” you gasped, already breathless, fingers curling into his shoulders.

“Again,” he growled, voice sharp now. “Fucking bite me.”

The command in his voice hit like a punch to the gut. A moan tore from your throat as you did, harder this time, the taste of his skin flooding your tongue. His pace increased, his whole body shuddered, and his cock twitched deep inside you as he cursed under his breath. He started moving you even faster, every thrust hit something perfect, something devastating, and your moans turned into broken little sobs.

Your hands scrambled for his skin, digging into his chest, his shoulders, holding on as you bounced in his lap, thighs burning, body slick with sweat and slick and spit.

“Look at you,” he gasped, voice gone completely hoarse, his dark eyes wide and wrecked. “So fucking sweet like this. Look at how you ride me…wild fucking thing-”

You didn’t even recognize the sound you made. You were too far gone.

It wasn’t even sex anymore. It was heat and hunger and something feral. You bit him again, just under his jaw this time, and he groaned, his hips losing their rhythm, and you didn't care. You didn’t care how loud you were, how your teeth tore at his skin, the way your nails left angry red marks down his chest.

The ache in you was so deep. It had been there for months, burning like an ember in your core. And now, finally, the fire was burning through you, scorching everything else away. There was nothing but this moment.

You came with a cry, body clenching down around him in waves, your whole body shaking, lips still pressed to his skin. You couldn't stop. You didn’t want to. You kept licking, kissing, moaning into his neck as the pleasure overtook you completely.

He followed you, voice wrecked and raw, hands still guiding you through it as he spilled inside you with a shudder that wracked his whole frame.

Slowly, the world came back. The crackle of the fire, the cool leather of the couch, the heat of his body, and the gentle press of his lips against your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

Your limbs felt like lead, and all the air left your lungs in a shaky exhale.

"Holy shit," you managed, still gasping for breath.

"That is," he murmured, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "One way to put it."

You laughed, still dizzy, and collapsed against his chest. He pulled the blanket back up around the both of you, his hands smoothing along your spine, soothing you as your breath came in pants.

The fire had burned low. Most of the room had fallen into shadow, and the chill of the air was starting to creep back in. Without a word, Elijah shifted, carefully disentangling himself from the mess of limbs and blankets.

“No,” you mumbled, arms wrapping tighter around his middle. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He chuckled softly. “Nowhere far, sweetheart.”

You let him go reluctantly, flopping onto your side as he stood. And then … well. You definitely didn’t regret letting him go.

The firelight kissed every plane of his body in soft orange-gold. You watched as he moved to the fireplace, unhurried and utterly unbothered to be naked, every muscle flexing as he bent to adjust the wood in the hearth. Strong shoulders, defined arms and the curve of his back… he looked like he should be carved into stone. He didn’t even have to look at you to know what you were thinking.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking back.

“You’re naked,” you shot back, pulling the blanket up to your chin, flushed and smiling.

He gave the fire one last nudge and turned, smiling in that infuriatingly composed way. “So I am.”

He crossed the room with slow, easy steps, the light catching the curves and ridges of his torso. Your gaze drifted lower, and he laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “You alright?”

You nodded, blushing.

He climbed back onto the couch, leaning in to kiss you, long and languid. When he pulled back, you were grinning, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Was that alright?” you asked, voice small. “I know I can get… in my head. And the biting thing, it’s…”

He shook his head and kissed you again, gentle and certain, as if to hush every doubt before it could reach your lips.

“My love,” he said, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “You are speaking to a vampire. You think I’d be scandalized by a few enthusiastic nibbles?”

You giggled, a little fluttery in your chest. He pulled the blanket closer, settling in beside you. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then the tip of your nose, then down to your jaw. He continued like that, peppering soft kisses all along the line of your jaw until he reached your ear. “I meant what I said. I want all of you. Even the parts you think are too much. Especially those.”

Your heart clenched.

You peeked up at him again, shy. “Even if I want to bite you like… all the time?”

He grinned. “Especially that.”

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikealson smut

295 notes · View notes

goodgirlwhoshopeful · 16 hours ago

Text

As much as everyone is entitled to an opinion, and no one, not even Karedevil shippers will deny Matt did not behave well in S2, the reality is that Karen is even seen as the Love of Matt’s life by Marvel themselves - it’s literally written on their website in the character profiles. She is the love interest considered to be most integral to him in the source material.

Even Charlie has repeatedly said that Matt’s character has a relationship with Karen that goes on for decades and is unlike any other relationship he has (because yes, he is a flirt to say the least). Karen is the only person - the only person - Matt willingly tells about Daredevil rather than them finding out accidentally or out of necessity. Yes, it’s after huge mistakes he’s made and no one is arguing he didn’t, but I really don’t think it should be discounted that he chooses to tell her, chooses to risk completely losing her for good if she’d run for the hills, because he does respects her that much and he knows he fucked up. I mean, he didn’t even risk being that honest with Foggy. That’s so clearly testament to how he hold Karen in unique esteem.

I also think it’s testement to the fact he knew he might lose her, but he also deep down hoped he knew her well enough to assume she would be too curious not to eventually come back to him. And let’s be honest, that’s exactly what she did. Karen is drawn to Matt’s danger long before she knows it’s him - she’s clearly turned on by Daredevil’s violence long before she knows he and the handsome, kind, withdrawn lawyer she works with are the same person… So, let’s not kid ourselves that she’s entirely innocent in this, either. She comes back to him because, deep down, in the words of Frank Castle himself, she loves him knows she always would. Because he’s a good person, forced into awful situations to try and save her over and over again and it makes him feel immensely overwhelmed and sometimes make the wrong choices in trying to save everyone - when really, you can’t always save everyone.

Elektra was a toxic relationship and Matt knew it - she never accepted the softer side of him, or respected it. In fact, she actually tries to quash it. Heather doesn’t even remotely know the real him, and she’s antagonistic about vigilantes and doesn’t agree with why he does what he does. She’s clearly actively going to turn on him in DDBA S2. Karen is the only person who has known and loved both sides of him, despite all his fuck ups… which, to be honest, is unconditional love, is it not?

No one is saying Matt is perfect - and neither is Karen - but imperfect people still deserve happiness. To me, it seems clear that Disney actively choosing to have Matt call for Karen when he awakes from almost dying in DDBA is a sledgehammer of foreshadowing that they fully intend to follow Canon in DDBA as much as DD did, because Karen & Matt are openly Canon, even according to Charlie, never mind Marvel themselves…

I get that that might not be some people’s preference, but it literally falls in line with the source material & the narrative plotting, so I don’t see how people can be surprised?

I’d be so disappointed if Karen ended up with Matt after everything. When they were together, he emotionally cheated on her with Elektra. He constantly lied to her. Now, Matt is getting jealous and flirting with Karen while he’s still with Heather. I love Matt but he’s not a good boyfriend. Karen deserves better. If we don’t get Kastle, just let her thrive on her own.

#this is not meant as shade at all #just happened across this post #but I think people forget that fictional characters are meant to be flawed and that doesn’t mean they deserve misery #Elektra made him miserable and it’s so clear Karen is his safe place - he’s just an idiot when he’s trying to protect people sometimes #daredevil born again #Karedevil #OTP: better now with you #matt murdock x karen page

951 notes · View notes

runaarinn · 2 days ago

Text

✦ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐯𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡

› 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

› 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐲: everything is all good here, feel free to indulge as much as you’d like!

› 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whether or not some of the haikyuu boys would soft launch or hard launch you

› 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: I thought that this would be really cute, I think I wanna make a couple more parts of this, but we'll see! I do hope you guys enjoy <33!

ᥫ᭡ 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 — I feel like bro doesn’t even use social media, like he has a verified profile and everything, but he doesn’t post unless it’s like volleyball-related. however, I think he’d soft-launch the hell out of you. like when he asks you to be his girlfriend and stuff, like people wouldn’t know (I feel like he’s like a really private person), but as a few years pass and he proposes to you he’d post like a singular photo of you with your hand in the camera, GIANT rock on your ring finger with a caption like “she said yes 🙂”.

when I tell you, EVERYONE is shocked and surprised. like everyone is, including his own teammates. like they would be like “I know that you’re in love with y/n and you guys have been together for like years, but i didn’t know that you were considering marrying her, let alone proposing to her.” and then ushijima would djust be like, “marrying her was always going to be the end goal”, and he would definitely have liek the softest smile on his lips, like its so cute.

he literally only smiles when he talks about you. his teammates and friends start gushing. and I feel like he would totally cry watching you walk down the aisle, too.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 — I feel like he would attempt to soft launch you, but he just has such a big, fat mouth that he quite literally can’t keep it under wraps. like when the two of you would start dating, he was doing pretty well at keeping it on the low, not by his choice, though. you thought it would be better to slowly make it known that the two of you are a couple, since he does have such an insane fan club of girls, but he understood your reasoning and respected it.

I think that oikawa is an aesthetic king on the low. so if you guys were to go out on a date at like this super really nice restaurant, he would post a picture [in low exposure lighting, of course] highlighting the two glasses and two plates. he’d probably also caption it ‘on a date, kind of nervous’; and you would just barely be in the frame. on top of that, let’s say that you guys went on a date to like a carnival too, and you guys took two different sets of pictures, he would post the set where your hair is covering your face the most, or where you can’t actually see you that much in general. that way, he can obviously still respect your boundaries of not being ready to let everyone know, but still allowing people to know that the two of you are dating.

one day, you guys were on a date, and he made this little collage of the two of you just to save to his phone, but he accidentally posted it and didn’t realize till a few hours later when people were blowing up your phone and his congratulating the two of you. everyone was literally super sweet, and saying that the two of you are freaking adorable. you felt a little silly about it all, but oikawa peppered you with kisses and supplied you with D1-level reassurance. mwah.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐢 — what’s a hard launch? the hell is a soft launch? tsukishima, more than likely, has heard of these terms before, but he just simply doesn’t care about them; he actually probably thinks that they’re kind of stupid. if you want to show off your partner, then go ahead; if not, that’s fine too. there’s no need to go through a “hard” or” soft” launch. he thinks that the term and label as a whole is really, really stupid.

I don’t think that he’s necessarily the type of person to like try and “hide” or “not” show you off. like I feel like he’s the type of person to have like mad followers on instagram, and he’ll have like a few instagram highlights; like a highlight of just himself, some stuff from volleyball and like a music highlight. and then he’ll randomly post to his stories like pictures of the two of you, and some candid shots of you! eventually he’ll also make a highlight of just you and the name would probably be something simple like ‘🤍’

everyone responds to his story, but literally, he doesn’t pay anybody any mind. to be honest, I literally don’t think he responds to any of his instagram dm’s like at all. it’s really bad. he has stuff sitting in there from his classmates from like years, ago. a little side track, but I feel like this man is also super bad at texting people back. like he would acknowledge the message, but he’ll leave people on ‘read’, or delivered.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — hard launch. like absolutely, no doubt in my mind he is a hard launcher. mind you — he’d probably hard-launched both of you before the two of you even started dating. I feel like he is such a picture hoarder, like he is at least over 25k pictures in his phone (calling myself out with this one). and a vast majority of those pictures are of you, him, and the team, and random pictures he keeps forgetting to delete.

when you first joined the fukordani boys volleyball club as one of their managers, you and bokuto hit it off well. you seemed like a really sweet person, you’re super smart, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and he wanted to be your friend really bad! him and akaashi started to invite you to grab something to eat after late-night practices, and even things as simple as sitting outside during the lunch period together. eventually, you’ve naturally grown onto the team, and started to hang out with everyone as a whole as well.

as time went on, you and bokuto began to spend more one-on-one time with one another — whether it be him walking you home, or you guys hanging out at a cute little cafe that is somewhere in the area. no matter what you guys are doing, bokuto will always take a snapshot or some sort of photo of the two of you together and post it. like yeah, he posts a lot on a regular basis, but it’s not that hard to notice when you, specifically, are being posted a lot more often compared to everyone else.

when bokuto actually posted a cute candid photo of you holding the most gorgeous bouquet of roses, and somewhere on the screen it’ll say ‘guess whose officially the boyfriend to the most gorgeous girl’, and everyone is literally like “WHATTTTTTTT??” “I thought you guys were ALREADY dating.”

#bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #ushijima x reader #tsukishima x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima fluff #bokuto fluff #oikawa fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei #𐚁 — runa’s sugar dust (🍬)

243 notes · View notes

selenepsyche · 2 days ago

Text

Your Venus Sign as an Iconic Female K-pop Visual

Hello everyone! Here's another fun post for y'all! Let me know which female you got in the comments down below! Also please know that the Venus sign won't be the idol's actual Venus sign (if it is then it's coincidental). But this is based off of my own observations.

Aries Venus - CL

CL (2NE1) is the perfect example of the Aries Venus. Her fashion style has always been bold, raw, unapologetic, and was one of the first female idols to fully own a "bad bitch" aesthetic. 2NE1 invented the "Girl Crush" concept but CL fully owned it. The main colors of most of her outfits consist of black, red, gold, and silver colors or jewelry. She can rock lace, leather, fur, or multi-patterned clothing. She absolutely rocks avant-garde and streetwear fashion. She has always been full of confidence and swagger, which makes it easier for her to rock those type of clothing.

Taurus Venus - Wonyoung

Wonyoung (IVE) has a fashion sense and visuals that are so Venusian to me. She always seems comfortable in her own skin. No matter what she's doing, she always looks composed and unbothered. Her fashion is elegant, fairy-like, and classy. Her signature style consists of ruffled skirts or dresses, lace or plain stockings, satin, Mary Jane shoes, ribbons, bows, vintage button up shirts or sweaters, and silver jewelry. She has innate and effortless beauty. She doesn't have to chase attention because she naturally gets it. She is always glowing and a true divine feminine.

Gemini Venus - Soyeon

The main thing I love about Soyeon (I-dle) is how she fits any concept that I-dle does. Whether the era consists of Y2K, burlesque, or streetwear fashion, she wears it with ease. She has changed her hairstyles many times as well. She can pull off anything and wears pretty much anything, so because of this I don't know what signature style to give her. She is like a fashion chameleon. She is also very charismatic, confident, and unpredictable.

Cancer Venus - Mina

Mina (Twice) has been seen in different types of fashion, but the one that suits her best is her soft, elegant, Old-Hollywood style of clothing. With this style, she usually wears satin or vintage style dresses, stiletto heels, long boots, lace, silver jewelry, or a casual blazer and skirt set. It's similar to Wonyoung's, but their vibes are different. In my opinion, Mina's beauty is more Cancerian because she looks and feels more gentle and mysterious, with soft expressions that pull you in. She is graceful with a dreamy aura and gentle movements.

Leo Venus - Jennie

Jennie (Blackpink) is a great example of a Leo Venus because she radiates main character energy without effort. Ever since she debuted in Blackpink, she has been seen as the it girl of her generation and has always been the most popular member. Even when she's not doing much, her presence is always felt. Jennie always wears outfits that are memorable, stylish, expressive, and statement-making. No matter the style, she always owns her outfits.

Virgo Venus - Yoona

Yoona (Girls' Generation) is a perfect example of a Virgo Venus. She wears clothes that are clean, refined, and minimalistic. She doesn't overdo her outfits nor her makeup. She embodies quiet elegance and grace. She doesn't really experiment with her style, just keeps it consistent and simple. She is known for being private and poised, which fits how Virgo's are usually full of dignity and subtly. She wasn't the original "Nation's Center" for no reason.

Libra Venus - Tzuyu

Tzuyu (Twice) has beauty that is harmonious, symmetrical, and effortless. Tzuyu has the kind of beauty that looks like she is a living art piece. Her presence feels peaceful and balanced. She usually wears flowy dresses, brighter colors, and gracefully tailored outfits. Her outfits don't ever feel out of place even if it's a style she rarely wears. But she definitely excels at wearing more formal, romantic, and elegant styles.

Scorpio Venus - Sunmi

I just love Sunmi. She has released versatile comebacks, but most of them still always carry a sensual and magnetic undertone to them. Her gaze and body language is always powerful. She always makes deep and powerful love songs (Heroine, Gashina, Tail), while releasing music videos with important and even darker messages (Noir), which is very Scorpio Venus coded. In her fashion, she usually wears black and red clothing, and sometimes floral patterns in short, flowy dresses.

Another thing I noticed is how she also wears florals a lot and even has flower visuals in some of her music videos. It's ironic because Scorpio Venus represents transformation and duality, which flowers perfectly represent. Flowers are beautiful and on the outside, but represent life, death, rebirth, and desire, which aligns with Scorpio's themes of transformation and and emotional depth. A flower can be crushed, plucked, and left to wither, which is similar to Scorpio's feelings of attachment and loss.

Sagittarius Venus - BIBI

Similar to Gemini Venus, I've noticed that Bibi's outfits are versatile, but a bit more experimental. One minute she's wearing a tightly fitted leather black dress with fish nets, the next minute she's wearing a big fluffy, multicolored dress. Then she gonna be wearing a bright and bold outfit with mismatched patterns and colors, then gonna hop in a simple cotton romper with only one or two colors on it. She is an absolute wild card and even knows how to blend certain styles, materials, and colors together to create a unique outfit.

Capricorn Venus - Krystal

Krystal (Fx) radiates an energy that is cool, composed, and chic. Her beauty reminds me of the old money aesthetic. She's luxurious and sophisticated. Her energy and fashion gives off quiet superiority and elite taste. She usually wears outfits in neutral and darker colors, such as brown, beige, white, black, dark blues, dark reds, and grey. She usually wears simple midi skirts, tailored women's suits, high heels or long boots, long and simple satin, cotton, flowy dresses, and occasional denim jeans with a simple shirt. She shows how less is more.

Aquarius Venus - Ningning

I feel like I can put Aespa as a whole group, but I decided to put Ningning because I feel like her outfits suit Aquarius Venus the most. Ningning's outfits are innovative, unique, and trend-setting. In my opinion, her stage outfits are some of the best out of all of Aespa's comebacks. Not only that, but the way she evolves in her fashion is amazing. One day, she could look cute and casual, then the next day she may look bold and glamorous, then after that she may look futuristic, and it'll all feel and look natural. Her beauty and style is unconventional and original.

Pisces Venus - IU

IU truly embodies everything about a Pisces Venus. She's like poetry in motion. Her beauty is soft, mystical, dreamy, and ethereal. She usually wears outfits that seem like they're straight out of a fairytale book. She wears pastel colors, lose and sheer fabrics, short dresses with detailed cuts and jewels on them, florals, and silver accessories with heels or short boots. She radiates a beauty that attracts many people, yet is subtle and bittersweet.

Thank you all so much for reading this post! This was very fun to make, especially since I love fashion a lot as well. I hope you all enjoyed this and if you have any question, leave them down in the comment section!

dividers: @uzmacchiato & @anitalenia pictures: Pinterest

166 notes · View notes

atxchiphxbix · 2 days ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS

synopsis: Caleb has always been difficult to surprise, and in the days leading up to his birthday, that proves to still be true. Luckily for you, he can never deny you of anything.

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, established relationship, caleb and reader are both kinda switchy? oral (m! receiving) fingering, mutual masturbation, riding, praise, swearing, pet names (good girl, pipsqueak, honey etc.) gege is used flirtatiously, p in v, unprotected sex, caleb comes inside, reader bites caleb, reader sucks on a dildo, reader also throws a dildo at caleb. This is just inspired by 'no-return night' since i haven't played through the card yet and this was written before his card.

a/n: the only reason why this came out today is bcs i’ve been working on it for 2 months, and it was supposed to be posted at 6:13 but my productivity is bad so...

Ever since you and Caleb began dating, specifically getting more intimate, you've discovered more sides to him that you've never seen before.

Not just how much stamina or libido the colonel holds, but rather how much restraint he has — and how much you lack said restraint.

Simply put, you want to suck Caleb off and he won't let you.

You've tried every trick in the book; begging, whining, pawing, deals, hell you've resorted to straight-up asking him. To which he replies, in a smooth honeyed voice, “I just wanna make you feel good instead, pipsqueak. I feel good when you feel good.” It's absolutely infuriating in the most endearing way possible.

He must have been a robot in his past life to refuse such an eager request from you, out of all people.

It honestly makes you upset, frustrated to the point that you're positive he’s just a cruel man who enjoys seeing you tear up, tugging his shirt, begging for a small taste of him. The most you've gotten of his taste is the tang of his sticky cum off your fingers or an intoxicating cocktail of your shared climaxes, mixed between your tongues.

You want to feel him, all of him. You want his hot length between your lips, to feel the ache of his cock as it throbs on your wanting tongue. You want his dick, glossed in your gooey saliva and his pre-cum, to angle until the blunt tip bullies the back of your throat. You want to look up at him through your lashes, drops of tears collected on your waterline, and see the prettiest flush on his face as he looks down at you on your knees, worshiping him as he does for you. Internally, you want him to make you take all of him.

It's upsetting too since he's such a hypocrite, a man who understands your position exactly. Caleb could spend hours between your thighs, suckling and lapping at the soft folds of your twitchy pussy until his mouth and chin drool with your addictive wetness. He begs for it and you give in, every single time.

Can you blame him? He’s been waiting for years to get a taste of you. He just can't get enough of the way you whimper out his name, fingers pulling and tugging at the soft strands of his dark mahogany hair, writhing from the pleasure he gives you. But he also doesn’t seem to understand the brevity of your current situation; what’s so difficult about letting his lover suck him off!?

And so your final plan begins, one you’re certain will work: you will definitely achieve your dream of having Caleb's cock down your throat on the night of his birthday. Specifically, taking him in all the way until he bruises the back of your mouth and leaves your throat sore and voice hoarse the next morning. You figured it’d be a nice surprise along with all the other gifts you’ve spent days planning. After all, this is a birthday meant only for him.

Unfortunately, it’s always been difficult to surprise Caleb.

Ever since you two were young, he’s been difficult to surprise. The man simply knows you too well, every action out of order you make causes him to increase an inkling of suspicion that he immediately snuffs out of you through devious means. It really can’t be helped though, he has known you for your entire life, lived an eternity in your own skin.

And there’s another problem you figured would throw a kink in your plans. Everything about Caleb is big, his height, thighs, biceps… and especially his cock.

You can still recall the first time you two slept together, you were sore for days. The satisfying ache of your burning thighs always served as a reminder of your time together. And even now, no matter how much you took him or how much time he spent trying to stretch your tight cunt to accommodate his thick length, he always felt so full inside you.

So it'd be difficult (and unwise) to try and immediately have him balls deep in your throat, fucking and rocking his hips into your warm mouth until you're drooling and gagging.

But if Caleb had a match in determination and perseverance, it'd be you. You're willing to do anything to get that man in your mouth, you'll make him see what he's been denying himself of.

That's how you find yourself perched on your knees, the night before Caleb’s birthday, licking your lips while your eyes are locked onto the daunting purple dildo plastered on your wall. It’s out of place in your room. Honestly, the ridiculous item shouldn’t be here when you have a lover perfectly willing to go along with whatever you wish, all except for your deepest desire to give him head.

It's certainly no Caleb. The toy lacks his intoxicating warmth, his sensual musk that clings, and the satisfying thickness of his cock that stretches your pretty pussy so well, reaching into the deepest parts of you.

As you run your tongue along the cold underside, feeling the blunt ridges of the plastic veins pressing down onto your wet muscle, you can only dream that it's Caleb instead. You envision that it's his pulsing veins, throbbing for the warmth of your soothing tongue like a balm for his arousal, his cock that weighs heavily in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to take the toy in deeper until it fills the warm cavern of your mouth completely, jaw slack and drool dripping from the corners of your lips, stretched wide around the purple plastic. The tip barely teases the back of your throat but you find yourself gagging, saliva sticking to the toy in webs as you pull off.

You imagine that it's Caleb panting above you, cheeks flushed with the prettiest shade of crimson, looking down at you with a gentle hand threaded into the strands of your hair, guiding you back to his aching cock that leaks with the tang of his pre and your spit, eagerly feeding his girth to you. His eyes would be glazed with the familiar look of want and need, hips bucking sloppily into the warm wetness as you allow him to fill up the space of your throat, setting the rhythm however he pleases.

And fuck, the thought of him like that soaks you. You want him to use your mouth, claim it as nothing but a hole for his pleasure. Maybe it's his devoted personality or the contrast of his usual composure, but you want him to lose control, to fuck into your mouth without restraint, using you for all the pleasure he gives you.

Quickly, your fingers slide down your body. The soft pads of your digits tweak at your sensitive nipples and your back curves into a beautiful arch, searching for your own touch. Your free hand slithers down even lower, gliding down the expanse of your stomach, further past the waistband of your shorts, diving below the sopping fabric of your panties.

The sweetest gasp is elicited when your middle and forefinger find your clit, shivering and moaning around the plastic in your mouth as you caress in slow circles, trying your best to mimic the familiarity of Caleb's movement if he were here. It's almost absurd how sensitive you feel, like your nerves are shot, already feeling overstimulated even though you're barely gracing yourself with the wisps of euphoria.

Gradually, your slow rotations turn faster, collecting globs of your heady slick to rub tight circles around your wanton clit. The wetness allows your finger to slide into your fluttering pussy with ease, stroking along the gummy walls that clench greedily, angling into the sweet spot that has your moans vibrating onto the dildo.

But it shouldn't be this stupid toy you're moaning around, shouldn't be your fingers you're fucking yourself stupid on, it should be Caleb. It should be Caleb's heavy cock you choke on, his fingers that pump into you, pressing against that spot that has your toes curling and the tight knot bubbling in your stomach.

Even if this is his surprise, you want him here, watching you. You want his eyes to look at you like he always does, hungry and wanting. You want him to touch you, to feel his warm palms as they slide down the expanse of your body, groping at your tits, and playing with your sensitive clit. You want him here.

"Pipsqueak?"

Shit.

Before you can help it, your orgasm barrels through your traitorous body, shocking into your nervous system like igniting sparks of lightning. It's a matter of split seconds before you jump away from the toy, your body heaving with heavy breaths and your cheeks burning red. Your eyes snap up to him and the expression of shock set on his beautiful features, you look away, around the room before you realize the position you're in.

What the hell do you even say? Shouldn't he be in Skyhaven? You’re supposed to meet at his house tomorrow, so why the hell is he here?

It feels like a million beats of your heart passes by before you start hesitantly, eyes flickering up to him. "Cal-"

"What are you doing?"

He cuts you off, eyes baring down on your kneeling form, pupils roaming over your body. For a second, you wonder if he's upset, but as your gaze migrates down his body, settling on the bulge hidden in his pants, it doesn't seem that way. Rather, quite the opposite.

Well, better now than never. Your surprise is already ruined anyway.

"Just…" You trail off, swallowing the built up saliva in your sore throat. An excuse fails to rise in your mind, too far gone in the moment to even think about denying what he's just witnessed.

Heavily, you sigh, heat creeping up your neck before you find the words quickly spilling from you, created in a rush of flustered anger before even processing what you’re saying.

"I just wanna give you a blowjob and you won't let me, Caleb! What am I supposed to do but suck on this stupid toy because you won't let me give you head!? You wanna eat me out every time we have sex and I always let you, but you won't let me give you head! You're a hypocrite!"

Rather indignantly during your haphazard flurried spew of words, you reach for the wet dildo that's still suctioned to your wall, fingers clasping around it as you pull it off and fling the purple plastic his way, missing his frozen body completely.

“It’s always like this! I don’t understand why you’re denying me, I just wanna make you feel good too! I just wanna give you a special present…”

He doesn't say anything, no response to your words that are obviously created for him to take pity on you, a final surge to get what you want. He simply watches you until a small, sympathetic smile makes its way to his pink lips, pants growing taut against his arousal.

You’re just too cute.

Caleb hopes you don't blame for getting hard (or do blame him, he wants your attention). He can't help the betrayal of his body's reaction to his gorgeous lover, partly because he walked in on you with your hands between your thighs, and a toy stretching your throat, and partly because he's never realized how good you look on your knees.

It's a sight he never lets himself indulge in.

It's bad, it's something he'll get too addicted to. It’s the ripe beckon of a forbidden fruit hanging off a low branch that he must tear himself away from.

A greedy man like him should never get something like that from you, not when he should be the one pleasing you. He's satisfied enough with getting to feel your cunt fluttering around his cock, your lips on his, and the taste of you. Even with simply that, he's already too far gone.

He'd never tell you but that's a reason why he's insistent on not letting your warm mouth encase his cock. Caleb is a man who knows himself well. He knows that the moment your tongue runs along the sensitive veins, soft cheeks hollowing around the ridges of his dick — he'll be goner, reduced to a man at your euphoric mercy, even more so than he already is.

So he can't do it. Can't indulge in himself more than he already does with your body, even if it tortures him every time to rebuke your attempts (to be honest, he also likes seeing you beg). But when you're crawling to him, sitting at his feet, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, and leaning forward until your soft mouth is pressed to the strained fabric, he doesn't find himself telling you off.

"Please, Caleb?" You whine, voice sending the smallest vibrations through his cock, slithering up through his nerves to paint the apples of his cheeks red.

He was so strong and disciplined the other times so why not now? Is it because he caught you, knuckles deep in your own pussy, moaning around a cock or because he's been denying himself of this act for so long? Or because you’re doing this for him?

Perhaps both, but he blames the sight of you already on your knees, eager to please, even eagerer because it's him.

And all of a sudden, it's too hot. You're too pretty, too eager, such a pretty girl begging for something so dirty. Something he knows he shouldn't give into.

"What are you doin' to me?" His voice cracks, a whisper, a final plea before you see that reluctant look in his eye, Adam's apple bobbing with the heavy gulps of saliva.

Checkmate.

With eager hands, you're pushing his shirt up slightly to expose the ridge of his iliac furrow, taking in the quiet stuttering of his shallow breath as your lips find his hot flesh, kissing your way lower to follow the trail of his pants being pulled down.

"Thank you, Caleb." You murmur gently, mouth panting against the thin briefs that stand as the only layer between you and your well earned prize.

For a second, Caleb thinks you're teasing him, toying with him since he denied you of this for so long, but your voice sounds genuine. Too grateful, too reverent for him. He thinks he might cum just from the pressure of your wispy breath and the vibrations of your syllables.

"Don't, fuck, don't say things like that when you're on your knees like this." He throws his head back, fingers clenched at his sides as he looks down upon your kneeling form. He really can't believe he's letting you do this. But if it were anyone, it’d have to be you.

And he sucks in a breath when your soft, warm tongue swipes across his sensitive, leaky tip, a broken whine ripping from his throat at the slight pressure. The pleasure bubbles from his stomach, crawling through his nerves, climbing effortlessly to muddle his brain. He can't help the way his hips almost twitch, his body almost too eager to give into the sliver of attention to his throbbing ache, too excited to delve into your inviting warmth.

He's absolutely doomed.

You almost smile when he croaks out your name, a plea of sorts, a whine to relieve what you've started. With great pleasure, you blink up at him, your own breath hitching when you catch sight of his heaving chest, his bottom lip tugged between the rows of his teeth, cheeks flushed a heavy pink at your ministrations.

Caleb's lavender irises hold set on your kneeling form, drinking in how the head of his cock rests on your pink tongue, drooling precum, and how eagerly you lap it all up. He wants to look at you, but when you run your tongue along the thick, sensitive veins, his eyes flutter tightly shut as if the pleasure will soothe away and he can find it in himself to not shoot his load all over your face.

The mental image does not help at all. Rather, he feels himself getting harder in the walls of your mouth. It's so vivid in his mind, your cheeks stained with his hot load as you blink up at him, tongue lolled out to show how well you swallowed his seed.

It's filthy. The scenario is one he often indulges in on nights alone with his fingers wrapped tightly around the sticky flesh of his throbbing cock, stroking himself off to the thought of his cock stuffing your cheeks, and never in your presence. But now, you've got him wrapped around your finger and buried in your mouth. He's sure you're pleased with yourself right now.

And you are, quite so now that you have what you want. As you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, admiring its sheer size and how heavy it is as it rests against your face, you also notice how Caleb looks at this moment; heat blooming across his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, and hands fisted at his side like touching you will burn him more than his body already is.

You allow yourself to wrap your lips around the tangy head of his cock, suckling softly while your hands reach for his, gently guiding them to rest on the strands of your hair. His fingers twitch, almost burying into the tendrils of hair, but he doesn't, holding onto that last bit of restraint in his muddled mind.

It pisses you off. You're on your knees for him (literally) and he still wants to hold back?

With a soft moan bubbling in your throat, you sink deeper onto his cock. An act that finally has his fingers curling around your hair and a hissing gasp to escape him. Even with only a few inches filling your throat, it nearly burns. A familiar stretch that you're used to filling up your slick pussy cunt rather than the cavern of your mouth.

Your saliva builds around his girthy dick, slickening the swift bobbing of your head, making it easier to glide down along his length. The brief practice on the toy did little to help because the way his dick stuffs your throat is vastly different. He's warm, hard, and moaning the sweet syllables of your name, all things that the piece of plastic severely lacked. And all things that have the space in your thighs growing slick once more.

Caleb can't help himself any longer. He can't help the way his fingers curl into the strands of your hair, tugging gently despite his best attempts not to. Can't help the whining and groaning of your name that fall from his lips. He's so fucking hard, so sensitive, and the gentle constricting of your throat makes it all worse. His breath hitches, fingers uncurling to pet at your bobbing head, soothing the mussed strands — a praise his mouth fails to form.

Slowly, meticulously, like he's holding himself back, his hips rock against your mouth, pushing inches deeper until your own eyes squint shut and he's reaching places the toy didn't that has you gagging. And it almost makes him feel bad when he looks down at you, face stuffed full of his thick cock, veins drooling with your saliva, hands wrapped around the ridges of his dick that you can’t take down.

But he also can’t stop, not that you want him to. His mouth releases breathy groans, hips humping against your sloppy mouth with his head thrown back, cheeks flushed and hair sweaty. The evidence of your love and lust is strewn all over his body in waves of pleasure and euphoria.

Your throat envelopes his length so well, the symphony of lewd squelching fills the hot air of your bedroom, growing louder as you try to take him even deeper. A little too deep. His cock hits the back of your throat, gagging and almost spluttering in short coughs before you pull off, mouth open and bands of spittle connecting your tongue to the angry, flushed tip.

His palm doesn't move from your head when you back off, unrestrained whines tearing from his throat at the loss of your addicting warmth. His large hand pets your head gently in a soothing rhythm while he pants heavily, crooning soft reassurances. "You, fuck, okay, baby? Did so good for me, so, so good. You don't have to keep-"

His voice pitches when your tongue is on his cock once more, swallowing him into your mouth with vigor. His eyes are trained on you, flickering from your eyes to the way your mouth envelopes his thick girth, saliva wetting his throbbing veins. Praises spew from his mouth, soothing reassurances, hips bucking with the urgent need to cum.

"So gorgeous, ha, so pretty with my cock stuffed in your throat. My pretty girl, good girl, takin' it so well."

You bask in his generous praise, soaked between your thighs as you try to take him farther into your sloppy maw again, but you're prevented by his gentle hand rebuking you, holding you still on his cock, and subdued by his gentle reprimands. "Easy, no need to be so eager. ‘S all yours, all yours."

He moans it like he's coaxing himself. It's all yours, this is just for you and no one else. No one else sees him this vulnerable, this exposed, this desperate for a touch. Only for you.

He punctuates his words with lazy humps into your sloppy maw, not too deep, not too shallow either. The familiar itch of an orgasm crawls up his throbbing cock, the tip of his dick growing sensitive as you continue savoring him, allowing him to use you as he pleases. His fingers tighten in your hair, voice dwindling into a low keening groan of your name while his body curls in, shoulders tensing, body growing overwhelmingly susceptible to the onslaught of bliss.

“Pi-pipsqueak, fuck, ‘m close.” He whines loudly, head falling forward to drink in the sight of your mouth suctioned around his hot length. Violet irises are trained on your lips stretched around the base of his cock, the schlicking of your spit, and, hell, the sight of your hand between your thighs, no doubt toying with your needy clit, dripping all over your palm.

“Gonna cum, shit, get off, baby. ‘Mgonnacumgonnacumgonncum-"

And he really can’t hold back when your warm hand reaches up to cup his balls, flattening your tongue along the blunt head of his pearly tip, swirling and sucking to milk his cum out.

His orgasm barrels into him rapidly, a groaning whimper of your name torn from his lips. His balls tighten in your fingers, body tensing while his hips lose control and buck up, deeper than he should. It has you gagging once more, unable to pull off from his fingers buried in your hair. Caleb holds you down against his thick cock, nose almost smushed against his sweaty pelvis for a second. One. Two. Three. Until the blissful spasms relieve his body.

Gently pinned by Caleb, warm spurts of his sticky, thick seed fill your mouth, flooding your tastebuds, shooting down your throat in messy, white rivulets. Even when you pull off, he’s still cumming, pleading your name when your hand replaces the friction of your wet mouth, stroking him off the rest of his high.

Ropes of his release continue to spill, ribbons splattering onto your cheeks, sliding down onto your outstretched tongue, joining the pool of his ivory cum already in your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, catching sight of your lover panting, chest heaving, and bottom lip caught between his teeth while he looks down at you.

Caleb always thinks you look pretty, but here, right now, he thinks you look the prettiest. You, down on your knees with your cheeks bathed in white streaks of his cum. His twitching cock settles on your face, the heavy weight presses on your tongue as you lap away the remaining pearls of his cum dribbling down the ridges and onto the skin of your fingers.

"Mmm, was that okay?" You question softly, voice murmured against his softening cock, peering up at him through the canopy of your lashes.

Your question is answered when he tugs you up quickly, eagerly pressing his lips to yours, his heavy tongue darting out to pry your mouth open, tasting himself on you.

"You- fuck, did so good, pipsqueak." His praise is smushed against your lips, unwilling to break the kiss, straight-laced on maintaining any connection he has with you. "So, so good."

He kisses you harder, wetter, and messier than when you were on your knees for him. Caleb kisses you like a starving man, insistent and overwhelming, pushing himself into your space until your senses are filled with nothing but his immense presence.

The tangy taste of his cum is swapped between the two of you and he's moaning at the mixed taste. The taste of him and you, swirled together more intimately than anyone could ever get, a flavor only he gets to savor on your tongue.

In the mess of your hazy kisses, drunk off each other's intoxicating taste, you both stumble through the room, the stench of blissed arousal mixing in the air. Your arms wrap around his neck, mouth open to invite his tongue to meet yours in a familiar rhythm, urging him impossibly closer to your warm heat.

Caleb takes the opportunity to latch his hands around your hips, pushing backward until the back of your knees finds the edge of your bed frame, falling backward onto your back with him following soon after. He collapses on top of you, supported by his hands on either side of your head, admiring how you look in the dim light.

Your hair splays around the sheets, framing your flushed features that gaze up at him so lovingly. Swollen lips tugged between your teeth so prettily and your breasts heaving with heavy breaths, inhaling his recognizable scent that’s lived with you for as long as you remember.

With a heavy sigh, Caleb allows himself to fall forward, headfirst into the swell of your breasts. He feels completely boneless, blissed out, and completely satisfied with the aftershocks of pleasure thrumming through his veins. But that doesn't stop his adventurous fingers from skittering along the mound of your thighs, slipping in between the space of your legs, immediately finding your clit through your soaked panties.

After all, he can't leave his special girl unsatisfied now, can he?

"Hm, so wet, aren't 'cha?" He murmurs against your breast, a loving smile on his lips. "That's alright, let me clean that up for you, sweetheart.”

With practiced ease, he slips your shirt over your head, revealing the hardening buds of your nipples in the heated air. The sensitive buds are taken into his warm mouth, suckling on the tit just as gently as you did on him earlier. His tongue is warm and wet, rolling the nipple along his tongue, moaning at the taste of your salty skin.

The ministration has your back curving into an arch, his free hand sliding under you, reaching around to grope and pinch at your other mound. He curls into your side to cradle you against his warm torso, one arm wrapped behind you, the other slipped between your thighs with practiced ease.

His fingers are lithe and long, with veins running from his wrist down to the calloused pads that roll your clit gently, coaxing the softest moans to fall from you. Caleb likes it better this way, more than when your mouth was stuffed full with his cock. He likes hearing you, seeing your cheeks bloom with heat, face to face as he toys with the body he knows so well.

He's swiping at your sensitive pearl until you're burying your face into the crook of his sweaty neck, mouthing at his salty skin, and digging your nails painfully into his strong biceps. He plays around with your cunt, making sure every calculated pressure and touch sends your mind reeling into some pool of euphoria, too mind-numbing to even consider what he's doing to you.

You want it. You want him. You want everything of him.

"Caleb," Your voice escapes as a breathy whine, hot against his skin. "Please, no need for this… I already came once, 'm wet enough."

Caleb only laughs softly, sympathetic to your eagerness. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, a dizzying contrast to his fingers that prod around your clenching hole. You already know what he's going to say, insisting that he stretches you out, but it doesn’t subdue the ache burning at your body and restraint. Attentive, as he's always been.

"Can't do that, sweetheart." He smiles against your head, inhaling the scent of your hair as his fingers dip just barely into your sopping heat, the gentle pads of his finger feeling inside your gooey walls. A motion that has you gasping, hands shooting to hold his wrist as if he'll stop and think about your plea. "That wasn't from me, it doesn't count."

The last part is said with lingering possession, a glint in his eyes as he stares down upon you. He wasn't the one to stretch you out, it doesn't count if it's the work of your own fingers, doesn't count if he isn't the one to take care of you.

"'S just quick, honey. Be a good girl and let me take care of you, yeah? It’s what the birthday boy wants." A smile curls at his lips, kind, gentle, warm. Like he wasn't just moaning your name, humping your mouth, and shooting ropes of sticky cum down your throat minutes prior. “Weren’t you sucking that dildo for me? Practicing for my cock down your throat on my birthday?”

“Wha- how did-”

Before you can question, he silences you with a kiss, tongue drawn into yours in a quiet hush. Unfortunately, it works. Placates the ache building in your cunt, mind succumbed to the movement of his lips against yours, sucking and rolling on your tongue in languid movements.

“How could I not know? We’ve spent so many years together, do you really need to ask at this point?”

Against your thigh, you can feel his cock twitching back to life, reacting to your curves that meld against the smooth ridges of his body. A knowing sigh leaves his lips, kissed to yours when you, predictably, send your hand dancing down the length of his torso, wrapping your smooth fingers around his girth.

The steady flicks of your wrist have him gasping into your lips, pulling away slightly to meet your coy gaze, set on his purple hues.

"I left all the planning for you. Who would’ve thought that you wanted this." He says, smug and amused. That is, until your palm domes over the sensitive head of his cock, hissing out a gasp and a sharp buck of his hips.

His reaction sends a gratifying thrill through your body, all the power held in your hands, and so pleased at his body's betrayal. "Don't tease me, Caleb."

"Alright, alright, I won't." He rumbles, apologizing with a kiss on your lips and the sinking of a single finger into your walls.

His finger is long, reaching deeper than yours ever could, all the way down to his knuckle. It slides in with a prurient squelch, joining the repetitive 'schlick schlick' of your hand encasing Caleb's cock, pumping over him in rhythmic motions. Along with a quiet groan, he connects his lips to yours, swallowing the whine that escapes when he slides another finger into the slick mess between your legs.

It's erotic, the heady air stifling the room. Your hips twist, unabashed against his fingers, forcing his warm pads to brush along that special spot that has your features contorting in pleasure and your back arching into his body. Your muscles constrict, legs shaking lightly when he adds his thumb to the mix, rubbing quick circles against your sensitive bud that has your body keening instantly for him.

It'd be almost unfair if he wasn't also so far gone in your touch. Caleb can't help the way his hips buck and twitch into your closed fist. Your warm palm runs along the ridges of his cock, curving over his blunt tip so gently to collect the pearls of pre, fucking it back over his cock, sending a sensation just shy of pain up his spine. It’s so fucking sensitive, everything is. Enhanced by your mere presence, he feels like he could just combust.

Whatever effect he has on you is increased tenfold on him.

You're panting against each other's mouth, swallowing moans and swapping webs of saliva. Each push of his fingers in you sends the filthiest sound resonating throughout the bedroom, the hot air intoxicating the both of you, wrapped in each other's embrace along with the gentle stoking of euphoric bliss.

Amidst your constant moans, hips pumping sloppily over his three fingers, you manage to call his name out in broken syllables. Quiet, a plea to him.

"Caleb, enough, please." You purr his name, free hand digging crescent marks into his skin.

Everything is so wet; his cock, your cunt, your lips, your bodies. Everything is filled with an ache that needs to be filled, pieces of a puzzle only for each other to solve and savor.

You don't wait for him to respond before you're untangling yourself from his numbed limbs, pushing him onto his back to settle into his lap. The loss of his fingers almost erupts a whine to bubble in your lips, hushed by the feel of his cock straining under the warmth of your body, pulsing against your belly.

His cock stands tall against the expanse of your stomach, bigger than what you remember having in your mouth.

Caleb is, by no means, a small man. He's well-endowed in many forms, and his cock is no exception. The sight of it against your stomach makes your mouth water once more. He's big and burly, with angry, thick veins running along his shaft. Pearls of pre dribble down his length, pooling onto his abdomen, begging to be licked up.

No matter how many times you've seen it, your gaze is always caught, breath hitched in your throat at the realization that this has been inside you, streaming thick jets of seed in you, claiming you.

"You've seen it before," Caleb's voice snaps you out of your stupor, flickering up to his eyes. "Why so shocked? You just had it in your mouth earlier, scared?"

His eyes fill with mirth, an emotion he really shouldn't be feeling in the moment. A warm laugh of lasciviousness escapes him as his hands travel up the plains of your body, cupping your tits once more to roll the buds between his dexterous hands. He's always so smug when it comes to this, a sense of joy encapsulating his heart when he sees how dearly you adore his cock. And while some men may take offense at being seen for such a thing, Caleb drinks in all the joy.

He especially drinks in the way his cock drools onto your navel. It's pretty, the way the beads of pre cum smear onto your stomach, eager to sink in your tight warmth. If you want it this way, so be it. He's already given into your desires earlier, what's one more for you?

What's one more of anything for you, really?

His hips find purchase on your hips, looking up at your expression, a want that mirrors his own. Slowly, he pulls you forward, chest to chest, ensuring that your warm folds meet his burning cock, lathering himself thick with your slick.

The touch has the both of you groaning out. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, curling at the cool metal of his dog tag as your clit rolls over the underside of his cock, frictioned between a vein of pulsing arousal, sending short shocks of bliss through your nerves. It has you leaking even more, pussy drooling over his hard cock.

"Caleb… come on." You plead, hips lifting with thick strands of arousal connecting your cunt to his length. You shouldn't even need to beg, your gooey cunt is practically crying for him anyways.

In response, his hands on your hips tighten, easily pushing and pulling you over his painfully hard cock. His blunt tip kisses your clit, slit spilling his arousal over the pearly bundle of nerves, creating a slippery friction between the two of you. The friction sings between you both, squelches created with every passionate motion.

"You're the one on me, pipsqueak. You wanted to be on top, didn't you?"

And you know he wants you too, even more than you. But Caleb is mean, a bully who lives to see you whine and beg (it gets him impossibly harder to see you rely on him, needing him). Even as his cock throbs, blood flushing through the veins of his cock, felt right under the sensitive hood of your weeping cunt.

If the heat simmering between you two wasn't consuming your mind, thinking with your drooling pussy instead of your mind, you'd have hopped off and left him rock hard for teasing you so cruelly. He's lucky you want him right now.

So with trembling hands, your fingers wrap around the tip of his cock, pulling slightly off your sticky clit, strings of arousal breaking off before guiding him to your throbbing hole. The slicked head presses insistently against you, hot against your core, barely breaching through your tight rim.

Slowly, you finally sink down.

The two of you gasp at the intrusion, features twisting and curving into one of pleasure and hot relief. Your breath is knocked from your lungs, oxygen flying out as your thighs burn with pressure. Inside and out. Your eyes flutter shut, nails raking into his shoulders while he fills up the deepest parts of you.

He's just so big. A feature of him that's made even more prominent when he's angling his hips up to smooch at your g-spot that he knows so well.

Warm, wet, velvety walls pillow his throbbing cock, a low hiss escaping from his kiss-bitten lips.

"Ah, fuck, sweets… so fucking tight…" Hot palms press against your hips, pulling you both chest to chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart against his. The rhythmic cadence mirrors one another, beating in sync like a perfectly timed metronome.

Your sweat-slicked skin glides smoothly against his chest as you lift up, leaving just the sensitive head of his dick nestled inside your gummy walls before you’re sliding down with a delicate moan tumbling from your lips. The swift movement leaves you lightheaded, numbed from liquid bliss that jets through every high-strung nerve. Your pussy swallows him up so greedily, unwilling to let him go.

“Caleb.” You keen the syllables of his name, raspy and breathy.

Gods, he thinks he can cum just from that. Just the sound of his name falling from your lips is enough for him to feel the burning heat shooting up his spine, dick twitching with the need to claim your womb with his potent seed. The urge to cum flies through his mind, lips finding the seam of yours to kiss, swallow, consume every part of you.

Your senses fill with just him as his dick presses so gently in your core, enhanced every time you sink onto him, sheathing his warm length in the gooey heat of your messy cunt. The squelch that follows is obscene, a beg from your greedy pussy to keep him close, buried in you. Even if your mind, filled with the feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of you at your own pace, is incapable of voicing your pleasure, he finds that he’ll listen to your pussy instead.

In response to the salacious noise, strong arms slither around your waist to pull you impossibly closer; heart to heart, lips on lips, holding you close like a secret for himself. A secret he'd never give away, tucked into the smooth crevices of his beating heart, protected by the curved bones of his ribs.

You're a secret meant only for him, a special pedestal chiseled out in his soul for you.

The reverberation of flesh on flesh resonates throughout the room. Your hips drop down on him repeatedly, mixed with the grinding of your hips, rolling your aching clit on the surface of his body. Your arms pull him close by his neck, tongue tangling with his to devour the mantra of your name that leave his lips, trailing down to suck and mark the column of his smooth neck.

Hues of rose bloom against his pale flesh, contrasting against the silver of his necklace, cool on his heated flesh. Caleb allows his head to loll back, holding you tight against him, allowing you to bounce yourself on his cock, using him for your desires.

That’s all he ever wants from you — he simply wishes for you to use him, own him, ruin him. Caleb simply wants to be yours.

“So good, baby. Doin’ so good for me, using’ me so good.” His praise falls loosely as if you can even understand his words amidst your endless mewls of his name, helplessly clinging onto him like a lifeline.

But even clinging onto Caleb doesn’t help the burning muscles of your thighs that increase with every rise off his cock, dropping down so your greedy hole can swallow the thick length once more. And to your dismay, the slowing pace has the wisps of your orgasm slipping through your grasp, the edges of bliss teetering away that pulls a desperate whine from your lips.

“Caleb,” You beg, nails raking down his shoulders. The simple word is enough for him to know what you want, asking him for help like you always do. Running to the only person you’ve ever relied on. He’s the only person you should rely on. “Please, please, ‘m so close…”

“You’re close?” Caleb preens, voice hot and ragged against your ear. “What do you need, hm? Tell me, tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, just tell gege."

He’s not exactly asking, the answer is obvious, even if he didn’t know you like the back of his hand. He can feel it from your fluttering walls, the pitch of your moans, the flurried babbles of unintelligible whimpers that spew from your swollen lips. He knows from the simmering of your body against his, sloppy hips losing the momentum you’ve worked so hard to build, racing to finish around his cock.

His poor girl, getting so tired from riding him. It’s okay, he thinks, he’ll take care of you. Just like he always does.

But he still wants to hear you, wants to listen to that pretty voice he’s spent years devoting himself to. He wants to listen to you plea for his help, rely on him just a little longer, need him just a little more.

“Wanna cum! Wanna cum around your cock, Caleb.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, hips never stopping its irregular rhythm despite the aching burn in your muscles. “Please, I need you. Need you to make me cum.”

The sound of your sweet beg fills his flushed ears, prompting him to pull you closer, hands splayed on your back as his feet anchor into the soft mattress. The next feeling you receive from him is a deep, sharp thrust up into your soaked cunt, cock kissing all the sensitive parts in you.

Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.

The sharp movement has you tipping forward into his chest, arms feebly holding onto him while he bounces you on his thick length, pistoning his girth into your weeping pussy. Salacious squelches follow with every plunge, strings of wetness sticking him to you in webs whenever he pulls out, eager to delve back in. And you can do nothing but take it.

You can do nothing but take the blunt head of his cock as it bullies into your gummy walls, thumb rolling tight circles on your sensitive clit until he has your back curving into him, eyes fluttering shut from the pressure building in your stomach, electricity shooting through you in tiny bursts.

“Need me, huh?” He coos, lilting and proud. You need him. You need him to make you cum because you can’t do it yourself, you need him to bring you to the finish because only he can do it — slotting himself into your life once more.

And Caleb relishes in it. Lives for it. Lives for you. For the way you cling onto him, the seam of your lips pressing wet, hot kisses to his neck, the syllables of his name falling from your lips like a mantra. He lives for the way your cunt flutters around his cock, earning a pleased groan from the man as he feels you quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Close?” He whispers, already knowing the answer. He knows your body better than you do, aware of the blissed pulsing of your pussy and the pitches of your moans that signal your impending climax — all shooting straight to his cock, swallowed in your warmth.

Caleb keeps his persistent pace, panting softly with his cheeks dusted in rosy desire. His hips don’t stop, pulled tighter against you, a hand snaked between your heated torsos to rub at your raw clit, pushing you closer and closer towards the teetering edge of numbing pleasure.

Your body feels like it’s in suspension, torn between a foggy mist of euphoric haze and sharp bursts of electricity numbing your mind. Everything is so sensitive, so wet, so hot. Everything is too much for your body to contain, too much to process.

“O-oh, ‘m cummingcumming, ngh-”

Before you know it, your teeth sinks into the soft junction of Caleb’s neck and shoulder, igniting a sharp gasp from him as your body convulses, tensing and shaking in his hold. Everything completely whites out with a drawn out moan, muffled into his salty flesh. Static floods your mind as you cum around Caleb’s intrusive length, still pistoning in and out of your cunt, leaving it pliable, fuckable for his cum to nestle in your womb.

“Come on, cum for me, sweet girl. Go on, be a good girl, cum nice and hard for me.” Caleb groans out, voice ragged and rough with his own need to cum.

Your tight pussy swallows him whole, hips smooching against yours, cock head grinding perfectly to hit that sweet spot that overstimulates you until you’re biting at his skin, marking him up like a toy. Laying claim on him, making him yours.

It’s enough to make him cum, pushed over the edge. Enough to have him groaning out your name in a choked moan, muscles rippling with bursts of pleasure shooting through his abdomen, his erratically jerking into you. Pools of lavender squint shut while Caleb messily thrusts up into you, hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass to keep you still so the hot, sticky ropes of cum can spurt freely into your welcoming womb. Filled, and fucked back into you, over and over and over.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘s so good—”

Your lips smush onto his, hushing his cries of pleasure. His hands alter you to rock against him, reliving and clasping onto the last aftershocks of numbing pleasure rippling throughout the stems of your nerves. Your tongues move languidly through mewls and groans while your warm palms wander along his skin, mapping out the curves and contours of his body, engraving every detail to memory. Eventually, your hands settle on the space between his collarbone and jaw, thumb massaging the reddening divots against his pale skin created by your teeth.

With a soft sigh, you’re the first to pull away to admire his flushed features, looking lovingly up at you. You lean forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, mumbling softly, “Gonna tell me why you were here?”

Caleb sighs, a wispy smile set on his lips, twirling a strand of your hair around a lithe finger, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He's sure you already know anyway, he has a third eye just for you, after all.

“I just missed you. I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you, but I guess I caught you at a good time though, huh?”

You flush at that, heat blooming on your cheeks even more than you already are. A gentle finger smooths along the crevices of his chest, the tip of your digit dragging with feather-light pressure on where his heart lays, beating fast and hard against the warm pad. “Was supposed to be a surprise…”

Caleb only laughs, kissing away the adorable pout. "Don't worry, I'll act surprised if you want me to. Just don't expect me to go easy on you when that time comes."

He pulls you close, burying his face into the soothing scent of your hair, mixed with the lingering stench of sex and love. He could stay like this forever, with you in his arms, cock softening in your cum-filled cunt, drowning in your familiar presence.

If he could ask for anything for his birthday, it'd be to stay like this. To hide you away from the rest of the world, curled into his protection. He wants to carve you into his heart, caged into the gaps of his ribs where he knows you'll be safe, relying on him. If not, he'd want to live in you. To be settled into your heart, webbed tight into the vessels of your pumping veins, providing everything you'll ever need.

Caleb simply wishes to be close to the one in his heart.

You wrap your arms around him too, clinging to his warmth. Caleb is your sun, always there, always shining, even on the days you forget to look up. He's always a part of your life and you want him there, no matter what. You want Caleb, just Caleb.

With a low sigh, your eyes flicker to the clock on your nightstand, showing in clear, white numbers.

12:00 am, June 13.

"Caleb?" You murmur, hushed and quiet.

His eyes, once fluttered shut, open immediately at the sound of your alluring voice calling for him. He responds with a low hum, fingers mindlessly circling haphazard lines and shapes into your skin as you relax on his chest.

"Happy birthday."

The simple words almost surprise him. He knows you've been planning for quite a while now, eager to give him the best celebration ever, but it's different hearing it like this. Especially when he has you pieced into his large frame, sweaty and sluggish and limp from pleasure. It's different when you murmur it so gently, your voice filled with the cadence of love and devotion.

There are no words that appear in his mind when you whisper to him, only the sudden need to pull you closer, press his heart to yours. He doesn't say anything, only sealing the seam of his lips to yours in a reverent kiss.

"Thank you, honey." Caleb’s lips curl into a boyish smile, charming and sweet.

"Will you tell me what you'll wish for?" Your eyes twinkle with mirth, teasing him affectionately. “I’ll make sure it definitely comes true.”

Caleb can only muster up a laugh, mussing up the strands of your hair with a shake of his head. "No can do, pipsqueak, my lips are sealed shut. If I tell you, it won't happen, you know?"

The response has you rolling your eyes, hands darting up to pinch and tug at his cheeks in retaliation. The answer doesn’t satiate the curiosity in you, only igniting your desire to extract the answer out of him. It ignites a hearty laughter from Caleb who tugs you close, rolling you two over until you're pinned under his large torso, nosing at your cheek with a wide grin.

He wouldn’t tell you. Or maybe you already knew, you always seemed to know things about himself that he didn't. Maybe you already know that he wishes for you to be his forever. In every lifetime. To seek out your soul to hold, bind, and sink into his. He wants to have your hand in his, to descend from the sky with you in his arms.

In this lifetime and every life after, Caleb only wants to be yours.

"Tell me, Caleb!" You whine, pushing him away to no avail. "Please… gege?"

That has Caleb’s breath hitching, a breathy sigh escaping his lungs in exasperation. How does he reject that? Your pleading expression, lips set in a tempting pout, and eyes begging to know his heart’s selfish desire.

Simple, he can’t.

So he lightly flicks your forehead, immediately leaning forward to soothe the touch with a kiss.

“If I tell you,” he murmurs, smooth voice vibrating against your temple, “then you have to make sure it absolutely comes true, alright?”

A smile follows his words, curving wider when he sees your eager nod. His warm palm raises, thumb brushing along the underside of your eyes, curving along delicate lashes reverently before he cups your cheek. His irises flicker over your features, a hurricane of unrecognizable emotions flashing through his face.

“I wish,” he begins, pulling you tighter against him, careful to not smush you under his comforting weight, “that I get a little more of you every year. I wish for gravity to always bring me back home to you so I can see you by my side every day.”

Silence follows his words, the air growing thick between you both. Caleb looks down at you with an expression that can only be described as love, holding his breath for your response. He isn’t uncomfortable with you, far from it, but he’s a man afraid of being weak — vulnerable to the one nestled so deeply in his heart. Even with simple colds and illnesses, he hides away from you, so how can he reveal such a profound, selfish desire that constantly consumes his mind?

“Will you grant me that?” He asks, voice low and soft like he’s afraid that you’ll turn him away, “Can you grant me my selfish desires?”

A tempered heat simmers between your bodies before you let out a quiet laugh, not amused nor mocking, just one of happiness to mirror the ripples of love in your heart. It’s moments like these when you realize your Caleb isn’t as invincible as you always conceived him to be. He’s just a man who loves you dearly so.

“Okay, Caleb. Then no matter what happens, let’s always find our way back to each other.” You run your finger over his cheeks, trailing down until your palm finds his beating heart, thumping reassuringly against your skin. “Let’s be selfish together.”

The finality of your words, assured and strong, soothes the turmoil in his soul. Caleb brings your hand to his lips, lavishing a kiss on every delicate finger, each receiving a segment of his unending love for you.

“I’ll always find my way home to you.”

He’s certain now. He’s certain that gravity will always pull him back to you, if not, he’ll crawl through heaven and earth to hold your hand once more.

Happy birthday, Caleb. May gravity always bring you home <3

#crescent.creates #c.caleb #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x reader smut #caleb smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader #lnds #lads #happy birthday caleb <3

211 notes · View notes

iamthatonefangirl · 1 day ago

Text

rewind - nsfw bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.3k based on an ask received in dms. disclaimer: depictions of depression, PTSD, trauma, psychiatric drugs, mental institutions, guns, violence, gore, war. graphic mentions but no occurrences of suicide, self-harm, and domestic violence. a/n: this one ripped my fucking heart out to write... this is the first time I've ever cried writing a fic.

~~~

Bucky was a tortured soul.

the turn of events that had occurred in his lifetime were quite unlike those anyone had ever experienced before.

not only was he permanently branded by the mental and physical subjugation he'd endured for 70 years, but he was entirely alone in his experiences.

he could talk to Steve. he could talk to fellow veterans. he could talk to his therapist.

he could talk to you.

but no one could ever truly understand him.

~~~

the relationship you had with Bucky Barnes was beautifully tragic.

before you even met him, you knew who he was and what he had been through. you knew he was simply a product of the experiences he'd been through; what happened wasn't his fault. he was most certainly not the monster he saw himself as.

you had always done whatever you possibly could to ease his struggles. holding him through the nightmares, and the panic attacks, and the weeks on end he spent in bed when he couldn't force himself to get up.

you were there for him, always. you loved him with every cell in your body. you silently vowed to him and to yourself that you would never do anything to hurt him. ever.

you loved him so much that you would never walk away, even in his darkest moments.

you would be his rock for the rest of eternity.

~~~

he truly loved you the same way you loved him.

he wanted to be enough for you. he wanted to be the man you deserved.

for years, he tried. he tried to do better, to be more present, to let you rely on him.

he wanted to be able to catch you if you fell.

except he was the one who continued to trip, stumble, and fall, time after time. never once did you fail to catch him and hold him close when that happened.

deep in his soul, he loved you. he fought himself for not being more, better. he was the man in this relationship. he was supposed to take care of you.

for how badly he wanted to be more for you, he never could.

~~~

if you had known when you got together that you would be carrying all the emotional weight for both him and yourself, it wouldn't change a thing. you'd have done it all the exact same.

he was simply a man trapped inside his own head, bound by the weights of his past.

he'd tried therapy, and a million different medication changes. you stood beside him for every dosage change, every withdrawal symptom, all of it.

"something's wrong, baby," he once told you, looking at the way his hands shook, unable to control the tremors. "I'm not myself. I don't... something is wrong."

his voice was frantic, terrified of what was happening to his body and mind. he looked at you with a wild look in his eyes, bloodshot unlike you'd ever seen, tears pooling.

"I feel crazy. like nothing even hydra could do," he admitted to you in that moment. "I've never felt so disconnected from my own mind."

that was a monumental confession for him to be making given his history. you almost didn't know how to respond to it, unsure how to help, what the hell you were supposed to say.

"you're coming off the medicine, baby. it's okay. this is supposed to happen," you tried to reassure him, joining him on the wrinkled bedsheets that he sat atop. you reached out a hand to pet his hair back, trying to summon your own courage as you told him with a shaky voice, "you'll get through this."

he shook his head violently, burying his head in his hands, trying to get the words out. "I won't, I won't," he cried to you. "what if I hurt you? what if..."

you took a pause. normally, that wouldn't be a concern.

but he was in crisis.

"baby, are you thinking about hurting me or yourself right now?" you whispered to him.

you weren't afraid of what he could do to you. you didn't flinch, or make to walk away from him. you didn't care if he swung at you because you know that your Bucky would never mean to hurt you.

he paused, not responding, sniffling as the tears fell. he whined low in his throat, trying to hold on for dear life.

"myself," he whispered before sobbing out, "please help me."

that was the first time Bucky ended up in the psychiatric hospital.

~~~

over the years, you saw how he tried. he was so devoted to making the effort to be there for you.

you saw how even on the bad days, he forced himself out of bed to pick up so you could come home to a clean house.

it always ended with him crashing, another week of days even darker following.

he forced himself to leave so he could buy groceries to try and make you dinner, something simple, so you wouldn't have to do it when you got off work.

it always ended with him calling you, having a panic attack, forcing you to leave the office in the middle of the day to go pick him up.

you hated everything he'd been through. you hated that hydra had done this to such a man of great integrity, to a man with such a beautiful heart and a pure soul.

you wanted only the best for him, so you always tried to be the best for him.

he loved you. he appreciated everything you did for him.

you knew he spent most of his time thinking he was a burden to you, even though you tried with all your efforts to convince him that it wasn't true, that you truly wanted to take care of him.

it only got worse over the years as the idea settled into his mind that he could never get better, that he could never be what he wanted to be for you.

although he never vocalized those fears, you watched carefully. you saw how the faith and hope he once had, even in his depression, had slowly crumbled. you watched as he became even more detached from himself, from you, from reality.

you couldn't bear to see him continue to deteriorate. you couldn't bear to watch the inevitable happen.

you couldn't bear to come home one day and find him lying in a pool of his own blood, gun in hand, a hole in the side of his head.

so you made the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life.

~~~

the day came.

you got out of bed at the usual hour, got yourself ready as though you were going to work, and resisted the urge to cry.

normally, you didn't wake him up in the mornings. you thought it best to let him sleep.

you woke him up this time.

"hey, baby," you whispered, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, rubbing his shoulder carefully. "wake up."

he groaned, stirring from his slumber, rubbing his eyes before opening them to look at you.

"g'morning," he whispered to you, "what's going on?"

"I'm going to work," you lied, feeling the knot in your throat get worse, making it difficult to speak. "I wanted to let you know that I'm leaving. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. I hope you have a good day," he told you. you leaned in to give him a kiss, and you savored the moment for as long as you could.

you wanted to cave. to not do this.

with every ounce of strength in your body, you stood from the bed, and walked to the bedroom door.

"maybe when you get home this evening, we can go for a walk?" he offered as you stood in the doorway. "I think I'll feel up to it."

"yeah, baby," you smiled at him sadly, "we can do that."

you stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

you couldn't stop the tears as they fell down your face as you walked out of the house, walked away from the love of your life, never to see him again. every ounce of your being told you to turn around, to not do this, to be selfish.

but you had to do this for him.

you were going to change history.

that's how you ended up standing on the Quantum Platform in the Avengers' compound, destination: October, 1944. four months before the accident.

you stood there, trying to decide if this was the right thing to do. if you were absolutely sure about this. your life would never be the same.

but what's more important?

his life would never be the same.

and that's all it took for you to tell Bruce Banner to hit the button to send you back in time.

in hindsight, you probably should have had a more detailed plan. there were a million logistics you hadn't worked out, like the fact that you had no identity. you didn't exist. your dollar bills would be out of date, if anyone looked too closely.

it didn't matter. you would get by, somehow.

you had a mission to complete.

~~~

apparently, it's a lot easier to get a job as a field nurse in the army in the 1940s than you think it would be.

with a desperate need for all hands on deck, they took your word when you said you had all the necessary qualifications without actually having to provide proof.

that was the hardest part, and somehow? it managed to be a breeze.

now all you had to do was get close to Bucky. figure out a way to convince him not to get on that damned train, to keep him from getting recaptured by hydra.

that's how you found yourself in the middle of a war you'd only ever heard about in history books, in the tales that you'd heard from Bucky and Steve.

you were hired and put to work immediately. you learned the ropes fairly quickly, how to triage the worst of the worst and how to quickly assess a patient in the terrible conditions of the battlefield.

you saw gore and violence like you'd never seen before. you battled with your stomach every day, trying not to vomit at the blood, and the smells of dying bodies.

nothing can prepare anyone for this.

you can't even imagine being one of the men getting shot at. the men doing the shooting. being able to inflict such violence...

you thought about your Bucky back home. your version of Bucky in the modern day. no wonder he struggled so much, every day of his life, trying to come to terms with all the murders he'd unwillingly committed as the Winter Soldier.

you were at wartime now, sure. but committing such offenses against innocent people, in times and in countries not at war?

your heart broke for your Bucky.

~~~

in the medical tents, you heard rumors of the brilliant Captain America and the daring Sergeant James B. Barnes.

your baby. your Bucky.

you heard of how Steve Rogers had saved him from hydra a year prior, and how they'd been a leading force in battle to put an end to the war.

you knew more of this story than any of the rumors would say. you'd heard it firsthand from Steve and Bucky themselves 80 years from now.

you had to carefully consider every word that came out of your mouth. you couldn't jeopardize yourself or your mission by accidentally speaking on things that hadn't happened yet.

you kept your conversations with co-workers to a minimum, enough to be friendly, but cautious. careful.

you missed your life. you missed your Bucky.

you had to tell yourself your Bucky was already gone.

sure, you'd been here weeks already. but at home, for your Bucky? you'd only just left the house that morning.

you had a mission to make sure he didn't get on that damn train come January, and you couldn't sit around and wait any longer. so far you'd just been learning the job and learning how to exist in a time of widespread crisis.

you had to make a move.

~~~

so maybe you did have the advantage of knowing that Bucky would be attracted to you. he is 80 years from now, after all.

when he came into your tent one day in need of stitches on his arm for a grazed bullet, every woman flocked around him, trying to be the one to tend to the attractive young Sergeant who had survived and returned from being a prisoner of war.

you took a step back, trying not to crowd him like everyone else, instead hoping he would meet your gaze from across the room.

that's how you'd met your Bucky.

fuck, you missed him.

he'd always told you that when he saw you, it was love at first sight. he knew you were the one for him, forever and always. he reiterated to you constantly that even in the 40s, he'd absolutely adore you.

your Bucky was right.

the instant you caught Sergeant Barnes' gaze from across the way, his face perked up, and he flashed you a charismatic smirk that replaced the frown that had previously decorated his face.

he stood from the cot where he sat and pushed through the crowd of nurses in front of him to get to you.

you knew what was coming. he would come up to you, say something enchanting, and tell you that you were the prettiest nurse here. it had to be you that would patch up his arm.

that's not what happened at all.

"have we met before?" he asked you, holding a patch of gauze to his bleeding arm. he was smiling, and yet, the look in his eyes was one of confusion. "because... I feel like I know you."

those words shocked you, surprising you in every fiber of your being.

"no," you assured him, "we haven't met. I'm new here."

you so badly wanted to tell him, yes, baby, you know me. one day you'll know me. I love you.

you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug.

you proceeded to give him the same fake name you'd given your employers and co-workers.

"really?" he'd asked, as though in disbelief.

"yeah, really. that's my name," you told him sharply. "need me to stitch your arm?" you offered, reaching for the gauze he was holding, now bled-through.

"yes, please," he said, sitting down on the nearest cot. as you sat on a stool next to him and began to assess the cut, you sat in silence until he spoke.

"your name doesn't suit you," he began.

"that is... incredibly rude of you," you responded with an amused laugh. you might have been offended if he wasn't entirely correct in his assumption.

"I didn't mean it like that, doll, I apologize," he tried to assure you.

he had no idea what you knew. the fact that something in him could sense that something was off...

...your soft little heart took it as a sign that you were soulmates. that Bucky really did know you, through and through.

he had no idea how badly you just wanted to kiss him right now, how badly you wanted to fold him up and put him in your pocket just to keep him safe forever.

"I'm sorry, this is going to sting," you warned him as you began to stitch the skin together.

he hissed at the pain, but didn't flinch, simply letting you do your job.

you looked closely at the cut, and it pained you. "damnit, Bucky, how the hell did you do this..." you whispered to yourself, not intended for him to hear.

"Bucky? wow, most of the nurses here call me Sergeant Barnes," he teased at you.

you didn't have the time to think about how there was no way he could've heard you. you'd spoken so quietly, the only way he could've heard is if hydra had already...

"I'm very sorry, sir," you backtracked. you had to remember your place, remember the rules around here. right now, you worked for him, in some capacity. he wasn't your boyfriend, and you weren't his girlfriend.

not here. not now.

"don't worry, doll, my name sounds awfully pretty coming off your lips," he smirked.

there's the Bucky you anticipated meeting in the 1940s. the man your Bucky had always told you he was.

"I was a player, I guess you could say, yeah... but I promise, I wasn't an asshole. I never treated a woman with anything less than the utmost respect. it was a different time, I know. but I promise, baby, I wasn't an asshole."

you heard those words running through your head as you sat with this version of Bucky you'd never seen before.

sure, the Sergeant had been through unimaginable things and had already been taken and tortured by hydra once.

but his soul wasn't broken. he still had passion, fervor, hope to make a difference, to put an end to the violence and go home. his mind hadn't yet been overrun by the demons that your Bucky never seemed to be able to escape.

you missed your Bucky dearly. but something about seeing this Bucky, meeting him, if only for a few minutes healed something in you. it healed a part of you that needed to know that Bucky had once known some type of peace, even if he'd never be able to find it again.

you quickly patched him up and sent him on his way before you could say or do anything stupid, like planting your lips on his, or begging him to run away with you and never look back.

he promised he'd come back to see you, the mysterious nurse he felt he'd met in another life before, the one who wasn't afraid to call him by his name.

and lucky for your plan and your longing heart, he followed through on that promise.

~~~

he came to visit you whenever he could, typically a few times in a week. way more often than most soldiers visit the medical tents.

"but doll, I've got this terrible headache... you got any suggestions for me?" he asked you as he followed you around the tent, winking at you as he said it.

it made you blush.

"my, my, Sergeant. real appropriate," you would tease him.

"what happened to calling me Bucky, sweetheart?"

~~~

"can you look at my arm? make sure it's healing okay?" he would ask you, even when it was already completely healed, a lot faster than any other soldier normally did...

you had to hide your smile as you appeased him, looking at his arm, pretending to carefully inspect it just so you had an excuse to touch him.

"your arm is fine, Sergeant," you assured him before ripping your hands away as though he'd just burned you.

"come on, baby, call me Bucky."

~~~

you were only a girl.

and you were madly in love with this other version of Bucky, just the same as you were with your own Bucky.

every night as you slept, it still hurt to think about your Bucky back home. you'd never see him again, if all went to plan. he wouldn't be forced to live until your time. he wouldn't be subjected to the tortures that would forever haunt him.

but as you thought about how hurt your own Bucky was, and saw this shining, gleaming version of him, you knew you owed it to him to make sure hydra never happened.

not long after he began flirting with you, you gave in. of course you were in love with him, this entire mission was for him. but you had to pursue him now in the hopes that you could somehow convince him not to get on that train.

~~~

"when do you get off work, doll?" he would question as he trailed you once more like a lost puppy. "I'd love to get a drink with you."

"I'm on call 24 hours a day, Bucky," you began to protest, but you stopped in your tracks suddenly to turn to speak directly to him. you weren't actually about to turn him down. "but maybe when things die down, I can have that drink with you."

you called it drinks.

what it really was?

~~~

his hands clasped themselves around your waist, pulling you against him as he kissed you with the passion of a young man, of a soldier truly infatuated with the beautiful nurse he now held in his arms.

you held him equally as tight, your eyes shut to hide the pained desperation in them. how badly you missed your Bucky. how much you loved the man holding you now.

he backed you against the wooden door, shut and locked so you couldn't be bothered.

"you're so gorgeous," he whispered in your ear as his hands travelled down to your hips, his mouth finding the soft skin of your neck as he began to nip and suck marks on your flesh. "so perfect."

you were paralyzed with how needy you felt. how badly you wanted to feel Bucky, how badly you wanted him to hold you and never let go.

you don't even know the last time you and your Bucky had sex.

it didn't matter. you loved him.

but it felt so good when this Bucky held you, kissed you like you were something worth desiring. reminding you that you could be wanted like this. that deep down, your Bucky did want you like this.

"Bucky, please," you whined out softly. you loved the feeling of him being on you, of his hands gently pushing up under your skirt, pulling and tugging at your uniform.

as his knee came to press between your legs, pushing closer, higher, pressing up against you...

"fuck," you whined, voice cracking, sounding so terribly desperate.

"gonna let me touch you?" he asked you, moaning out the fake name you'd given him.

it suddenly made you feel like shit. you didn't want him to think you were this other person, you wanted him to know you.

first, you had to be sure.

"is this... a one-off?" you asked him quietly, fighting against every muscle in your body telling you to grind your hips down against his thigh, the pressure so perfect against you.

"nah, doll. gonna take you home. make you mine forever. fuckin' knock you up and marry you," he groaned out, reaching for his jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it to the ground before starting on his shirt.

you forgot how quickly they moved when it came to marriage back in these days, so you were shocked how forward he was being. if you were in the modern day, in your day, you'd think it was a ruse to get you to let him fuck you.

this wasn't the modern day, and this wasn't a ruse.

especially because you knew your Bucky. he would never make that promise if he didn't mean it.

a small sound escaped your throat at the sound of his words. you'd happily let him do all of that, and more.

you hurriedly corrected the fake name he kept groaning in your ear.

you wondered if he would be upset, if he would berate you for lying to him.

he didn't stop his motions as he untucked his shirt, practically ripping the buttons apart, and you watched as he smirked at the realization. "that's more like it," he told you, testing out your name on his lips. "much more fitting."

"playing hard to get, were you?" he teased, hands ripping at the buttons of your uniform now.

"something like that," you whispered as his leg began to move between your legs. "fuck."

soon, both your uniforms ended up on the floor, and he tugged you with him to lay you down on his bunk. he petted your hair out of your face as he eyed you laying under him, looking you up and down, taking in the sight of you in nothing but your undergarments.

you looked right into his eyes and you saw your Bucky. as though he was the one hovering over you, the one about to take you apart and make love to you so perfectly you'd go speechless.

"gonna let me make an honest woman out of you after all this?" he asked. "hmm? once the war is said and done?"

you couldn't stop yourself.

you said yes.

even though you knew you would be breaking his heart, knew that once you stopped him from getting on that train, you couldn't stay. you had to go home.

you said yes because you could picture it. you could picture a life where you stayed with this Bucky, where you got to make this Bucky happy. where you could give him the life he truly deserved.

you said yes because you needed him to believe it. you needed him to want you, to love you, to see a future with you so that he would listen to you. so that he would have a reason to not get on that train.

"yes, Bucky. yes. absolutely, yes. I'll be yours forever."

~~~

the course of the next two months went by way too fast.

every waking moment you could, you spent with Bucky. every minute you weren't working and he wasn't away, you sought him out.

you spent soft nights with him. you'd curl up together in the post-sex haze, enjoying just being together.

you were so happy to see him happy. to actually make him happy.

you had to remind yourself that more than that, you were here to make sure he could remain at peace. you were going to break his heart soon enough, no matter how badly you didn't want to. no matter how badly you wanted to stay with him and not return to a life where your Bucky wouldn't be there.

your Bucky.

your bed would be empty. your heart would be empty.

but you were doing this for him.

so as you whispered soft I love yous to one another, you savored every second of it.

when the holiday season came around, you weren't offered any time off. you were too new, and wartime didn't stop just because of the holiday. it's not like you had any family waiting around for you in this day and age. just Bucky.

Bucky was an absolute angel, pulling together whatever he could to make you a halfway decent homemade meal with half-burnt candles and the nicest alcohol, although still shitty, that he managed to find.

your heart ripped right open at the sight. it was small, and dilapidated, but it was yours. he'd poured his whole heart and soul into giving you what little he could to make you happy.

how the hell were you supposed to leave him?

~~~

after the first of the year, Bucky approached you and told you about the new mission they would be taking on: a mission to put an end to the war. to take down hydra for good.

"I won't be gone for more than a few days, doll, just like normal. we'll be in and out, and then I'll come back to you. I'll take you home and I'll marry you. I promise," he told you.

your heart fell to your stomach. this was it. everything you'd come here for, everything you'd done to promise him a future beyond the war. you had to pray it meant more to him than this mission.

"baby, I don't think this is a good idea," you tried to tell him. "there's so many other people that can go. why don't you stay with me?"

you tried not to let your nerves show too much. you couldn't let him know that you knew what was coming, that the future he faced if he did this would be nothing short of torment.

"why wouldn't I go?" he responded to you, taken aback by your suggestion. in all this time, you'd never fought him on leaving. he had a job to do, and you knew that. you promised you'd always be there when he came back.

"I just... I don't want you to," you tried to reason with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him in close. he resisted your attempts, stepping backwards, out of your reach.

"this mission is it. this will put an end to the war, once and for all. no more fighting, no more violence. no more hydra," he argued. you knew he was starting to get upset, confused as to why you were acting this way.

"but-" you began, but he wasn't having it.

"you know I have an obligation to do this. to my fellow soldiers, to the country, to Steve, goddamnit," he fought back. "why don't you want me to go? do you think I'm not capable? are you worried that once the war is over, I'll leave you? I promise you, baby, I'm going to come back and marry you. I meant it from the start. I love you, and I'll never stop. but I have to do this."

your heart sunk.

you see his future. you see how it's all going to play out and how it will follow him for the rest of his life.

he cannot go.

"Bucky, no. you can't go, okay? why can't you just trust me?" you tried.

"I do trust you, but this is important. the fate of the world depends on me!" he snapped back at you, voice straining. you caught the look in his eyes, a part of him hurt that you could even suggest that he not do this, that he doesn't see this through. "this is what we've been fighting for for so long! it can't be for nothing!"

"am I not enough for you?" you snap back at him. you know it's childish, and manipulative. but you have to do whatever you can to convince him.

"goddamnit, you know that you're more than enough for me. but I have a higher purpose that I have to follow-"

"-a higher purpose? are you fucking kidding me? you-"

"-I have to go! I have to put the job above everything-"

"-you wanna fucking talk higher purpose, Bucky? then let's talk higher purpose."

that finally caught his attention.

"what are you talking about?" he questioned, voice dropping low.

"Bucky, I'm pregnant!"

~~~

as you walk back up the steps to your apartment, you're in a daze.

your thoughts aren't your own. your emotions are conflicted, a million different questions running through your mind.

your mind doesn't even pay any notice to the facets of the modern world that you've missed out on for the last four months.

because you're back. you're home. absolutely nothing has changed in your world, lest the passing of a few hours.

you're what's changed. the war, the tragedy, the love you had with Bucky back then.

the only real changes are in your own mind.

as you step up to the welcome mat in front of your door, not a single tear falls from your eye. you're far too distracted, far too stuck in your head as you unlock the door to your apartment.

you step inside and shut the door behind you like it means nothing to finally be home.

just as the rest of the world, nothing here has changed. everything is exactly where you left it.

you think about everything you've been through. everything you've done, all with the goal of saving the love of your life.

you loved him with your whole heart.

you lied to him, manipulated him, gaslit him. you told yourself it was what needed to be done, even thought it hurt you. you did what you had to do to protect him.

you told him you were going to stay. that you would marry him. that you were going to have his child.

all of it, a lie.

you don't know where you drop your keys, or your bag. you feel uncomfortable in the clothes you're wearing, the same ones you'd left the apartment in four months ago.

no. four hours ago.

the clothes you'd last seen your Bucky in. the clothes you'd last kissed and held your Bucky in.

you're emotionless as you walk through the apartment and head right for the bedroom, opening the door and flicking on the lights.

"you're home early," you hear, a soft smile on his face as he sits up in the bed. "I think I still feel up to going out, if you are."

your eyes meet his, and even through the fog of your mind, you find yourself tearing up.

"I told you I was pregnant," you begin, devoid of any feeling as you speak. his head tilts up to look at you head-on, his eyes widening. "and you still got on the train."

his jaw drops, sharply inhaling, eyes blinking as he processes the words you're saying.

"why the hell did you still get on the train?" you ask him, and you can't stop the way the tears fall from your eyes. your body begins to shake, sobs wracking through you. "you told me you loved me. that you would marry me. and you still fucking left."

and then he jumps up from the bed, running to you.

"shit, baby, please don't cry," he tries to tell you. the look on his face is one of complete and utter shock, at the discovery that it finally happened. shocked at seeing you cry.

you don't know the last time you let yourself cry in front of your Bucky. you were always too scared to let him see you upset, that it would trigger something in him, that it would make him worse somehow.

right now, it doesn't fucking matter.

"why the hell would you do that?" you yell at him, smacking his arm and stepping back from him. "was I not enough for you?"

"baby, no, of course you were enough for me. you still are. I love you, but I had to-"

"you had to go and get yourself fucking captured! you knew you could've died on that mission, and you effectively did! you got on the train thinking you had gotten me pregnant, knowing that you could've died, or gotten captured again!" you scream at him. "why would you do that?"

"I had to!" he yells back at you. "don't you think I fucking wanted to stay with you? don't you think I wasn't tormented for years after I escaped hydra at the thought that I had a child I never got to know? that I fucking left you and my child behind?"

you haven't heard him this loud, this passionate, this lively in years.

"and then I met you for the second time, in this day and age, and I was so fucking confused! so I went digging. the name you gave me? the fake one and your real one? neither of those women existed back then. only you, now, did. I pieced it all together."

"then why didn't you tell me?" you cry. you feel like you're being ripped apart, torn at the seams. everything you ever knew seems like it's coming crashing down around you. "why didn't you tell me any of this? you knew I was going to go back and try and save you, and you didn't stop me!"

"because I loved you, even back then," he tells you, voice soft, pleading. "I love you. you finally got to see that once upon a time, I was more than this fucked up, broken person. that's what I wanted for you, for both of us."

you watch his own eyes grow red and wet with tears as he speaks to you.

"I wanted you to be able to see me."

"Bucky, I see you," you plead with him, grabbing at his hands, his arms, his shoulders, anything to make him feel real. "I love who you are now. I just wanted to protect you from ever having to go through what you did."

"so you didn't just want to get rid of me?" he whispers. "because all this time, I've been waiting. waiting for the morning that I don't wake up, because I might have actually listened to you. when suddenly hydra never happened, and I didn't exist anymore."

"I was not trying to get rid of you. I missed you so much," you plead with him, stepping even closer, holding his face in your hands. "but I see how much hurt you go through. I wanted to protect you from it."

you both take a pause for a minute as you gather your thoughts.

"why did you still get on the train?" you inquire.

"I don't know," is all he says back. "I really don't. but please don't be mad at me, baby, please."

how the hell could you ever be mad at him?

"I'm not mad, baby. I'm happy you're still here," you whisper, looking into his eyes, smiling through your tears. "I don't want to wake up without you by my side."

"even if I can't be who I was back then?" he asks, voice broken. "even though I'm a lost cause?"

"I don't care. you're everything to me. don't you dare say you're a lost cause, because you're not. I love you, and I'll spend the rest of my life doing anything I can to help you find peace."

as he wraps his arms around you, crying softly into your shoulder, you wonder if what you're feeling is selfish. if it's selfish of you that you're happy he's still here. if it's selfish that a part of you is almost glad everything worked out the way it did.

because you love every version of Bucky.

but for you, losing your Bucky would have been a fate worse than death.

~~~

rewind epilogue

masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list part 1: (send an ask or dm to be removed)

@starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @blaineandergel @flow33didontsmoke @iiamlynn @belovedmoony @tellybearryyyy @doilooklikeagiveafrack @analovesmarvel @izzy698 @ketchumid24 @annabethboleyn @luv4koo @buckyseternaldoll @planetzeidy @thegirlfatherr @cieraboobear @wint3rbarnes @quinnofdrama @jeannie-beannie @buckysslut @peaceinourtime82 @poiscntree @sooberrt @yaboyguzma69 @dragonsoverall @barnesonly @drxies @morgan-getty

151 notes · View notes

izumiphoenix · 2 days ago

Text

Silenced No More

For a while now, I really wanted to write a post about how Astarion loves to talk: how witty and playful he is, always ready with a joke or clever remark. And I wanted it to be a positive post, to be honest. But with Astarion, even such a lighthearted topic is tied to his past, especially the way he was silenced for so long.

Of course, it’s not just Astarion – all the companions enjoy talking, and who wouldn’t, when someone’s genuinely listening? Gale shares his knowledge at every turn, Shadowheart is full of sarcasm, and Lae’zel eagerly educates you on Gith culture. But with Astarion, it feels especially touching: he hides so much behind a mask, and yet he still clearly loves to talk.

Even Gale wasn’t so open to conversations at first.

Astarion: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale? Gale: Uhm... Sure. In silence.

Astarion opens up unexpectedly fast and talks about his past so early on – it is what completely disarmed me when I played for the first time.

He longs to be known, because he longs to be. I’ve touched on this in other posts, so I won’t go deep into it here, but I also think it’s just part of who he is. Talking is how he connects to the world. How he shows he exists.

There are even gameplay moments where his approval shifts based on humor, and he often engages in banter with the player character – as long as they understand when it is appropriate or not.

And it’s not just that he simply wants to talk – he enjoys the exchange, but also appreciates being heard and taken seriously, as someone who matters.

But then, there’s Cazador.

There’s a moment during their confrontation when he mocks Astarion for being talkative in the past. From Astarion’s reaction, I get the sense that this wasn’t a single insult – it was something he used to hear often. That his voice, his chatter, his attempts to express himself were something Cazador used against him.

Cazador Szarr: No, you always had a gift for words.

Cazador Szarr: I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…

Astarion: No! Shut up!

(Side note: I think they’ve changed this moment a little bit, because I clearly remember there was a close-up to your character right after Astarion’s exclamation. It showed them maybe taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. And that exact moment made me feel like they realized at that moment just how hard Astarion was fighting not to fall back into that old dynamic, not to let Cazador’s influence fill his heart again. And how difficult it was to stay grounded for him in that moment. Sorry for being sidetracked!)

And then there’s something else I've only discovered recently. I didn't even encounter that dialogue option in Act 3, where Astarion could tell you about the time he was locked in a tomb for a year. I only found this out from Tumblr. But this conversation I've seen for the first time, and it shook me a bit.

If your character tries to convince Astarion to accept the Astral-Touched tadpole, you can use illithid powers to search his mind for his worst memory that brings him “the purest terror.”

As you pick apart his mind, you discover his worst memory. That which brings him the purest terror.

Complete solitude after being disobedient. Sealed. Buried alive. Voiceless. Will this be forever?

A year of horror. Then the release. He will never disobey again.

The idea of being sealed away in total darkness, not knowing if or when you'll be released, is an unimaginable horror. That moment hit me so hard. But these words – complete solitude, voiceless – stood out the most.

Cazador knew exactly how to punish him. He stripped away not just Astarion’s freedom, but his voice – his ability to reach the outside world, to be acknowledged. That darkness wasn’t just physical – it was silence, helplessness, isolation.

It is just so painful and infuriating to think about how Astarion was treated, how Cazador always tried to silence him. And it makes it even more precious that Astarion can finally speak freely now. It must feel liberating for him.

When you show him even a little care, he tells you everything. He jokes, he flirts, he invites you to compare your companion's blood and the many ways one might choose to die. He stumbles back into the camp after an intoxicating victory to tell you all about it (and this deserves a whole post, hopefully soon!). He never seems to hesitate to voice a controversial opinion, even knowing others might not approve.

He is still guarded, still performing, but I imagine it still meant so much for him if you listen – not tolerate, dismiss or shut him down, but genuinely listen to what he has to say, laugh at his jokes, and pay attention to his words.

There’s another moment that keeps haunting my mind – if you convince him to sleep with you even after his confession in Act 2, this is what he says:

Astarion: It's almost funny. This is all a game to you, isn't it? No matter what I say, it doesn't matter. Not if you get what you want.

It is such a heartbreaking moment. He tried so hard to communicate: it’s not easy to talk about his past, his vulnerabilities, but every time he chooses to say it, because he wants to connect with you. And when he’s ignored like that, it confirms his worst fear – that what he says, what he feels, doesn’t matter. That no one is really listening.

But even in that pain, he finds a new resolve to say no. He learns to protect himself.

I love how much he talks. I really do. During my second playthrough with a new Tav, Thalyn, I was leaving Astarion at camp (to avoid temptation haha). And honestly, it felt like that game lost so much of its charm for me. I’m biased, of course, but his comments and jokes always provided a much-needed relief during stressful times of the first playthrough and waiting for what Astarion has to say about this or that became something I always anticipated.

Eventually, I missed my first Tav, Roanael, her team, and Astarion so much… I dropped that playthrough at the beginning of Act 3 and went back to rerun the first one (no regrets!)

I just hope that now, in his radiant future, no one will ever silence him again.

And maybe he will learn about another kind of silence – warm and gentle, the one that doesn’t need to be filled. When you can just be with someone and already be heard.

#I absolutely adore this wonderful chatterbox <3 #and don’t even get me started on Neil Newbon’s voice #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur’s gate 3 screenshots #bg3 screenshots #astarion meta #astarion analysis #baldur's gate 3 astarion

193 notes · View notes

blackdawn70631 · 3 days ago

Text

Warning: Suggestive content below. Yautja x Reader

His might overpowers your kicking and struggling. He bears down on your ankle with only his hand, and he hoists you towards his haunches, drawing you to him like the ensnared animal you are.

You feel something hard press between your legs, and you swallow just the same, for the bone dressage he wore prior was now gone. There is overwhelming heat on your thighs, and he cackles a throaty hum, vibrating himself along your most tender areas.

You cringe, trying to hold yourself at bay. You don't want to react. He loves it when there's a reaction. You know this because you've heard the other’s soul-chilling shrills through the cell walls. But this time, this time you are in his private shuttle…alone.

He laughs a horrible chortle. A sound that haunts your nightmares. Nightmares that seemed to have lasted a hundred years.

You look up, catching a glimpse of the hell that awaits you with splitting eagerness. You hope he'll kill you now and not later…You are frightened beyond every known terror you have ever faced for what you suspect is about to happen.

His gargantuan claws wrap tightly around your jugular, his intention to not release you even as you gurgle through the scaly grasp. Your tears stream down your bruised cheeks, and you mutter a prayer -

Please, let me die.

The drawing took close to a darn week because of work. More could have been done, but I wanted to get this thing out of the way. Kudos to @supernova for double-checking my grammar. Border courtesy of @sinisterexaggerator

#predator #yautja #artists on tumblr #art #monsters #digital art #scifi #yautja x reader

164 notes · View notes

prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue · 15 hours ago

Note

First of all I wanted to say I love ur writing style.

What I wanted to ask is I came across a prompt in ur asks from someone about batfam x neglected reader which u also told u would write.

I just want to know when u might write it because genuinely I loved the prompt and love to read it.

The link of the post is https://www.tumblr.com/prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue/781014256622714880/hi-i-have-a-batfam-x-neglected-reader-angst?source=share

hihi ! Sorry took so long to reply , I had a huge authors block and an unsolicited break (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

For some reason it won't let me access the link but if I remember properly it was this ask 🎀

rushed ; cursing ; idk man , edit in honor pof fathers day lol

january marked a month of hope and properity , a month of new beginnigs , a shed of the old in many cultures. but to y/n wayne it marked the month of brutality . she always knew her family loathed her .

wasnt of of spite , wasnt of of hatred , wasnt out of anything but pure neglect. in comparison to most of her siblings , y/n wayne actaully had a decent public appearance . she did not have have a messy social lofe like her father , frequent videos of him in nught clubs glaroe , her older brother dick who had several articles critiquing tje manner he cheated on his wife , kori the night before their wedding or jason's plathera of tabliods talking about his messy death.

cassandra and stephanie are not saints either - in fact stephanie runs a controversial podcast alongside cass where they actively debated with other celebrities - often known as the duo whom likes to instigate things. damian wayne does not have a pretty track record either - he is often wvery week circulating the tabloids becuase news of him violently beating up another kid at school got surfaced.

tim is not safe either - you think tech genous , prodigy would keep his messy relationships under the wraps would you ? safe to say y/n wayne and duke thomas are the only two wayne family memebers with a decent background.

duke barely posts , but y/n wayne is a known lawyer , graudated from Harvard law , top of her class , known as a legend who passed her bar on her first try since 1990's. not to mention she also graduated from harvard medicine and was already runnkng her own firm , class president and president for their student council and was captain of harvard girl's volleyball team.

y/n wayne is the girl every socilaite talls about , the girl your parents compare you too , the girl everyone wants to be , the perfect embodiment of a wayne . yet despite how good she is , her family would never like her , except for alfred.

alfred pennyworth would never say he had favorites to anyone in the family who asks him in jest but it does not take a person with a brain to figure out it is y/n wayne . the man , despite his old age would personally drive himself to harvard's campus and spend the weekend with name in her apartment that he himself bought for her because why woukd his favoritr child love in a dormitory ?

the man personally meal prep a week's worth of food just for her - feigning that his baby shouldn't have to worry about meaningless work she has more important things at hand. said man attends all her events , parent meetings , her school seminars , all her speeches - he personally records for himself , graduations , personally attended her first clinic opening , met her first girlfriend in highschool , literally goes dress shopping to spa and makeup appointment becaude his baby just got her nails done and has a big gala to attend to why should she worry about driving when he can ?

basically y/n wayne is that man's pride and joy , if anyone walks up to this man and asks about any of the wayne children he'd give a small polote , " they're doing alright " but ask him about y/n wayne ?? that man is already pulling out his phone to show his lockscreen of him and y/n at a recent gala where she gave an opening speech and he will talk your head off about her .

safe to say y/n wayne's life at home maybe depressing but alfred made up for it. flash forward to early morning , and the news are lighting up , ' y/n wayne caught holding a child in gotham square could this be a secret wayne child we don't know of ?'

alfred practically rolled his eyes when he saw those news - it wasn't public information but y/n along with her highschool girlfriend actively run an orphanage , the reasoning it wasn't public was because y/n wayne kept it under the wraps for the children's safety and wellbeing so her highschool girlfriend became the face of said orphanage and y/n was just a silent owner.

alfred rolls his eyes again before switching to another channel - he knows y/n wasn't waking up anytime soon because last night she not onmy had an emegency surgery and an inprompt to meeting with italian overseas investors - she did message him she had been called by gordon about taking in a child last night and he assunes that her and the child in the pictures.

alfred sets put the tableware as the other wayne members fillter in. bruce had am angry expression and everyone else was muttering amoug themselves , " how can she shame us like that ?" , " i know she was weird but i mean.." , " such an attention seeking whore i mean whe couldn't keep it in her pants ?" , " for fucks sake shes 16 - when I was 16 i would never do that shit ".

breakfast continued on just like that , everyone murmuring and gossiping staurday morning in silk pajamas except bruce whos taken to brooding more this morning. alfred had just finished washing up before going to finish up y/n's breakfast when she walked in.

she's dressed immaculately , red ysl heels and black channel pants and jacket along with a darl maroon shirt. she wears her gold accesories , her hair is open and free , makeup minimal but beautiful as she strolls in towards alfred.

y/n embracss alfred , has not even glanced at her family - she hasn't since she was a wee naive 11 year old. " morning pa " she greeted him. alfred embraces her back , " morning hun , work meeting ?" alfred asks and before y/n can even respond bruce angerily slams his hands against the table.

" I know such a disrespectful child like yoruself is not perading in my house when she was outside being a whore ! " bruce angerily exclaims as his eyes glare into her. y/n just stood there shocked and confused , " what are you even on about ?" she asks.

damian snared , " dont pretend your not a hooker y/n your disgrace is all over the news " . " yeah y/n have some fucking class " stephanie retroted. y/n just stood there and just looked at them , " listen - i don't know what the fuck crawled up your asses this morning but i am no hooker " y/n said defensively.

bruce laughed , " shut up y/n , you've alaways been a disappointment now ? now you've surpassed it". y/n glares at him - how dare he call her a disappointment when he is one ? " yn its all over gotham fucking news how you have a secret love child no one knows about - like for fuck sake name your 16 close youe damn legs " tim yells at her.

y/n just stands there shocked and angry , " go fuck yourself " she curses before walking out , alfred trailing after her. y/n just walked straight out before walking into her red proche and speeding out of the gateway , not even stopping for alfred.

alfred sighs in disappointment but he's also furious and walks back inside , body shaking as he stands before the rest of them. " IN WHAT WORLD GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TALK TO HER LIKE THAT ?" he yelled at bruce.

bruce hides his immediate shock but yells back , " SHES A 16 YEAT OLD WITH A BABY WHAT ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO ?" . alfred can practically feel the vein in his head popping

" YOUR DAMNED DAUGHTER IS 25 BRUCE , 25 AND WAS NEVER FUCKING PREGENANT " , alfred cursed back , enraged. bruce sat back , in both shock and embrassment and the others ? well the others can only open and cllse their mouth shut . " ..25..." jason murmured as if it's unbelievable . " yes your damn sister is 25 " alfred confirms , voice angry.

" THEN WHAT ABOUT THE KID ?" Stephanie yells back . alfred practically feels himself loose more braincells , " SHE FUCKING CO RUNS A DAMN ORPHANAGE SO SPEAKING SHE HAS MANY KIDS I'D FUCKING KNOW I MET THEM ALL " he shouted back.

alfred then walks off , grabbing a suitcase along with him. " wait where are you going -" dick asks as theh watch alfred haul the suitcase into the foyer , " i'm going to stay at y/n's " and walked out.

#dc universe #batfam #dcu #dc x reader #jason todd #damian wayne #platonic batfam #bruce wayne #batfam x y/n #batfam x neglected reader

103 notes · View notes

renadoesstuff · 2 days ago

Text

crawling back to you

where Chan comes home after months, only to find his beloved mad at him

noble's daughter reader X left-hand-man chan

genre - smut (MDNI)

tags - kind of a loser chan (only to reader), forbidden love, a bit of fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (do NOT), multiple orgasms, almost overstimulation?, mentions of blood and decapitation (separately)

let me know if I missed any

wc - 2.6k

note - writing my first smut was harder than I thought 😭

Even in a broken kingdom, where the royals drew a thick, taunting line between the rich and the poor.. nothing could ever make Christopher Bahng falter.

He was the one people talked about.

The boy who came from the less fortunate side of that line, who'd climbed his way up and landed himself a place at the left side of the Marquis.

The first time the Marquis had noticed him was when he'd had bloody knuckles— when a barely adult Christopher had taken down a man almost twice his size in order to carry out his duty to some lowly merchant that did not deserve his loyalty.

The Marquis had asked him to free himself from the filthy place, offering him a job and a livable income.

And now years later, Christopher was his most trusted— whether in terms of business, planning gatherings, getting his hands dirty on behalf of him.. or guarding his precious daughter and keeping her company.

Every task he was handed, he carried out with little to no difficulty. Because there was truly nothing that could make Christopher Bahng falter..

Except you.

The mere sight of you.

Your literal existence.

He had returned back to the capital only minutes ago. Travelling under the hot sun for hours on an empty stomach, the first destination his feet had taken him after returning to the Marquis's house was his daughter's room— to you.

You sat there in your glowing form, where the golden, evening sun bathed your body and reflected off of your silk robe. He had to stop for a moment, remind himself to breathe again, and carve your image into his head.

And yet— you did not take notice of him. Or refused to, for some reason. Because it had been minutes since he had been standing at your door, patiently, admiring you and the way your fingers slowly skimmed through the pages of the novel in your hand.

“For how long are you going to stand there, Christopher?” You asked without sparing him a glance.

“As long as it would take for you to look at me.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes and trained them towards him instead— towards his broad frame clad in black, up to his plump lips and his dark, starry eyes.

“There.. what you wished for.”

He smiled, a dimple falling on his cheek. “Don’t be so cold, m’lady.”

“Oh.. Of course. I am the one being cold.” Your gaze found the words in the novel again, missing the glint in his eyes. “It is not you who's cold, when you go away for months without even bothering to let me know.”

Ah.. he should've expected that.

The Marquis— as any other nobel in the capital— took the fear of his name and the business at his hand very seriously. And because of that, he had all the fame and the happiness he could ever wish for.

Though the one and only thing he lacked.. was a son to carry on his legacy.

Not that he didn't absolutely adore his only daughter. But to carry on his legacy, he needed someone just as demanding.. as intimidating as him.

To stay filthy rich in a kingdom like theirs.. one would often have to have filth on their palms too.

He wasn't sure if his daughter's pouty face and her incredible knack for words would get her the same respect and status as him. Moreover, he would rather spend time thinking of ways he could protect her from the courting eyes of the undeserving people in the kingdom.

But ever since Christopher had made his worth known to him, he felt like his work had become even easier. Naturally.. The Marquis sent him off to close a deal that he knew would take a while.

And it did take a while.. more than two months to be exact.

“So I ask you again.. For how long are you going to stand there, at my door?” You asked, voice laced with venom. “Till my father whisks you away for some work again, for months?”

Christopher couldn't hide desperate smile on his lips. “Lady Y/N..”

“Christopher?”

“Chan.” He corrected, his brows knit up in a way that made your heart lurch. “Chan, for you. Always.”

The entire capital said that you were blessed since birth; A kind face, beautiful features, a sharp tongue that turned soft and nurturing whenever it was appropriate, and a family that could lay the world at your feet.

But no one knew this was your blessing— the softness no one else saw.. the starry eyes, the bloodrush to his face, the dimples on his cheeks. The soft sighs and the groans, the praises and the pleas, all in the confines of those same four walls and among the same pile of pillows on which you laid, now glaring daggers at him.

The capital knew the disciplined, ruthless man with knuckles of iron.. not the boy who yearned for love and attention, who was putty in the hands of his beloved.

And why would they? The only one he ever yearned for, were you.

“Is my lady so mad at me she wouldn't call me by the name she so loves?”

There it was again.. the gentle voice that never fell on another's ear.

“If Chan just so happens to love Y/N’s father more than her, then yes.. Christopher it is.”

He finally moved after what seemed like hours, taking slow steps until he was inches away from the edge of your bed, kneeling in front of it. And you placed your novel on the nightstand beside, staring him down with a piercing, almost derogatory gaze.

If he said it didn't go right through his poor heart, he would be lying.

“But then what would Chan do without his lady?”

“Go and kiss her father's feet. After all, his word means life and death to him.”

And he bent over, lifting your foot till his lips met softly with your ankle— a sign of worship.

“Chan does all this for his lovely lady.. so he could live here another day, close to her.. trapped within her arms, and her lips, and her sweet voice.”

“Lies.” You scoffed, on the edge of forgiving and cruel.

“It was not easy for him either.. to stay far from her for so long.”

You blinked, unimpressed. “Then you should've told my father that.”

He let go of your foot, and you pulled it closer to your body. “Should’ve told him about what we have.. and what we are to each other. That his lovely daughter cannot live a day without her Chan.” You continued.

His eyes darkened only for a moment; half with immense affection, half with thrill. “He would take my head and mount it on a wall in his trophy room.”

“I would steal it and keep it my room.. right there..” You tilted your head towards the wall in front of you, a small smile on your face. “I would brush your hair tidy when a breeze falls, and kiss you good night till you fall apart and decay.”

He smiled, both of his dimples making a show this time. “How romantic.”

Though he saw the frown on your face. And all the days he longed for you came running back to him.

“I couldn't wait to be back here.. Couldn't wait to see you— hold you again.” And he could see on your face that you wanted to hear more. “Couldn't wait to be your Chan again.”

“And I should believe you are not lying?” You quirked an eyebrow, finding it hard to keep on the act.

“Please..” he whispered, climbing on the bed and crawling to you. Your breath hitched as his hands reached for you, parting your legs so he could settle in between. And you let him.

“Please what?” You teased as he hiked up your skirt, leaving a trail of kisses up your leg.

“Every day for two months, I've seen a man starve for his woman whenever I’ve walked past a mirror.”

“Pretty sure the left hand of the Marquis has more semblance than this.. He wouldn't let just anyone have him act this way.”

“Only you.. my lady, only you.” He had you melting at the sight of him.. his cheek resting against your thigh as he looked at you with crimson-dusted ears.

“Please.. Let me make it up to you.” He almost begged, peppering kisses as apologies on the inside of your thigh and then your barely covered mound. You exhaled sharply, feeling a familiar ache as his lips lingered more and more.

He looked up at the sight of you almost heaving, and his grip on the soft plush of your thighs tightened. Moving just a bit further down, he poked his tongue against your clothed cunt, and instantly felt your fingers in his hair pulling him up and away from his sweet place.

“Y/N..” He whined, leaving a trail of slow, wet kisses against your thigh— almost as if it helped him keep his sanity.

“Is this how you make it up to everyone, Channie?” You teased knowing your heart was racing madly, despite wanting to push him back where you wanted most.

He groaned softly at the nickname, rolling his hips into the mattress to give his growing bulge some sort of relief. “Only my lovely lady. Only to you..”

“Not even when you go away for months?”

“I promise you, my life and death has been written right here, beneath you. With you.” He squeezed at the soft skin of your legs again, before lifting your robe and dragging a finger through your folds. “Making sure my lady has everything she ever asks for.”

He looked up at you, and felt he could die happy right there, buried with his face between your thighs if it meant you'd look at him with lust-ridden eyes just one more time.

The next moment was a blur. Your grip on his hair easing which made him dive down once more, tasting you and burying his beautiful, beautiful nose in the place you loved— like his life depended on it.

You'd never felt such relief in your entire life before, having your nails run lovingly through his hair again. Having the one man that you ever loved and his warmth right by your side again.

His hands grabbed your hips and lifted then, making you whine at the growing knot in your lower belly. You came with a shudder, rubbing yourself against his face to ride out your orgasm.

“So sweet— my lady—”

His next words were cut off by your mouth on his, moaning when you tasted yourself on him. And then he was kissing you with the same ferocity, hands roaming everywhere, undoing the silk tie around your waist.

You bared his torso, wanting to feel his warmth against your body. And he understood it, reciprocating the need as he pulled you impossibly closer while mingling your tongues.

But then his hands were on your cunt again, two fingers sinking in that made you whimper.

“Channie!” You gasped, head falling back into the pile of pillows while his lips grazed your throat. “Need you.. inside me, please..”

“One more— just one more.” He begged, fingers pressing into the spot that he knew made you squirm. His thumb found your clit, rubbing rhythmic circles. “My sweet lady Y/N deserves that, doesn't she?”

You felt the knot again, out of breath, but still pulled him into a heated kiss, moaning against his mouth as you came.

You held his wrist there, wanting to feel full for a moment more as you came down from your high while he peppered soft kisses against your mouth.

“You do that again, I'm running away.” You warned him, and he chuckled.

“What? Making you come twice?”

You smacked his arm hard despite the wobbly feeling in your limbs, while he just laughed. “You know what I meant, Christopher.” You muttered distastefully, letting him remove his fingers despite feeling disappointingly empty.

“Let's stay at Chan, shall we?” He said against your lips, finding it hard to part from them.

“You can tease me all you want. We'll see what happens when I finally get tired of you leaving and get married to a noble.” You smiled slyly. “Preferably a Duke. I've heard Duke Felix of the North is rather charming.. Both with his face and his words.”

Chan bit his lips. “But would he come crawling back like this to my lady?” His lips pressed beneath her jaw, trying to suppress the jealousy that the image of that Duke with his Lady Y/N gave him.

“Would Lady Y/N ever love him the way she loves her Channie?”

“I mean.. if the first night after marriage is good enough..”

Chan’s mouth fell open, with a hint of amusement as well as disbelief. “Y/N!”

“Channie!” You whined playfully, using the tone that you knew would shut him up. You grabbed a pillow from your side and tossed it behind his back. You pushed him down, taking off his pants.

“Y/N..” His gaze held honey, as thick and saccharine as the love in his heart. He watched you caress his hard length before placing your warm cunt right on top of it. He let out a throaty moan.

“Never leave me like this again.” Your piercing tone was back. “Ever.” He groaned, hands finding your hips as you ground against his length.

“The Marquis might be your boss, but your lady is your first priority.” You mewled as he moved your hips against him, heading falling back with pleasure. “If not, she'll be the Duke’s—”

A wave of envy washed over him and he closed the distance to capture her lips again, biting against her lower lips hard enough to almost cut but then soothing it with his tongue.

“Always going to be me.. not him..” He lifted you a little, pumping himself a few times before lowering you onto him. Your warmth clenching around him made his head tip back with a groan. “Only me, no one else.” He panted.

“So full, Channie.” You moved slowly, rhythmically with him, and soon shivered with pleasure that made your eyes tear.

“You feel so— so good, my lady..” He grunted, his hand lowering and finding your clit again. You arched into him and hummed with satisfaction, feeling too much. “Come one more time for me?”

You nodded. “Yes— yes—” A cry broke out of you, and you hoped that he had scurried your maids out of the hallway before he'd come to your room.

You fell against his chest with a dazed smile as he held your hips in place and thrusted into you, chasing his own pleasure, driving you into the overstimulation you scowled at but secretly adored.

He fell apart to your presence— your smell, your skin against him, your nails marking his back, your tears falling on his shoulder— everything drove him mad to the point where he wanted nothing more to fuse with you and live as a part of you forever.

He should really consider going on shorter trips.

Once he pulled out of you, you laid there against the same pillows you always did, snuggling against each other through the cold that the evening brought. Your head found his chest immediately, longing for the thump of his heart against your cheek.

A beat of silence passed, and then he spoke up again. “Forgive me, Lady Y/N. I should've let you know before I left.”

“A bit too late for an apology, don't you think?” You taunted, and he smiled again, grabbing your chin pulling you into a kiss.

“Next time, I'll make sure to apologise first.” He teased back. You squinted your eyes at the implication of his words.

“So.. the Duke of North..”

He sighed with exaggeration.

“What? He really does wish to marry me. Go ask your boss.”

“What?!”

“Yes. Go on, disappear for another two months!”

“You declined?” He asked hopefully, face turning into something frail.

“Of course, I declined! I love you, you hunky fool!”

#skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz drabbles #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan drabbles #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

99 notes · View notes

oceantornadoo · 2 days ago

Text

got lovesick all over my bed (samira mohan x jack abbot sick fic)

Someone's knocking on her forehead.

No, that can't be right. Samira turns her brain on and tries valiantly to unstick her eyelids as she forcibly blinks them open. Once they are, cloudy but mostly functional, she takes in her living room looking exactly like how she left it. No TV, because she doesn't want to pay for cable and doesn't have time for it anyway. Stacks of medical journals, mostly neat, on the coffee table she got for $30 on Facebook Marketplace, scratched from lugging it up her stairs when her elevator was out of order, again. Marshmallow curled around himself in the corner, a reminder of her resolution to get a life, and a cat, after McKay's comment after the shift from hell 6 months ago.

Someone knocks again, but not on her forehead.

It's her door, an equally foreign object that rarely gets visitors except for the odd package delivery courier who is very, very lost. Samira runs a full body scan and is not surprised to find she fell asleep in her scrubs on her couch instead of taking the six steps into her bedroom and ensuite. What is surprising is the headache making itself known, along with congestion in every nasal passage she owns. Another slow blink reveals sinus pressure behind her eyes and cheeks and would you look at that, Samira Mohan has a sinus infection. A month before her fellowship applications are due.

And there's still someone pounding at her door.

She swings her legs off her couch, groaning as the soreness from working a double shift sinks into her bones. After a hefty grunt, Samira is fully vertical, her scrubs creased but thankfully bodily fluid-less. Maybe Mel came to check up on her? But she can't imagine her friend knocking in anything other than her usual pattern (two short, one long). Perhaps Dana, who was making comments the entire shift about how Samira looked like shit and should "go home before I write you up." Or, Samira shudders as she turns the lock to open, it's her mother, come to collect after three missed calls this week. She resolves herself to this most likely scenario, steeling her spine as she opens her door to-

Jack Abbot.

Dr. Abbot, she corrects herself, who is standing with one fist raised while the other clutches what looks like a takeout order from her favorite sushi place. A closer glimpse reveals a tub of miso soup, and her stomach grumbles in anticipation. It's a feat, but she draws her head up from the warm beacon of food to look at the man in front of her.

"Dana said you were sick." He states. Samira blinks molasses slow, and some part of her wonders if this is the flu and not a sinus infection. She must be hallucinating, because Dr. Abbot is wearing glasses that she has never, ever, seen before. If she had, the dreams she's been trying to ignore for a year would have made them a feature. They're rectangle-framed, the black color of plastic stark against his salt-and-pepper curls. An explicable breath of fondness bubbles up in her throat, and she has to slow it before it escapes.

"You're wearing glasses." Definitely the flu.

Abbot doesn't say anything, walking forward until she gets the message and lets him in. "Shoes," she murmurs, and he complies silently, kicking them off as she mentally kicks herself, because his prosthetic is probably less stable without a shoe. A chill wracks through her body, and all thoughts leave her head.

"Jesus, Samira." She blinks and he's there in front of her, the soup on her counter. He checks her forehead, her lymph nodes, and then brushes a finger against her cheek. It must be some field technique he knows, and she tries to remember to ask him if he has a case study to go along with it.

"Dr. Abbot..." She trails off, unsure of what she's going to say. An unlikely occurrence when she's usually always preparing a defense of her methods to Robby or an order to ask the upper floors, for the thirtieth time, if they have a free bed. "Jack." He orders and she swallows down a nod, which makes her throat ache. "Do you want to change out of your scrubs? A shower?" Pajamas. Shower. These are things she wants, but she nearly stumbles again when another wave of fatigue hits. Her spine curls and Dr. Abbot Jack catches her with a warm hand on her shoulder and another around her waist. It's instantly steadying as she resists the urge to curl into him.

"I need help showering. I don't think I can stand." Blood rushes in her ears as Jack takes a sharp breath. Tears prick her eyes, and she gets a flashback of her bathroom breakdown after Pittfest. The pure incompetency of her own body, one that performs its duties every day without fail, suddenly won't let her stand for more than a minute before giving up. "I could call Dr. King or maybe Dr. Collins..." He trails off, and she nearly laughs at how those are the only two people he could list because she doesn't have anyone else. But Mel is working and Heather is visiting her sister in California. And Samira's mom is a few hundred miles away in New Jersey, and god, Samira doesn't have anyone.

She realizes a second later she said that out loud.

"You have me." Jack murmurs. The hand at her waist starts pushing, moving her towards her bedroom with the strong weight of him at her back. Then it's into the bathroom, where Jack sits her on the closed toilet seat and squats in front of her.

"Your leg." She protests faintly, and it's like he didn't even hear her.

"We have a few options, Mohan. I've got some baby wipes you can use, but the shower steam is going to help more. Your shower is too small for me to put that chair I saw in the kitchen in there. What do you want to do?" The impossibility that Jack is standing in her bathroom has suddenly hit. Jack, who has been sending her medical journals at all hours for a year now. Jack, who became a temporary day shift attending for a week after Robby took leave. Jack, who took her out for breakfast after a particularly rough night shift that she was only covering because it was Langdon's first visit with his kids. Jack, who's started bringing her lavender oat milk lattes after they went to an artisan cafe and all she could talk about was getting an attending salary to pay for a $7 latte.

Jack.

"Dr. Mohan."

She jerks her head up, which had fallen down as fatigue hit again. He's making that concentrated look where his eyes disappear into a dark color she can't name. "Can you help me shower?" He closes his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, before opening them and nodding.

Jack does not help her shower. Dr. Abbot does. They start the water so it has time to warm up, then methodically strip Samira down. Well, he strips her while she holds onto the wall, try not to let her body collapse. Thankfully, her curls are somehow still in her claw clip, because if she had to wash her hair, she would simply shave it off. His eyes are on hers the entire time, never taking more than a perfunctory glimpse at her skin as more gets revealed. A cloud of steam hits her when she steps into the shower, one hand on Dr. Abbot's strong forearm as she attempts to stand straight. The shower curtain is partially open enough for his hand, but they agreed that she would wash her body.

It's clinical, like she's watching from outside herself as she swipes soap up and down. More recently, she's tried longer showers to do a "body check in", something the meditation app Ellis recommended told her to do. This time, her left hand swipes over the most important parts as her right hand clings to Jack's. It's the kind of grip she imagines he gave back in his army days; fingers curled around each other's forearms and wrists. After the soap washes away the mess of the Pitt and she can breathe a bit easier, she steadies her free hand against the tiled wall.

"Everything okay?" His voice comes out muffled, concern etched into his vowels. "Just need a second." She squeezes his arm and he squeezes back. She wonders if his glasses are fogged. Samira takes another greedy gulp of steam before shutting off the water, the bathroom falling silent.

Her blue towel floats before her as Jack valiantly tries to hand it over without pulling back the shower curtain. She lets herself smile before grabbing it, dropping his grip so she can properly wrap it around herself. Once secure, she tugs back the shower curtain (a light pink flower design she fished out of a clearance bin) and comes face to face with Jack Abbot and his glasses. Fogged.

Samira Mohan is delirious. She has a new variant of the flu that will unfortunately transfer to half of the country with the lack of NIH funding they're facing. This is the only reason for her to reach out and hook her finger under the bridge of Jack's glasses, pushing them up until they're nestled into his curls and his face is free from obstruction.

Jack must've caught the flu too, because he lets her.

He guides her with a hand on her back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He forces her to sit onto her (blessedly made) bed, ignoring how Marshmallow has made himself at home on one of her pillows. "Pajamas?" She points to a dresser, letting him pick out a ratty Michigan tee that she's had for almost twenty years now, along with a pair of black shorts that he puts on the bed. Jack knows she went to Pitt for undergrad. Jack also knows her father went to Michigan on full scholarship from the Math department, a feat for an international student from India. A fact she revealed during Shen's birthday drinks while they watched the Michigan v Penn State game in a sports bar. Samira stays quiet.

"Do you need help changing?" He asks, no judgement in his voice. The shower has made her limbs temporarily stronger, so she shakes her head. "I'm going to make sure the soup is hot. I'll come back in ten." She sits there, slightly dripping in her towel with her comfort shirt next to her, and watches Jack scoop Marshmallow into his arms, murmuring about getting him dinner. Despite the steam, something chokes Samira's throat as she watches him close her bedroom door, sending her a half-grin over his shoulder.

Samira dresses slowly, one hand on her mattress to steady herself. Clothes on, she finds enough strength to dig out the cold & flu medicine under her bathroom sink, taking the medicine before trudging back to her bed. She sinks into bed, finding the phone that she had left on her bed table before her double. That should've been the first sign.

12 hours ago:

Dr. Jack Abbot ATTENDING: Racial Disparities in Neurological Surgery Outcomes.pdf

Dr. Jack Abbot ATTENDING: Methods might be helpful for your fellowship app.

10 hours ago:

Mel King: How was your double? Looking forward to pizza with Becca on Saturday!

4 hours ago:

Dr. Jack Abbot ATTENDING: Dana said you weren't feeling well after your shift. Can I pick you up anything?

3 hours ago:

Amma: Priti's wedding is in August. Can you take off 2 weeks to go to India?

1 hour ago:

Dr. Jack Abbot ATTENDING: Samira?

30 minutes ago:

Dr. Jack Abbot ATTENDING: I'm coming over.

Samira types out a quick confirmation to Mel, then "I'll have to check" to her mom. And then she stares at her chat with Jack, his final message blinking back at her. He's only seen her apartment once when he drove her home from breakfast a month ago, and he had insisted on street directions rather than GPS. He didn't have her unit number either, and it's not on her mailbox. She thinks of her emergency info in the hospital records and blinks rapidly.

He knocks at her bedroom door, gentler than he did her front. "Decent?" She nods before realizing he can't see, and makes a noise of assent. It's only when he steps through does she realize what he's wearing. Scrubs. Scrubs and it's 8pm and she worked day shift today (left an hour early when Dana forced her to) which means he was supposed to work night. But he's here.

"Were you supposed to work tonight?" She murmurs, throat too sore to raise her voice. Jack shrugs, setting down a bowl of soup on her bedside table before checking her temperature with a forehead thermometer that must've been in his go-bag. "Shen covered for me." He doesn't show her her temperature, just sets down the device and grabs the bowl. "But- Jack. You should be working. I'm fine now, you can go. I'm sure they need you." He doesn't answer, raising a spoonful of soup to her mouth, shoulders only dropping from their tense height when she swallows. "He owed me. I fed that ball of fur you call a cat, so it's your turn." She takes another spoonful, warmth spreading in her belly. Due to the soup, obviously.

"Marshmallow is a very respectable cat." She replies once her mouth finally doesn't feel like cotton. Jack snorts, leaning his knee into the mattress as he insists on standing and feeding her soup. She knows his leg must be killing him, and scoots over until he has enough room to take some weight off his prosthetic. "He's a lazy excuse for a cat. Only opened his eyes when I put his food in his bowl." She smiles as she swallows, which she immediately imagines to look horrific paired with her red rimmed eyes and snotty nose. Jack just winks.

Jack talks about the journal he sent her that she didn't get a chance to read as she eats. It's nicer than silence, makes her feel almost human again as she falls into the comforting blanket of medicine. The spoon clinks against the empty bowl and her eyes flutter open at the noise. "I'll bring you some liquids to keep by you when you sleep." He says absentmindedly, his eyes on her lips as she licks the last of the broth off. They flick down onto the empty bowl, and the bed is suddenly cold as he leaves to do exactly what he said.

When he comes back, Samira is tucked in under the covers, eyes barely open. He places a water bottle and a bottle of Gatorade on the bedstand, then steps back and crosses his arms against his chest like he's analyzing a case. "Thank you, Jack." Samira whispers. He swallows hard and nods, that ever-present stare of his on her. "Are you going back to the hospital?" She asks, suddenly not wanting him to go. To wake up and have this be a dream.

"Shen's covering. I've got the next four days off, something about working too much." She grins from her nest of warmth, knowing it's exactly something she would complain about too. Then, Samira Mohan gathers all the courage she can in her infection-torn body.

"Will you stay?"

Jack nods.

Samira sleeps for 13 hours. Jack counts.

He wipes down the couch and makes it his fortress, taking off his prosthetic and grabbing a nearby journal from a few months ago. He can't sleep, his body too used to this being his normal work hours. Instead, he listens to Samira's sleeping breaths and occasional snores, her bedroom door open as he insisted on.

9 hours in, his eyes flutter closed. He takes a cat nap, wary of the actual cat who stares at him from the other end of the very beaten-up couch he couldn't imagine Samira buying for herself. After a few dreamless hours, he makes tea as quiet as possible, double-checking every move and being very thankful Samira Mohan owns an electric kettle. The sun is already streaming through the living room curtains, but she's still sleeping, and he'll stay here as long as he can.

In Samira Mohan's apartment.

In the few dreams he has, he's been here in a thousand iterations. A studio with lilac walls, a four-bedroom apartment with roommates they had to keep quiet from, a house passed down from her grandparents. He's invented so many thoughts of where she lives, and even after driving her home that one time, her vanilla scent permeating his memories for days, he never imagined a cat.

She's never mentioned one. And Jack Abbot likes to consider himself a bit of an expert on Samira Mohan.

Samira's latte from Lotus Creations costs $7.49. Samira's mother calls when she's working, like she doesn't know Samira's schedule. Samira has pizza nights with Dr. King and her sister once or twice a month and always comes into shift change smiling after. Samira reads journals on anything and everything. Samira is applying for a PTMC fellowship, but also a Stanford and UIC and Washington one. Samira has a little crinkle by her eye when faced with a tough case. Samira doesn't have time for dating, which she told Parker during a rare night shift three months and five days ago.

Apparently, Samira Mohan has a white cat named Marshmallow.

That's what he's contemplating, a mug of chamomile tea growing cold in front of him, when Samira Mohan herself appears in front of him. Her curls are frizzy and encircle her head like a halo, and while Jack Abbot doesn't consider himself a poet, she makes it pretty damn easy for him to think like one. Her shirt creases match the ones on her cheek, which he hopes means she slept well. Her fingers, capable ones he's seen do thousands of procedures, fiddle with the hem of her shirt.

"You're still here." She croaks. He pushes the lukewarm tea towards her, chest loosening when she takes a sip and closes her eyes contentedly. "Told you I'd stay." He reminds her, taking the easy way out. Selfishly, he wanted as much time as he could with her like this, unguarded and willing to accept help for once. Which makes him think of the shower, and he cuts off that train of thought.

He lets her use the thermometer, satisfied when her temperature is lower than the 100.1 it was when he got here. She takes the barstool next to his, leaving them both to stare at the stove as she sips on her tea. It's time for her to take another dose of medicine, but the silence feels sacred.

Until Marshmallow jumps into his lap.

Jack jolts, age old reflexes keeping his knee from jerking against the counter. Samira just laughs, reaching over to scratch the cat behind the ears. Her hand is six inches above Jack's lap, something he never thought would happen, nevermind the cat in the way.

"Never told me you had a cat." Is the first thing that comes to his mind. Samira hums, scratching Marshmallow under the chin now. "It felt like a cliche." She answers. Jack's brows furrow as he turns his head towards her, tired of ignoring the magnetic pull of her smile. "Of what, exactly?" Samira drops her hand to go back to her tea, and for once Jack and Marshmallow are on the same side of disappointment. "Single workaholic woman gets a cat so she has someone to come back to at the end of her day. Pretty sure that's in a 2000s movie somewhere." He knew, in some remote way, that Samira was like him. That the job wasn't just the job but a lifeline, some portal to transform old wrongs into new rights. But it's different to watch her be embarrassed by it, to see her cheeks warm and a little cough emit from her throat that he's sure wasn't there five seconds ago.

"It's your day off, Abbot. You should go home. I'm fine now." She spits it out like a script, someone puppeteering her from behind. The switch from Jack to Abbot is another shot to the heart, but he powers through. Despite himself (and the memories of the evil cat his mother had until it died at age 15, the bastard), Jack pets Marshmallow. The thing purrs, and he can't help but think about the ghost of his ex-wife exclaiming in excitement that he's finally showing care for a living thing with four legs. He watches, always watching, as Samira tucks a curl behind her ear and locks eyes with his hand petting her cat.

He can't even think about that sentiment either.

"You're not cured overnight, Samira. IV fluids and observation." Her brows furrow as her finger traces a circle around the lip of her mug. "So what, you're going to stay here for however long it takes for me to get better? Be serious." He is serious, but she doesn't know that. For how intelligent (and capable and beautiful and strong and-) she is, it's clear she doesn't feel the same sense of knowing he does. He can tell when she enters a trauma room by the snap of her gloves or when she's two hours past when she's supposed to clock out by the tilt of the clip in her hair. Jack Abbot knows Samira Mohan. And that's enough. It's fine if she doesn't know him back. He can take that. Deal with it like the laundry list of things his therapist has written down in that green notebook of his. It's fine.

(It hasn't been fine for a year now).

"I need to make sure my best resident lives to see another day." An evasion, but he keeps his eyes on her face so it's not obvious how much he cannot answer her question. Her brows furrow and that crinkle near her eye comes out again.

"Jack." Samira Mohan doesn't plead. She defends to Robby or she calmly explains to a patient or she argues with a resident who would rather call a Pysch consult than ask what chemicals an overworked immigrant mom deals with at her manufacturing job. She doesn't plead, but something in those brown eyes of hers is pleading.

"Samira." Jack turns his body on the barstool and she mirrors him, their knees scraping against each other. "You wouldn't stay four days just because I'm sick. Say it." He can't. He's never lied to her and he won't start now. "I would. I am, if you'll let me." She stutters over whatever response she was going to give, then sneezes rapidly into the crook of her elbow. Jack moves to grab a tissue, but she stops him with a hand on his knee. The knee connected to a full leg, where the weighty warmth of her is overwhelming to the point of full mental disfunction.

"Why?" She asks, small. So unlike herself.

"Because I want to, Samira. There's nowhere else I'd rather be." It's a bit too much. He's going to scare her and then realize these were all veiled attempts to get him to leave, not the curtain on his feelings slowly being pulled back. "You don't have anything better to do? Anyone waiting and wondering why the hell you're here with-" She cuts herself off, but the last word was clear. Me. Here with me. Her hand drops from his knee.

"There's no one else waiting for me, Samira." Her nostrils flare at the word 'else'. She swallows hard, and he's proud to notice it goes down easier now that she's had some fluids and meds and rest under his care.

"Ask me, Samira." She blinks twice, then meets his gaze.

"Why do you send me journals at 2am? Why do you get me a latte, when I know that stupid overpriced place is ten minutes out of your way to work? Why did you have Shen cover?" It's his turn to initiate contact. To toe the line, to run his thumb over the skin stretched tight on her knuckle as she grips her mug hard.

"Sometimes, after a long shift when I'm staring at my ceiling fan, I'll open up my voicemail. Then I click on Samira Mohan from January 12th, 2 minutes and 38 seconds. I knock out within a minute, right after you switch from reframing patient satisfaction methods to asking if we can get breakfast again, because those French toast cinnamon rolls looked really good, but you didn't want to pay $25 for a bad meal after losing ten patients in that black ice MCI. And then you apologize for overstepping, and I go to sleep dreaming of how many French toast cinnamon rolls I would buy you before you'd stop me. I think you'd draw the line at seven, but I'd happily lose that bet."

He's been focused on her hand this whole time, watching it tense under the sweeping motions of his thumb. When he finds her face, inevitably drawn as always, her eyes are watery and she's shaking slightly. "Samira, honey. I can go if I've read this wrong and we never have to bring this up again. I'll be okay." She shakes her sternly like she's correcting a biased intern.

"Jack Abbot, don't you dare go." Her hands go to the waistband of his scrubs and she yanks gently until he stands in the cradle of her thighs, one hand sweeping the skin under eye and the other cradling her jaw. "Is this okay?" He murmurs, grinning to himself when she nods again. "I want to kiss you, but I don't want to get you sick." She admits, eyes wide like she's stunned by her own admission.

Jack makes the decision for her.

She opens immediately for him, warm and pliant as he tilts her head up slightly. Samira sighs a little into his mouth and a shudder carves its way into his heart, marking the memory in stone. She tastes like chamomile and sleep and the mint of the toothpaste he saw in her bathroom. Her hands fist his scrubs to pull him closer, and Jack eagerly ignores the strain in his neck. It's starts hot and impatient, months years of yearning spilling into her mouth like honey, golden and sticky. He wills himself to calm down as she chases to catch up, pulling back slightly to give little pecks. Jack catches her bottom lip and pulls it down before releasing, doing it again when Samira whimpers sweetly.

"I can't dehydrate you." He warns as he leaves her lips, kissing her cheek and running his nose along the length of her jaw. "Run me an IV and it won't be a problem." She debates, letting him laugh into the crook of her neck. Jack kisses the smooth brown skin there, smiling when she hisses in shock.

"Let me take care of you." He grips her jaw with two fingers to make his intention clear. Samira tenses, ready to defend like the knight she is, but then suddenly softens in his grip.

"Okay."

Marshmallow meows his agreement from the ground somewhere, and that's that.

#tornadothoughts #the pitt #jack abbot #samira mohan #abbot x mohan #mohan x abbot #mohabbot #jack abott x samira mohan #dr abbot #dr mohan #sick fic

86 notes · View notes

maybankslover · 3 days ago

Text

saw it coming- drew starkey

drew starkey x ex!girlfriend

drew starkey x singer!reader

warnings: kinda angst, mentions of infidelity but it doesn't actually happen, drew not being a good partner with someone else. fluff. this is all fiction.

summary: she knew she wasn't the one for him, they all saw it coming.

she knew she had known for years she wasn't the one he'd marry. maybe it was because she tries so hard to be cool, to fit in his life and family, to get along with his mom even when they both know the older woman didn't really like her.

maybe she should've been less cool, less chill maybe if she had drawn the line. if she had asked to be displayed in public not as a company, not as someone he wouldn't hug for a picture but exposed for once and for all as his girlfriend. if she asked him to not keep everyone guessing.

it was funny at the start being "secretive" and all, it was funny to read the theories but it wasn't funny anymore and the lamp was being turned off.she was quite young when they started dating, freshly twenty and he was already pushing into his late twenties.

maybe she should've known, there were all so many songs about it but he was so tall and handsome as hell. everyone and their mother would've ignored the age difference too.

almost three and a half years together when she started to ask for more.

"so i was thinking about posting this picture, can i?" she showed him a picture that showed her resting against his chest with a small bouquet of flowers in hand.

"isn't it too intimate to show? like I love it but for us." he replied and she nodded.

"no yeah you're right." he hummed and kissed her cheek. she didn't include anything about him in that photodump.

"i have a netflix event next week, want you to come with me." she watched him as he prepared to leave her house. "you free on friday?"

"is there a dress code?" he laughed.

"as if you'll ever follow them baby." she smiled at him and welcomed the kiss he pressed to her lips.

when friday came along she already knew the drill.

"what's up?" one of his cast mates hugged her. "it's been a long time since i last saw you."

"finished filming last month." the one's beside her nodded as they remembered what drew had told them.

"heard it's quite a big project." she felt so comfortable with them, they included her in pictures and gatherings.

"it's pretty cool. one of the things i've enjoyed the most to make if i'm being honest." the conversation didn't last long as the cast was called to go on stage.

the pictures the next day looked the same as always, his hands inside his pockets never touching her waist, shoulders or any part of her body.

"why can't you just hug me for a picture? everyone already knows we're together." she had every right to be as angry as she was right now.

"don't want anyone going on and about on our relationship." he shrugged his shoulders, they both knew that was a lie.

"everyone knows about us, everyone talks about us." she ironically laughed. "are you ashamed of me?"

"god no baby no." he rushed to her side and placed his hands on her cheeks. "i love you alright?"

"i love you too but sometimes you make me feel awful drew." he sighed.

"i'm sorry for that but i'm not ashamed of you." she believed the lie he told her.

he did love her in his own weird way but she sometimes made him feel embarrassed of how she acted in public.

maybe it was on his thirty-first birthday when he realised, without actually letting the thought come through, it was probably time to start settling down as if having a girlfriend for the past three years wasn't serious enough. she didn't feel the shift on him.

she should've.

she saw it coming but not in the way it unfolded. schedules, as usual, got busy this time of the year, she was doing promo and he was filming another movie and a music video.

that music video was the shift, not for her but for him. when he met the singer he would be working with it was like a light ignited inside him that said 'this is the one'.

she was so pretty, nice and genuine. there wasn't a show around her when the cameras weren't on, down to earth and extremely similar to him.

both born and raised in a big family, tons of siblings and extended family. she had just received her degree as a kinder-garden teacher when her career blew up.

that was the one for him, he knew it. such a particular thing doesn't really has an explanation on how he felt.

and she hadn't said anything because she knew he had a girlfriend of some kind but she felt it in her gut. he was the one for her too.

"hope to catch up sometime." she said, giving him a hug. "thank you for being part of this."

"it was a pleasure to work with you. maybe we'll coincide in the same city." he smiled back before they said their goodbyes.

he went back to his apartment in los angeles with a clear thought in his head. it was moment to end his three year long relationship, the girl he had been stringing along all this time and he knew he was an awful person for not releasing her sooner but she was never the one for him.

for the plans of a family he wanted to have someday. she wasn't the one he saw as the mother of his kids.

so when two days after she came back from the promo of her movie three weeks from the last time they had seen each other, he sat her down.

"what i'm going to say isn't easy and i don't expect you to be alright with it but this is how i've been feeling for a while now, this isn't working for me anymore." he sighed as he looked her eyes lose the sparkle they'd whenever she looked at him.

"what do you mean?" it was obvious what he meant.

"i want us to break up. this isn't what i want for myself anymore." he knew the conversation wouldn't end in her agreeing just because even if he wanted it to be that way.

"is there someone else or what happened in the past three weeks?" he denied with his head.

"there isn't anyone else. it's about me and what i want for my future." she scoffed.

"three years drew. three and now you realise that i'm not the future you want?" she stood up. "you can actually go fuck yourself."

"hey i'm not being mean to you." but he was being mean to her. "i know it's fucked up but it's what i feel and i'm sorry i'm hurting you because i love you even if this isn't what i want anymore."

“drew shut up.” her voice raised a bit.

he tried to say something else but she didn’t let him.

"don’t say my name. i j-just go, please leave." he sighed but followed her orders.

“I’m sorry.” he wasn’t.

they met a week later at her place to give eachother their things back.

"was there someone else?" she sighed. "at any point, was there someone else?"

"no, there wasn't. i can promise you there wasn't." at least he was honest in what he was telling her.

five months later she was still mourning what they had been. what they could've been if she hadn't been so permissive from the very start.

five months later he was having dinner with the singer from that music video, he had taken his time before going out again. didn't want to rush it, to fuck it up by starting something with someone else fresh out of his relationship.

they were playing some game that ended with them asking random questions and losing the train of how it had started.

"so old man" it made drew laugh. "you were in a relationship last time we saw each other. six months ago?"

"yeah."

"what happened?" it was normal for her to be curious, she was interested in him but wasn't interested to get herself into a threeway kind of mess.

"wasn't what i wanted for me anymore, couldn't see the future i want with her." he sighed. "she's a great woman but not the one i wanted to have a family with." he looked at his glass of wine.

"I get it." his sight shifted towards her this time. "ended my last relationship for the same reason."

"how long ago?"

"a year, we were together for two and a half i think." he nodded signaling for her to continue. "realised a bit late that he didn't really had a brain in his head and only wanted me for the ibiza nights i could get him into" her shoulders bump up for a second. "so i decided i won't ruin my life with some lowlife who would in the long run."

"different goals" he said and she agreed.

"already have my career, my success and i want more in my private life someday too, he wasn't the one to create that with."

they locked eyes without saying anything, there was like a secret moment of understatement there weren't any words to be said. their night continued, laughing and chattering as if they had known each other their whole lives.

“so drew listen i had a great time but i don’t want to dive into anything if you aren’t over your last girl.” they stood on the front door of her house. “because i’ve been there, hung over a guy that used me to get over someone else.”

“I get it and you don’t have to trust me because you don’t really know me but i know i’m over her.” she gave him a small smile. “I would like to keep seeing you if that’s alright with you.”

“yeah i’m alright with that.” he didn’t expect the kiss on the cheek she gave him, lingering there for a moment. “ ‘night starkey.”

“goodnight sweetheart.” he walked back towards his truck. “see you soon.”

many coffee dates in deserted places. late night drives by the beach, secret kisses in the privacy of her home and oh if it didn’t feel like love.

‘he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown’ taylor swift’s lyrics as the background of their lazy sunday morning. drew still in bed while she stood in his kitchen making breakfast wearing the shirt he discarded on the floor when they came back from dinner last night.

“hey pretty girl.” a sleepy smile on his face as he saw her walk inside the bedroom.

“the toasts are a bit burned.” he chuckled. “but the rest it’s alright, I think.”

they ate in silence, the birds could be heard outside the window.

“I’m going home next friday for my mom’s birthday.” drew said placing his plate on the bedside table.

“are you gonna drive or you’ll be taking a flight?” she didn’t think much about it they’ve been dating for almost five months only and they didn’t met the other one’s friends yet.

“I’m gonna drive but i wanted to ask you something.” she gave him a nod. “I want you to come with me, only if you want of course.”

“isn’t really a question.” she smiled at his soft laugh. “you want me to meet your family? like for real?”

“yeah for real.” he smiled back. “I want them to meet you.”

“I want to meet them too.”

right there they knew what it was, love, true love.

the days before the upcoming trip she wrote three whole songs.

“do you think i’m going too fast?” she asked her best friend on the phone.

“nah honey i think he loves you so good it was inevitable for you to fall in love so quickly.” vic saw the glimmer in her friend’s eyes, the smile in the pictures she sent her. the look in his eyes when he looked at her in some silly video.

she was nervous to meet his family, one of his sisters was still close with his ex-girlfriend, what if they didn’t like her and they missed the girl from before?

back in new york city a brunette received a message which content broke her heart. from his younger sister.

text

b ‘i wanted to tell you before you found out via instagram or somewhere else.”

b ‘he brought a girl home. It’s pretty serious, i’m sorry’

he took a girl home when he said he preferred to spend time alone with his family most of the times he went back home, an excuse to not bring her along. now she knew what she should’ve realised all those years back, she didn’t know how to get clean even after more than ten months later.

his family adored her, their interaction seemed straight out of a christmas movie.

“I hadn’t seen him so happy in ages.” his mom said in a moment they were left alone right before everyone would say their good night to go to bed. “thank you, he’s my boy again.”

“you’ve done an amazing job with drew, i’ve never had a boyfriend as amazing as he is.” the older woman involved her in a tight hug.

“he’s never had a girlfriend as genuine as you.” it felt so real, the possibility of a future together.

two weeks later when her family found out she had gone to north carolina to meet his family, they insisted of having a reunion to meet him. the man on the screen who was making her come back straight home to him.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” his friend madelyn said, the group of outer banks castmates watched as the couple who had reached their year anniversary, they had met her a small number of times but she had grown in all of them.

“It’s like a light is around him everytime you see him with her.” jd added. “I’m happy for him.”

they had managed to keep it as lowkey as possible, people were already talking about them running in the same circles but nothing about them actually being together had come out.

“I want to play you something. I’m writing the new album.” her music room was a big representation of who she was. the things adorning the walls, the little details on her guitars.

he loved everything about her. so he sat down on the floor, right in front of her.

‘you are everything to me and I, I would die for you’

she tilted her face up a flicker of light on her cheeks.

‘I'd give up all I have, in exchange for who I love more than anything’

he was trying so hard to not let a tear fall.

‘how could I never let you know? I would die for you’

and he failed terribly.

“Baby?” she said softly in the same way she always talked to him.

“I love you so fucking much.” she laughed at his words.

“I love you so fucking much more.” he pressed a firm kiss to her lips.

maybe he had been a shitty boyfriend to someone else but she couldn’t say the same. he was the best man she had been with, he felt as a forever kind of love.

“I want to stop hiding.” she didn’t expect him to say those words. “just want to hold your hand in public and all that romantic shit people do.”

“I’d like that.” a fight of kisses unfolded in the instruments filled room.

but a walk wasn’t their ‘hard lunch’ it was him posting a photo dump, the first one of them both on the backstage of his new movie.

drewstarkey

liked by ynln, madelyncline, danielgraig and 2.236.002 more

drewstarkey ‘life lately. pretty girl spotted’

comments have been restricted

ynln ‘love you pretty boy’

shit blew up on twitter real fast and a girl who he had now forgotten still wondered what it was that she was missing, what the beloved singer had for him to choose her.

“it doesn’t matter anymore, we told you for ages he didn’t love you in the same way.” one of her friends said and she knew he was right, it had only taken him a year and a half to post his new girl.

It only took him two years to marry her. It’s true when they say a man always knows, he knew from the start she was the one for him and the forgotten girl knew from the start she was never the one.

drewstarkey & ynln

song beauty and the beast by celine dion and peabo bryson

liked by sabrinacarpenter, brookestarkey, taylor swift and 4.569.023 more

drewstarkey & ynln something happened… two and a half from our very first day with the very first movie we ever watched.

tale as old as time

comments have been restricted.

If you see it coming baby, just run. It’ll never be you.

It’ll be the one who fits he’ll actually love, don’t settle for someone who won’t settle for you.

the singer and the actor had found eachother, fate working in their favor even when they felt bad karma would be coming for them it never did.

fate and soulmates can't be stopped from finding the other.

please if you liked it reblog! it helps me a lot

taglist: @droppedyourhnd @congratsloserr @rafesbabygirlx @gillybear17 @theoraekenslover @silkylovey @frankoceanluvr11 @ethanthequeefqueen

#maybankslover #outer banks #obx #drew starkey #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey boyfriend #husband!drew #drew starkey x singer!reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey one shots #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey x y/n

118 notes · View notes

dumbkiri · 1 day ago

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 12

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ησтє: multiple pov's, so I apologize for the scatter narratives, but it will make sense in the next part. the ending is a little abrupt because it will be in mc/xaden's pov and I don't want it to be a rewrite for you all. bear with me, this series is almost over

ρℓσт: the battle starts and you can only do so much to earn the ending you want.

LIAM

My sister has been the foundation Sloane and I have stood on for a long time. Ever since our parents passed and we got separated, we made a promise to see each other in the college of death. It’s what [Name] called it for a while because all the Marked Ones were sent there to basically die.

Sloane liked her humor, and I told her she could work on it. [Name] laughed and told us that making people laugh wasn’t exactly a skill for her. We said our goodbyes and I saw a fire light up in her. That day we made a promise and she made one for herself.

Her first year, she wrote letters for us to read and I hate to compare it to Violet. But it seemed like they were just alike, but on opposite sides of the world. [Name] faced off a group of bullies and bonded to one of the biggest dragons known in our history. Violet had faced a couple of bullies because of what her name carried and she also bonded to a large dragon and a young one.

They both fell in love with the same man; Xaden Riorson. And it has brought the two of them great pain loving a man like him. I can finally see how it tore my sister apart. How the relationship between Xaden and Violet broke her down to pieces.

I can see the pain she holds in her eyes the way she looks at him. She is trying to forgive him, it’s obvious. I can also see the hurt Violet carries in her own eyes. To blame my brother for their anguish isn’t right because it’s not his fault. It’s the bond between Sgaeyl and Tairn.

I hate the idea of love triangles. Because someone is always bound to get left behind and watching my sister burn the letter directed at her made something inside me burn too. I’ve done enough leaving her in the shadows, we all have. I want to be there for her like her letters helped me through this year.

I want to be the brother protecting her like she’s been the sister protecting me. I don’t care about the real history between us. How she’s a foster and that there is no blood between us shared. Because I don’t accept that. I won’t.

She is and will always be [Name] Mairi to me. To Sloane. To our parents. [Name] is our older sister, my parents' older daughter. She is a part of the Mairi Family.

“You know my answer, Xaden,” [Name] wiped the ash on the tips of her fingers on her leathers, “I’m not running away from this fight. They expect us to die, but I won’t let it happen. As long as we have our air superiority, I can cloak us.”

“How many at a time without burning out?” Xaden questioned.

“I can cloak two including my dragon,” She admitted and explained further, “Lenin’s size takes up a lot, but I can cloak the rest of you by switching the focus.”

“And me?” Violet stepped up, asking a very important question. After the Flier incident and threatening families, it seemed like [Name] didn’t like Violet one bit. So the question came up, “Can you cloak Tairn while cloaking Lenin?”

I drew my attention to my sister’s blue eyes and something flickered inside them. Like a red gleam. She nodded her head and said, “Yes, I will do that if your life is in immediate danger.”

Immediate danger.

All of us were going to be in immediate danger once we took flight. Her answer didn’t help any of us because [Name]’s cloak is under her guidance. She will cloak who she wants to save the most. And Violet Sorrengail is at the bottom of her list.

“Wow, you guys are still doubting me,” [Name] scoffed then she pointed at the direction where the venin have been attacking relentlessly, “do you see the civilians running down there? Fathers carrying their daughters, sons leading their mothers? They have nothing but gryphons and our dragons to evacuate them. Their life is in immediate danger. Don’t make me choose you over them, unprotected civilians over dragon riders. Now let’s move.”

I hate it when she’s right. It makes me feel guilty thinking she wanted Violet to be in danger. But in truth, her main focus is the people running away with their families trying their best to survive the venin attacks. We have no room to doubt her signet or her power and Lenin’s strength.

She jogged away from us with tense shoulders and Lenin shot up into the sky when she mounted him in record time. [Name] didn’t wait for Xaden’s command or to see if any one of us decided to fall back. She ran to her dragon and into the fight like she expected an outcome.

“[Name] is right,” Xaden spoke up, addressing us with a different air of authority, “The civilians are going to be her priority, so do not do anything stupid. One mistake can lead to death. We won’t know where she’ll be, but remember that she’s watching over us. You’ll know the moment you’re cloaked, it won’t be a hard feeling to miss.”

“When you’re cloaked try to get out of combat to allow [Name] to focus back on the civilians,” Garrick chimed in and looked back at Xaden for any more orders.

“Anyone want to change their minds?”

His eyes landed on Bodhi’s, Imogen’s, everyone down the line and no one answered. [Name] is already on the field supporting the Drift and their civilians. Now it’s our turn to meet up with her and provide unwavering support.

She doesn’t have to be the brave one. We have her back too.

“Good. Now mount up.”

…

IMOGEN

“You can’t reach Lenin when he’s cloaked?” I asked Glane as we flew into the darkening sky. It adds more unsettling weight in our surroundings which is filled with explosions and screaming families.

“No. But I trust him. Wherever he is, he’ll be safe.” Glane banked left dodging the falling clocktower Violet took out with Tairn. His fire incinerated the clocktower, but unfortunately the venin inside survived the blast with no fucking harm done. These things are straight up impossible to kill on dragonback. We have to get up close and personal with them.

“There is more than one wyvern,” Glane relays to me and I have the sudden urge to curse the Gods until a cold feeling covers me. Then Glane dives down with a tuck of her wings and I swear a gust of wind almost knocks me off her back. A screech sounds over us and I look up to see a wyvern taking flight higher with a shake of its head.

“Imogen, are you alright!” [Name] shouted down the shared bond. Her voice brings me back to our shit reality.

“What the fuck? Did it try to grab me?” I ask with my heart thrumming against my ribcage.

“It did, but Glane reacted just in time. Please, pay attention to your surroundings. I have to help the rest evacuate the civilians in the mine.” [Name]’s determination faded away with the bond as did the coldness over my dragon and I. We were back in the battle and Glane was suddenly dodging random lightning strikes. She has no problem evading them, but it's an obstacle we don’t need.

“Fuck, I wish I can tell Violet some words like ‘Aim for the enemy, not us!’” I sarcastically growl out in mild frustration while Glane banks left then right maneuvering around the uncontrolled strikes. She needs to get out of this area.

“We cannot touch the ground.” Glane informs me and in slow motion I see why. Soleil and her dragon are utterly broken down on the ground. They’re all shriveled up and I immediately look away from them, the sorrow reaching my dragon down the bond.

“We will avenge them,” Glane reassures me, “Tairn and his rider believe that if we kill the wyvern, their riders will die. Let’s focus on that.”

“Okay,” I breathed out a shaky sigh and focused on the now.

…

VIOLET

While trying to protect Xaden, I haven’t taken notice of the wyvern hot on Tairn’s tail. It’s gaining speed on him and I see the blue fire it spews at us from below thanks to Xaden’s shout. “Bank!” I shout down the bond and out loud, holding my breath as Tairn rolls to the left.

Tairn straightens out when we narrowly dodge the fire, but the wyvern is still after us. Its mouth dangerously close to chewing out Tairn’s side until a thick moon shaped daggertail pierces its head with lethal precision.

Blood of the wyvern splattered on Tairn’s side and barely reached me. The tail flicks upward and the wyvern’s neck ends up being crushed by large, sharp teeth. Ensuring the kill, the spotted dragon lets go of the dead wyvern, the blood of it tainting his white patches.

I look up to see Lenin and his rider glaring at me with their menacing silence. Like they were scolding me, Are you trying to get my loved ones killed! Lenin then dips downward letting out a roar so deep it sounded like a threat to me. He and [Name] disappear and keep helping the remaining civilians as we fight for the wyvern’s attention. But when we take to the sky, higher and higher, to catch up with how many we have left I spot Liam and Deigh in trouble.

Trouble that [Name] cannot focus on because the civilians she is cloaking right now are so close to safety. “We have to help Liam!” I shout and Tairn agrees with me, picking up his speed and heading to Liam. My heart drops at the serious and scary maneuver Liam and Deigh perform. Liam runs down his dragon’s back and when he reaches his tail, Deigh flicks up so Liam can gain air time.

Then with incredible agility, Liam lands on the wyvern’s rear and with powerful strides, he runs at the venin with the staff. Liam slices at the venin’s neck with the runed dagger and surprises me with the lethality and fire in his eyes. With the venin dead, the wyvern’s wings stop beating and begin to fall in a matter of seconds.

Deigh catches Liam when he jumps off and again, I am caught off guard when a wyvern approaches from the left. But Tairn is quick to react like always and flips over so his claws can catch the creature. His morningstar tail rips the wyvern from throat to tail then levels himself out, the blood of the wyvern trailing on the ground.

I can’t seem to catch my breath, Tairn is reacting and moving too fast for my brain to stop spinning. Another wyvern makes its presence known and dives down from the cover of a cloud with a nosedive headed for us. With not enough time to maneuver away from it, I try to channel despite the dangers of it.

Although, a flash of red blinds my vision and Deigh is here, driving straight into the wyvern’s side to derail it off its path. That’s when the collision shakes Liam off of Deigh’s back and my breath is caught short in my throat.

“Violet!”

“Liam!” I reach out to him and grab onto his scrambling hands looking for purchase on my dragon. Yet Tairn makes a sharp turn to follow Deigh and my shoulders pop from Liam’s weight and the turn Tairn makes at the same time. “Hold on!”

I throw my body over Liam as he holds onto the pommels and hear him take a strangled breath. I’m afraid to turn around, but then he whispers her name in total surprise.

“[Name], w-what-” He stutters and his eyes are trained on the scene behind me.

I look over my shoulder and see the cloak covering Lenin and [Name] slide off them like a blanket does in the wind. Lenin is snarling, blood and saliva leaking from his teeth as he roars out. Meanwhile [Name] is standing on top of his head with her daggers floating on each shoulder, another one grasped tightly in her [dominant] hand. She doesn’t cast us a look because her focus is on Deigh trying his best to protect himself from the gnashing teeth of the wyvern. But Deigh’s devastating roars of pain reach our ears and my heart drops.

[Name] is too late. Deigh’s side is gushing out a ton of blood and I look at Liam to see his blue eyes get misty.

Lenin’s roar catches the attention of the wyvern after Deigh and it breathes fire to deter Lenin off his flight path. But he nods his head upward and [Name] jumps into the air much like Liam did earlier. She floats over the stream of fire and barely lands on the seat of Deigh while Lenin tanks the fire and clamps his mouth onto the wyvern’s neck.

Again, Lenin is tearing through another wyvern with a surprise attack. [Name] presses her hands onto Deigh’s red scales and her lips are moving, but we can’t hear them over Deigh’s cry.

“[Name]! Stop!” Liam cries out like he’s aware of what she’s doing, but I’m at a loss for words. I can’t bring myself to ask him what she’s doing. Instead I watch with anxiety as her hands glow with a bright orange aura.

Then like grass catching fire, a stream of it goes down to Deigh’s wounds. “Fly now!” Her shout reaches us and Deigh takes her up into the clouds without hesitation. Suddenly a horde of venin follow after them with awful shrieks.

“Follow her!” I shout at Tairn and he does with mighty beats of his wings. I look at Liam and I can see the confusion on his face. “Don’t worry, your sister is smart. She just cauterized his wounds. It stopped Deigh’s bleeding.”

“That’s not what worries me,” Liam admitted. And for some reason, I draw my eyes back into the clouds with worry in my chest.

…

LIAM

“She’s going to burn out!” Deigh warns me as the fire reaches his wounds and I know [Name] is doing this to save Deigh, to save me.

“[Name]! Stop!” I cry out because this shouldn’t be happening. She cannot afford to burn out here of all places. Especially not when she’s off the safety of her dragon’s back.

“Fly now!” She commands Deigh and he shots up into the sky into the cover of the clouds. Before I can get a word out, Violet tells Tairn to follow after them and the horde of wyvern chasing them. Questions swirl inside my head like a tornado and none of them can be answered. Not in this hectic moment.

“You need to get ready to jump!” Violet looks at me and says, “Tairn is going to fly over Deigh and [Name] will catch you. Got it?”

I stand up and Violet steadies me with a wince. I want to tell her that we’re still friends besides the secrets between us but she looks up at me and shouts, “Run!” Without hesitation, I run down Tairn’s back and hear Deigh loud and clear unlike his early cries of pain.

“Jump!”

Listening to his shout, I jump off of Tairn’s side and Deigh dives in an angle and cold hands catch my warm ones. “Don’t ever jump like that ever again!” [Name] yells at me and pulls me into her cold embrace. I hold onto her and when Deigh levels out, she slides out of his seat and lets me take back control.

“Me? You jumped too and might I add over fire!” I shout back just as angered as she was.

“I know what I’m doing, Liam!” She crouches behind me and settles her hands on my shoulders. “Tell Deigh to climb a bit higher! I need all the air I can get!”

“Are you crazy? It’s hard enough to breathe already!” I refuse to go higher. I have no idea what she is planning, but Deigh moves his head upward and starts climbing. I look over my shoulder and see her blue eyes focused on a wyvern with a venin on top of it. Two others follow the leading one with unrelenting focus on…[Name].

Their sole focus is on her and she knows it. I know it and Deigh shakes his head in denial, his guilt going down the bond. I can feel the guilt eating away at him and I bite my tongue knowing why. Deigh is going with whatever plan [Name] has and it involves us leaving her behind.

“Liam,” Her voice, tinted with fear, reaches me. She stretches her hand toward her right shoulder where the green dagger floats above it three inches. “Give this to Sloane when she learns how to kick ass.”

I must have looked stupid to her because she laughed at my reaction. She actually laughs. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” I asked with a growl and she took my hand and shoved the dagger into my grasp.

“Because you look fucking stupid.” She bites back then her voice softens so does her frustrated features. She contemplates her words and she presses a kiss on my sweaty forehead. The moment her lips leave my forehead, she speaks with a gentler tone instead of the brave, insulting sister.

“They’re not after you now. They want me and if that’s what they really want, I’m taking them down with me.”

“Down with you?” I clench the dagger and shove it into her chest knowing what she meant, “No way. We can work together! I am not letting you do this alone. So you can give this to Sloane yourself.” She doesn’t take the weapon. Instead she smiles down at me as she rises to stand, rain appearing to pour.

[Name] takes one step backward then another.

“[Name].” I clench my teeth and go to stand, but something pulls me down. It’s Deigh’s power holding me to my seat. I don’t have time to fight him, I need to convince her to stay here and fight with me!

“Please!” I beg and turn my body to watch her turn her back on me, “Don’t do this! I can’t watch my sister do this! Sloane would never forgive me! Let me fight with you.”

She tears her goggles off around her neck and tosses them to the side. She doesn’t plan on flying Lenin’s back either. My heart lurches into my stomach.

“[Name]! There has to be another way!” I shout, blinking away the tears that form in my eyes. She speaks in a normal voice, but the rushing wind and falling rain cloud over my hearing. Then she runs down Deigh’s back like I did minutes ago. Minutes.

“Don’t do this!” I shout with all my might, my throat aching and going dry at the hurt that tore through my chest. But she flies up into the sky with Deigh’s help, his tail flicking her upward. Suddenly she disappears into the night and I don’t know if she made it onto the wyvern with the venin on top of it. I didn’t tell her that killing the venin will also end the wyverns' lives.

“She knows. Your sister knows everything.” Deigh tells me and a coldness washes over the both of us. She cloaks us while she fights on the wyvern, why is she doing this? “Hold on! We’re going after Lenin, the other wyvern has been focusing on him since she jumped!”

Deigh begins a nosedive and tucks his wings in to gain incredible speed. When we breach the clouds, I am greeted with a shocking sight. Three wyvern are hot on Lenin’s tail, Bodhi and his dragon working hard to protect him. Fire spews from Cuir’s mouth and he catches one that aimed for his left wing. His claws raked across the wyvern’s body and he collided on the floor rolling over it.

My eyes widen in surprise and I shout Bohdi’s name. Only to see my friend desperately clinging onto his dragon with all he can. Then Cuir slides into a stop with a shake of his head and Bodhi dismounts his dragon unceremoniously. His right arm is twisted in an ugly way and he collapses onto the floor with a cry of pain.

“Bodhi!” I shout at him. He needs to get off the ground.

A roar of pain abrupts my train of thought and my eyes are brought into the thundering sky. Lenin flies to the left of Deigh and I, trying to shake off the other two wyvern on him. They bite at his tail and another on his hind leg.

A crackle of lightning is heard and I see Violet right above Lenin. But her eyes, they’re not on Tairn’s son. No, she’s focused on something else high above her. While Deigh beats his wings and gains speed to follow after Lenin, I can’t help but look up at where Violet is focused on.

Again, my heart drops. The sight is enough to send me into a panicked frenzy.

“Don’t worry! Tairn and his rider will catch her! We need to focus on providing backup to Lenin!” Deigh tells me, but I want to argue and tell him that my sister was in immediate danger. She’s free falling while she fights a venin!

“If Lenin dies, she dies! Now focus!” Deigh commands and I try to move my eyes away from her. Then another crackle of lightning sounds and in slow motion I witness the strike that hits the venin first and connects with [Name] in a blink of an eye.

“[Name]!”

A new voice shouts and a blur of blue whizzes past Deigh and I. In her lethal fashion, Sgaeyl knocks off the wyvern attacking her son while Xaden uses his shadows to make a lasso around the neck of the other one. Deigh reacts quickly and snaps his teeth on the wyvern Xaden had a hold on.

While the rest of the wyvern die all around us, Lenin lets out the most pained whine I heard from a dragon. He beats his wings defeatedly and his head hangs low as he lets out a defiant and anguished roar that makes Xaden and I cover our ears.

After a few seconds, he closes his mouth and Sgaeyl drifts to the right and whines along with her son. Her wing barely grazes his large one and he glides low, following after the orange dragon that belonged to Imogen. All our dragons touch ground after the battle ends and we all run over to Imogen who slides down Glane’s wing with [Name] unconscious in her arms.

I find it hard to see my sister so broken. She’s bleeding from her side, a trail of blood leaves her nose and her body hangs limp in Imogen’s hold.

Imogen is crying as she addresses Xaden, “She’s still breathing! But the venin stabbed her and the poison is spreading fast!” Xaden is the first one to make it to Imogen, but he stops short. Like cement filled his shoes.

“Xaden! We have to take her home!” Imogen shouts, barely carrying [Name] in her sprint. Meanwhile Glane shakes her head with a saddened gaze and Deigh’s voice fills my head.

“I’m sorry. Your sister is gone.”

His voice makes me stop and the dagger [Name] gave me minutes ago feels heavy on my chest. Imogen looks at all of us and shouts, “What the hell are you hesitating for! She’s still breathing!”

The adrenaline leaves my body and I fall to my knees in the mud. I tear my goggles off my face and clench them tightly as to ground me at this moment. She died. [Name] is dead and I let her go.

“Stop.” I whisper, not daring to look at Imogen who holds my sister so close to her chest.

“Xaden, please!” Imogen begs.

“Imogen, she’s gone.” Xaden’s voice carries a heavy weight in them.

“No, no,” Imogen looks down at [Name]’s face and says, “She was talking to me! I swear! We have to take her to him!”

Then the ground beneath us rumbles with the heavy footfalls of Lenin making his way over to Imogen. He towers over Xaden and I, shrouding us in his large shadow. He leans his neck down and Imogen slowly kneels down in front of him. Her sobs wracked her body as she gently lays [Name] down on the wet grass.

Then Lenin pushes the front of his mouth up against the side of [Name]’s body. He hums out and continues to lift her body until she lays on her right side…unmoving. A minute goes by and Lenin moves his eyes from my sister’s body and presses his mouth up against Imogen, gently coaxing her.

Imogen leans back and wipes her eyes with a sniffle.

IMOGEN

“Tell me what her last words were.”

It’s odd to hear another voice inside my head. And Lenin’s voice is an uncomfortable one especially feeling his sadness flow through Glane and down to me. I felt his sadness when he roared out for her, calling out her nickname.

“Tell me.”

Lenin’s snout softly bumps into my chest and I wipe away my tears, but the rain keeps pouring. “She said…” I start and look into his mismatching eyes, “That you should find a rider that reminds you of her. Next year, in two or three years. Just find one and hopefully they’ll be a better-”

“She’s all I want.” Lenin growls, but it doesn’t scare me. Not even being face to face with him. I know he’s hurting. It’s all I can feel from him right now.

“And she knew that, but she said it anyway. We all have to move on somehow. She doesn’t expect us to do it right now. She doesn’t expect you to do anything, but I do. We know who did this and I want to know why.”

I move my gaze to the side and watch Violet stand with her dragons, alive and well. She did this. Violet used her signet and struck [Name]. “You want to hurt her, I can sense it.” Lenin says and I bite my tongue to keep my outside voice from being used.

“Of course I do, and yet…I know [Name] would not want that from me. Or you. And you’re not mad right now. You just feel an enormous amount of pain and suffering.”

“Because you’re right. Dagger knew what she was doing. This entire time. She sacrificed herself to save her brother and Deigh. And in the end, to save me. Dagger is special and I won’t give up on her. If she wants me to find another rider as her last words to me, I will.”

Lenin reels his head back and says his last words to me, “You were a great friend to her, Pinkie. Now tell Shadow to take her to her resting place, I will light the fire for her.”

I move my eyes over to Xaden and he is hidden by the shadow of Lenin. But the darkness is somehow alive and I know it’s his reaction to [Name]’s death that makes them flicker with negativity. Our wingleader is drowning in his own sorrow and we have to pull him out before it’s too late.

“Xaden,” I address him carefully, afraid to earn his backlash. But he draws his eyes away from [Name]’s back and into my gaze. He doesn’t say anything and I tell him, “Lenin wants you to take [Name] to her resting place. He will light her fire.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬: @luvly-writer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @honethatty12 @poeticbookwormcat @cheappremingerfromdelululand @eep500 @littlepippilongstocking @86laura11 @lxnvmvrzx @what-will-be-your-verse @sheblogs @fangirling-galore @callsigns-haze @side-angel @faeofthemoonandstars @jesschalamet @abysshaven @bisexualbitchsgotass @books-hlmc @r0sluvs @galaxystern08 @bwormie @littleemissperfecttt @lagrandeourse @steph-fowlie @casiiopea2 @nisarelle @matrixmoxi @eepyfaerie @thegirlwiththepurpleshelves @smileysunshinesworld @brieflyclassymortal @noonenuts @nikfigueiredo

#x reader #x female reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x female reader #cloak of shadows #fourth wing x reader #xaden riorson x you

72 notes · View notes

translucidstar · 2 days ago

Note

i saw that your request are open. May I request sylus x reader where reader are insecure of her body. How would sylus worship her body. (It can be fluff or smut or both 😂... Maybe add where sylus letting her ride his face as a symbol of devotion heheh. Thank youuuuuuuuu..☺️

I see your request and now you shall receive 😈

Thanks for the request @merah-20

Love this request actually Sylus is one of my fav's so I'm really happy this got requested first, it just makes me happy on the inside :>

I hope you enjoy one of my firsts on this blog! Happy Reading!

WARNINGS: Please note this post is 18+ ONLY; Minors do NOT read/interact, smut in public, intense insecurity of weight, obviously fluff to smut, negative thoughts about oneself

Word Count: 2726

More than Enough (Sylus x Insecure Reader)

It was a typical gloomy day in the N109 Zone, and as usual, you were scrolling on social media, viewing different influencers on their purchases for the upcoming season of summer; this included their outfits for the beach, swimwear, etc. You were viewing all of this while lying on a California king-sized bed. That reminded you of something: you haven't purchased anything for your little trip with your husband, Sylus. He had planned about a month ago for you two to go to one of his very own private islands as a relaxing vacation. Sylus could be very spontaneous when he saw his wife needing a little vacation, so the fact he planned this trip to take place tomorrow and had announced it yesterday wasn't surprising. He always cared for you and read you like a book, gave you surprises, and spoiled you the most.

As if on cue, Sylus walks in with his typical smirk on his face, admiring the view of his wife lying on their shared bed.

"Lovely seeing you finally awake and lying all pretty for me, kitten."

"Mhm... anyways, Sylus, I think it would be very beneficial... if we went... I don't know, shopping for bathing suits and clothes for our trip that's literally tomorrow. You're here now, so we have to go now... while using your black card, " you say a bit rushed but to the point.

"Honey, you can use my card whenever you like; no need to whisper it, the galaxy's the limit. I'll take you to the best shop known in the N109 Zone; you know I only buy the best for my lovely wife," he says as he gets in front of the bed and drags you down by your leg to the point where both of your faces meet.

You get extremely flustered and cover your face with both your hands out of embarrassment.

"Even when I made you my wife, you still get flustered when we participate in intimate activities. How cute," he says, dragging the 'cute' part. Then he slowly leans closer to give you a long kiss on the lips, with his hands wrapping around your waist. You then open your mouth a bit to give him access to your canal, and he practically starts making out with you, touching every curve of your body with the intent of getting you riled up. He starts with your hips and slowly makes his way down south, squishing every part he can, making you feel good. With the tease that Sylus is, he slowly leans back and gets up and makes his way out of the bedroom before giving you one last look.

"I'll be waiting for you outside, sweetie; don't take too long~," you hear as he walks away to go warm up his motorcycle.

"He is going to be the death of me..." you say, flustered, as you close your eyes and sigh as you spread yourself like a starfish on the bed.

What a tease.

Later that day, you both went to a luxurious store with all types of bathing clothes and outfits that would be perfect for the trip. You both walked around aisle after aisle picking up a couple of one-piece outfits, hats, sunglasses, and swimsuits. When you looked over the swimsuits, you felt a bit conscious of your body and how they would look wrapped around your figure.

Will this bikini look good on me? Will Sylus like this on me? Am I even pretty enough? Will it even complement my body correctly? Do they even have my size?

Sylus then snaps you out of your thoughts when he grabs the bikini that was on the rack.

"Wait, I never said that I was-"

"Kitten, I can see you staring at it. I think this would look lovely on you anyway."

"Um... I guess," you whisper mostly to yourself, as doubt still lingers behind your mind. You always had a bit of an insecurity over your body; this was nothing new, but when you had seen others with 'perfect' bodies with their bikinis on, or just others in public who looked perfect in clothes with hourglass figures, you felt a little self-conscious about your own body. You've even tried multiple ways to "adjust" your weight (even if they were a bit over the top), but Sylus would always reassure you and make sure you knew he loved every curve, stretch mark, scar, cellulite, and plumpness your body had to offer when you had thoughts such as this. Sylus would always reassure you and make you forget these negative thoughts, but you still always doubted. This time was no different...

Sylus was waiting on a bench right outside your large fitting room, patiently waiting with his back straight and eyes staring at your door, since you wanted privacy.

"Sylus, I can't do this. I don't think I like this swimsuit... Let's just go get something else..." You state as you lean on the door, making sure it's closed shut so Sylus couldn't see you.

"Now sweetie, why would you say such a thing? Open the door so I can see the elegance of the bikini on your gorgeous body," he said as he stood up to lean towards the door.

"Nuh-uh"

"Kitten-"

"No!"

"..."

Sylus then proceeds to step back a bit with a devious smirk on his face.

"Sylus, wait..."

"You gave me no choice, kitten. I'm coming in," he says evilly as he uses his evol to open the lock and gently push the door with the proper amount of force to get you out of the way but also not hurt you in the process.

When Sylus took one look at you, he was in awe; he thought you looked gorgeous, but he was silent, and that alone worried you. You looked down, and a tear fell from your left eye. You didn't want him to see you like this; you were insecure enough, and those thoughts weren't helping either...

No, he saw me. He probably thinks my body is horrible. I look awful, I'm disgusting, and my body isn't made for a bikini. I look so bad. I can't go anymore. I should just run. I'm not good enough...

"Sweetie, don't cry-"

"No, Sylus, don't look. My body and this bikini look awful on me. Why would you ever want to be with someone like me? They're other people with better bodies that look good in everything, unlike me. I don't want to look like this. I feel awful in my own skin, Sylus... I'm not good enough for someone as good as you..." you say as you whimper and sob as you slowly slide down the mirror that faces your back in the fitting room. You sat with your knees covering your face and your arms wrapped around yourself to weep as you sat on the cold floor. The fitting room was a mess, and clothes were all over the floor.

Sylus looked stunned; he always reassured you he loved you for everything you had to offer. In fact, sometimes he believed that he didn't deserve you, but when he saw you like this, his heart couldn't handle it...

It might as well broken in two.

He looked down at you with sadness in his eyes, but then a slow, warm smile spread on his face as he went on both knees to hug you and get close to your ear to express just how beautiful your body and everything about you was.

"Kitten, you are one of the most beautiful, extraordinary, glorious women I have ever laid eyes upon. Not only are you so very attractive, but your personality to strive and determination on your goals just makes me swoon over you all over again. These beautiful hips sway with such modesty that I love showing off, especially when you accompany me to auctions. Your curves define you beautifully anytime you lie under me or sit beautifully in the car or even ride behind me on my motorcycle. You are perfect. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, growing old and wrinkling together if we must, but I will always love you for who you are, no matter how you look, body, face, and all. You are mine to keep, mine to love, and mine to spoil. I'm so lucky to have married a ravishing woman such as yourself; you don't give yourself enough credit for that. In my eyes, you are more than good enough for me; you're perfect."

He then opens up your arms and makes you look up at him by using his hand to lift your chin up, with teary eyes on your face. He slowly wipes them away and gets closer to the point your noses are barely touching. You both gaze at each other with pure devotion and love. Something that you had yearned for was now right in front of you: the man who showed you that, who made you love yourself, including your insecurities about your own body.

"No love is purer than mine, sweetie; always remember that," Sylus whispers as he smiles a bit wider than before while looking at your lips and then back at you.

"Do you really mean it, Sylus..."

"Of course I do, kitten; in fact... let me prove it to you, right here, right now~," he whispered in your ear as he laid you down on the floor, which had random clothing scattered around it, as he started kissing your neck and biting down around your collarbone. Sucking and kissing all over you, making you feel loved. Let's just say, thank the heavens these fitting rooms had walls and not gaps under the stalls or doors...

"Sylus! We can't do this here?! What if people hear?! Or an employee knocks! Or!-" you say, a bit panicked by his sudden show of affection.

"Relax, kitten, no one would dare interrupt the leader of Onychinus with his... personal activities," he whispers in your ear as you grow more flustered.

He then leans back into your lips and starts to kiss you. You tried to deny him access to your mouth from his continuous attempts, but he then slowly brings your waist up a bit with his right hand and squeezes your plump ass with his left. You then squeal, giving Sylus access for him to insert his tongue and make out with you as he roams his hands all over your body. He then slowly leans back and smirks devilishly at you.

"Uh oh, you only smile like that when you're about to do something crazy..." you say with a low voice. However, you did not have time to question Sylus further as he turned you both around to the point where you are now on top of him. He scoots your body close to his face.

"I want to devour the delicious wetness you're hiding under those bikini bottoms you're wearing kitten," he says while smirking, trying to get your hips and lower part of your body closer to his face.

"W-wait, Sylus, what if I squish you! Or kill you!"

He laughs at such a statement.

"Sweetie, you're not going to squish me; in fact, I enjoy the feeling of you on top of me. It's warm, and I can squeeze your thighs and ass... like this," Sylus says as he finally gets you close to his face, bikini bottoms still on while he squeezes your hips and upper thighs with his left hand and ass with his right hand.

"Are you sure? But w-what if- HeY!" You squeal as Sylus bites your inner thigh while looking up at you. Before you could protest further, he got your bikini bottoms off with both of his hands, helping you maneuver your legs around in order to get them off in the position you were currently in, but you could tell, he was in a rush to devour you, and you were starting to love it.

"If I have to do this every time to reassure my kitten and remind her of the goddess she is, I would do it in a heartbeat," he says right as he forces you down on his face. He starts off slowly licking around your pussy while red eyes look at your own. You can hear the wet noises and grunts that Sylus makes as you look down; it overwhelms you with the amount of pleasure you're feeling. The feeling of his nose hitting your clit as he's practically kissing your pussy, makes you feel as if you're on cloud 9.

"Oh god, Sylus, it f-feels t-too g-g-good, oooh-" you moan out as you close your eyes. Sylus notices and pinches the plump of your ass.

"Don't close your eyes, sweetie; I want you to see me devouring you as you clench around my face," he says as he holds both of your ass cheeks now to get you as close to his face as possible. "I want you to ride my face, kitten; move for me~"

You then looked back down at him and rocked your hips just a bit. That small rock sent a jolt all over your body. That feeling to you was amazing; you couldn't get enough, and you had to keep going. The thoughts you once had in the back of your mind about squishing Sylus and your insecurities had vanished, nowhere to be seen, and instead were replaced with the drive to get off to him eating you out.

"Ooh, fuck yes~," you continue moaning, over and over again, to the point where you weren't even trying to hide yourself from being caught anymore (it's not like you really were anyway).

Sylus keeps going with the full intent to eat you out fully, licking and lapping your juices that soak the area. His grunts vibrate your pussy and send jolts of electricity throughout your body. Sylus then starts to insert his tongue while also sucking on your area now. That alone sends you to a bliss, and your eyes start to roll back. You moan his name over and over again, and he's loving every second of it.

"Yes, sweetie, keep singing my name; let everyone know what a delicious kitten I have. Oh how I love the taste of you," he praises. He continues to praise you throughout the process, but obviously it's a bit hard to hear when you're sitting comfortably while rocking his face.

"Cum, kitten, give me the dessert I've been craving."

"Mmmahhhh, S-Sy-Sylu-s I'm g-onn-na c-cum, please.`"

"Yes, Cum for me kitten, Cum, Cum, Cum."

Sylus then squeezes your high upper thighs harshly as you get closer to climaxing. He's also making out with your pussy now in desperation of getting you to cum all over his face.

"Sylus! I can't hol- o-on S-SyyyyyLuuuss, ah- AhHHhhhhhh ahhh fuuuuueuck-" You whisper-shout as you finally climax all over his face in sweet pleasure. Sylus, however, was licking and swallowing your sweet nectar that came out of you as you moaned. Each lick made him grunt and caused his eyes to close and move his head around to swallow every drop your body had to offer.

"You taste so delicious, kitten, and you're so warm and soft, I can never get enough of your sweet nectar."

You didn't feel like answering him; you felt too good and happy in that moment...and felt like you were going to pass out with the immense pleasure he just gave you. Before you could try and fall a bit; he quickly pushes you back down his body to where you now sit at his bulge in his pants. You sat down comfortably, completely oblivious to how turned on Sylus is.

"It's ok, kitten, just rest. I'll have us out of here and back home. Sleep now my beautiful kitten," he whispers in your ear. His reassurance and voice alone made you sleep happily in his arms, in the fitting room... at a store... in public...

Let's just say you weren't surprised when you found a whole ton of bikinis in your suitcase when you guys got to your villa for your vacation later that week. After that day, you knew one thing for certain: you were enough, and Sylus would always remind you of that, forever.

The End

Hope you enjoyed that, this is like my first fanfiction writing for an xreader character ever so I know I may be a bit bad but I hope to get better with time :)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope everyone has a wonderful rest of their day! Hugs and kisses! xoxo

Also if you want to read on Wattpad as well since I will be posting there too, heres the link to my profile! Requests are appreciated as well as recommendations on who I should write for next!

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus #sylus qin #sylus x mc #lads mc #lads x reader #loveanddeepspace #lads smut #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #fanfiction

76 notes · View notes